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The linden-tree that covers thee might so have shadowed twain,
For death itself I did not fear--'tis love that makes the pain.
Love feareth death. I was no child--I was betrothed that day;
I wore a troth-kiss on my lips I could not give away.
--Elizabeth Barett Browning, "LAY OF THE BROWN ROSARY (pt. II)"
The wailing of the Beansidhe rang out over the assembled Seelie court, high and eerie and so heartrending that even the most hard-hearted listener could not hear it without feeling a tear come to his eye. Listening to it Ravus thought that were he to step out from his place of concealment into the gray light of day, even once he was turned to stone, he would continue to weep.
He watched as the funeral procession made its way into the clearing where the pyre had been built. The wailing Beansidhe, followed by a group of Pillywiggins on their dragonfly mounts, tearing the petals that grew like hair on their scalps and scattering them in the path of the honor guard bearing Tamson on their shoulders.
Silarial followed behind, as achingly exquisite in her grief as she was in every other emotion. Her hair was loose, flowing down her back like a river of molten copper, and the single crystalline tear on her cheek only served to emphasize the perfection of her complexion.
In his coffin Tamson's arms were crossed in such a way that they covered the deep wound in his chest. His eyes were gently closed as Ravus had seen them so many times in peaceful sleep. His skin, however, lacked the rosy glow that it had known in life, and through his stinging tears, Ravus found it hard to look away from Tamson's mouth. The memory of those lips, warm and full and as soft as a dove's wing was imprinted onto Ravus' own. He knew that Tamson's kisses were born out of pity and not desire, but he had accepted them anyway. He saw now that he should not have, just as he should never have agreed to the fight.
On the funeral pyre, Tamson's lips were cold and bloodless, hardly discernible from the flesh surrounding them.
Ravus asked himself, as he watched the flames engulf the only friend he had ever known, whether Tamson's destruction had been sealed by Ravus' blow or by his kiss.
*
To fear love is to fear life, and those who fear life are already three parts dead.--Bertrand Russell
Val's dorm room looked like a small library had blown up in it. There were books lying open on every available surface. Note cards, notebooks, pens and paperclips were scattered across the floor. Ruth was sprawled out on the bed, dividing her attention between her Intro to Film textbook and her laptop, while Val lay on her back on the floor, her feet propped against the wall.
Val was supposed to be studying for her Chemistry midterm, but her mind kept wandering. Studying how elements combine just made her think of Ravus and his potions, and thinking about Ravus made her too worried and miserable to hold any formulas in her head. Finally she slammed the book shut. It made a loud clap and a thud as she tossed it aside.
"Do you think Ravus wants to break up with me?" she asked Ruth.
Ruth just snorted and flipped a page in her book.
"Is that a no?"
"Of course it's a no. He worships the ground you walk on." Ruth looked up from her reading to grin mischievously at Val. "And besides he's a troll. I don't think he's got all that many options. Nutcases as screwed up as you are don't wander into his lair every Tuesday and Thursday."
Val picked up one of her dirty socks from the floor and threw it at Ruth's head.
"Gross!" Ruth said and stuck her tongue out at Val.
"Come on, I'm being serious. He never wants to," Val gestured with her hands, "fool around."
"You're saying you're having trouble getting him to use his sword on you?" Ruth clasped both hands to her chest like a heroine on the cover of a Harlequin novel.
"Yeah, he doesn't like to use his 'sword,'" Val made quotation marks with her fingers, "on me."
Really, though, the only time Ravus did come near her without seeming to hold back was when they were sparring. He would rain blow after blow down upon her, forcing her to dodge and parry using all of her strength and skills to avoid his attacks. If he detected any flaw in her stance, he'd stand so close behind her that she could feel the heat from his body and push apart her thighs, pull her shoulders back, fingertips brushing the tops of her breasts. He didn't seem to notice, but it would set her heart to pounding in her chest so that she felt light-headed with desire. But when she tried to turn to him in those moments, he would move away from her and suggest an end to their lesson.
