Exchanged Read online

~*~

  Callannon collapsed against Aubriel’s quivering form, careful not to place his entire weight on her. Tangled in her like this, he couldn’t keep from tilting her chin up and kissing her deeply. The pair were splayed out on the grass in the garden, and Aubriel’s hair fanned out under them in the glowing twilight luminescence.

  How did I live without her for so long?

  Earlier that evening, Callannon had been sick with anticipation. Aubriel seemed certain that she would be able to find iron, but he couldn’t believe that such a rare material would be so easy to come by, even with the knowledge that it came from her world. He also couldn’t say with any certainty she’d heard his directions before the spell ended.

  The worry evaporated as Callannon opened his eyes to the familiar dreamscape garden. He nearly jumped in triumph and excitement, but his eyes found Aubriel. She tried to hide her arm from him, but he could clearly see fresh bite and scratch marks, even more noticeable in the tantalizing gown that left her arms and shoulders bare.

  He closed the distance between them in just a few strides. “Aubriel, what happened?”

  “It’s all right,” she said, shifting to move her injured arm farther from him. His hands found her waist, and he looked her over for other injuries but found none. “I got the iron,” she continued. He thought she looked much happier than someone who had been attacked should. “There was an abandoned cabin not far from a pass I infrequently use. I’d seen it before when travelling with my hunting party.”

  “I take it the cabin was occupied?” Callannon gently held Aubriel’s injured arm, inspecting it. The bite was shallower than he anticipated, but it could easily become infected. The scratches were enough to draw blood, but only just.

  “I startled the wild dog inside.” Aubriel glanced down at Acorn, who stood beside her skirts. “Acorn helped keep me safe long enough for me to get the iron and run.”

  “My thanks to you, Acorn.” Callannon gave the fox a nod, and she perked her ears in response. Wasting no time, Callannon drew on his magic and chanted softly, weaving a healing spell over her wounds. “No noble is ever without something like this, no matter how lacking in arcane gifts.”

  Aubriel winced as her skin slowly began to knit itself shut. “What is it?”

  “It’s a healing spell. Particularly useful to have in case of an assassination attempt.”

  Callannon lifted his hand from Aubriel’s arm once the skin was smooth and intact. She sighed and tilted her head slightly as he ran a thumb over her arm, giving him a perfect view of her neck. The pain on her face was replaced with