"Maybe troll-sex is so weird and kinky that he's afraid he'll scare you off with it." Ruth giggled.
"God, you are such a pervert," Val groaned.
*
Luis wasn't any help either.
"Well, they have a lot of orgies, and they're not very particular about the whole interspecies--um, yeah." He bit his lip and looked away from her. "But basically, all the parts go together in the same way, as far as I know. Not like I've ever done it with one of them."
"No, all your time is spent doing it with Neil," she teased.
"Shut up!" He said, but he had a pleased, gentle expression that she had never seen on him before. She didn't want to feel jealous. If anyone deserved to find some happiness it was Luis, but he had what Val wanted most right now: someone to be a normal, horny teenager with.
"Come on, everyone knows Ravus is totally hot for you." Did everyone know that? Val wasn't so sure. "Why don't you just ask him what's going on?"
Val shrugged. She didn't want to tell him how terrified she was of saying, "What's wrong with me?" to someone who couldn't lie.
*
The air in Ravus' workroom was humid and close from their exertion. A sheaf of papers lay scattered on the floor, knocked from his desk by their heedless motions. Val jumped backwards over a low bench to retreat from Ravus' advancing blows, blocking one thrust directly at her face, then a second, but the third was only a feint. She realized her mistake too late as he made a sweeping uppercut, slamming into the underside of her wrist with such force that she yelled in pain. Her hand went numb, and she heard her practice sword clatter to the floor.
Val blinked away the involuntary tears, and tried to breathe deeply through the pain. The battle-lust faded from Ravus' face, and he flung the broken hockey stick he'd been using away from him, as if it had suddenly grown hot in his hands.
"I've hurt you." He pulled her arm away from her chest, turning it up to examine the quickly purpling mark on her inner forearm.
"It doesn't matter. Let's keep going." Val tried to tug free of his grasp, but she couldn't. His fingers easily encircled her wrist, overlapping to form an unbreakable hold. The struggle sent a fresh jolt of pain up her arm, making her wince.
Ravus led her over to his work table, keeping hold of her with one hand while the other sorted through various packets and bottles, examining the labels and then casting them aside until he came up with the one he wanted.
The ointment felt slick and cool when he poured it onto her bruised flesh. It was a murky green, similar in color to his skin, and had a vinegary smell to it. He rubbed it in gently, making a circling motion with the pads of his thumbs.
"I'm sorry you've put so much time into teaching me, and I still suck so much," Val said with a sigh. Whatever was in the ointment was making the pain fade quickly, and she was able to open and close her tingling fingers.
"You think that you got hurt because of a lack of skill?" Ravus asked.
Val shrugged. She tilted her chin to look into his face, but his eyes were focused on her arm, intent on his work. "If that were a real blade, you'd have cut off my hand. I don't think that's generally a sign of being a totally awesome sword fighter."
Ravus snorted and finally let go of her arm. "When we first began to spar, I could beat you with half my mind on what draughts I had brewing, and using only the most basic of techniques," he said as he re-stoppered the bottle.
Val looked down, embarrassed over how silly she must have looked crowing over the hits she'd landed back then when he was only half trying.
"The sequence of attack I used on you today was one of the most difficult that I've mastered. I deeply regret hurting you, but I could not have executed it successfully if I had pulled my blows. You would have been able to parry."
Val couldn't keep the grin from spreading across her face. She went up on her toes to press a happy kiss to Ravus' mouth. He tolerated it at first, returning the pressure of her lips, but when she licked across his mouth, attempting to deepen the kiss, he pulled back and looked away from her.
All Val's happiness at his compliment crumbled away, and she felt a frustrating tightening of her throat. "I'm sorry." Her voice sounded thick and tearful, but she kept talking, needing to get the words out. "I know you don't want me to, but I can't help wanting to kiss you, and you said you liked it before. What's changed? What's wrong with me?"
"Val." He squeezed her shoulder, and his eyes looked sad. "I do like it, and there is nothing wrong with you. I am the one who is tainted."
She shook her head miserably. "I don't believe that."
"I would suggest you ask another who has received my love for confirmation, but they all have died," he snapped.
Val sighed. "You still don't get it, do you? I'm alive because of you. You saved my life."
Ravus' eyes went wide, and he shook his head. "That is not how I recall it. It is I who would be dead twice over if not for you."
Val shrugged this off although she liked hearing him say it. "Without you, I would have ended up like Dave--dead in a ditch somewhere." He frowned, but he didn't keep arguing with her, and she dared to take his hand. "Tamson was murdered, but you're not his killer. It wasn't your fault."
"I was his killer's weapon. He still died by my hand. Fault has little distinction when he is but a pile of ashes, and I remain living and able to dally with pretty human girls."
A faint spark of happiness lifted one corner of Val's mouth. "At least," she said, stepping in close and looking up at him through her lashes, "you think I'm pretty."
Even with his prominent fangs Ravus' smile was unmistakably tender as he reached out one clawed finger to trace the curve of Val's cheek. "I think you lovely," he said in a voice as rough as bark.
"Then kiss me," she begged, but there was no need. His lips were already on hers, swallowing up her words.
His fangs pressed into her lip, and his tongue filled her mouth with soft heat. Val reached up and twined her arms around his neck, pressing the full length of her body against him. His hands went to her ass and pulled her close, so close that she could feel how much he wanted her. She ground against the hard heat of him. He made a noise like she'd never heard before, part cry, part growl, and kissed her with such passion that she was bent backwards by the force of it.
She writhed against him again, but he was pulling away from her, breaking out of her hold to take a step back.
Val clenched her fists and cried out in frustration. "Why? Why stop now?" She hated the whine in her voice, and she hated even more feeling like she was throwing herself at him, forcing him to do something against his will.
Ravus didn't answer her. He reached out and ran his fingertips along her upper lip. When he pulled them away they were trembling and spotted with blood.
"You see," he said, closing his eyes and taking a few labored breaths, "even my kisses wound."
"Do I seem like someone who runs away from a little pain?" Val licked her lip and tasted the saltiness of blood, but there was only the faintest sting. "It's barely a scratch." She ran one hand lightly down his arm. "You won't tear me. I'm not made of tissue paper."
"No," his eyes gleamed, "you are finely wrought steel."
He opened his mouth for her this time when she kissed him and let her take him by the hand and lead him across the room.
His bed was as wide and as comfortable as she remembered it. She lay back, and drew him down on top of her, letting his weight push her down into the soft mattress and lost herself in the delight of his touch and his kisses.
*
Fresh morning gusts have blown away all fear
From my glad bosom,--now from gloominess
I mount for ever--not an atom less
Than the proud laurel shall content my bier.
--John Keats, "TO A YOUNG LADY WHO SENT ME A LAUREL CROWN"
A tapping noise woke Val from her nap. She blinked away dreams of rolling in a field of warm clover with Ravus. A dove, pure white as summer clouds, was perched on her windowsill with a scroll in its beak.
Faerie text messaging Ruth had called it and asked why Ravus didn't just get a cell phone.
"This is so much more romantic," Val had answered, which made Ruth roll her eyes and make gagging noises.
"My dearest Valerie," the note read in Ravus' looping script:
I am pleased that the Chemistry exam proved simple, but deny any credit you assign to me. I only helped you refine what you already knew.
I will accompany you and Luis to his lover's Samhain revel as you request, but it would please me if we could meet beforehand. My sheets still carry your scent from your last visit, and I find that I cannot hold my mind to any task without thoughts of you invading and drawing me away into fantasy. I think of the silk of your skin and of the sweet heat of your body when it is entwined with mine, but most of all I think of how freely you bestow these great gifts upon me.
In the face of your courage, I feel ashamed of my cowardice and that I allowed it to hurt you. I promise that from this day forward, so long as you still want me, I shall never turn away from you in fear again.
Please come to me. I long to feel your kiss.
All of my love,
Ravus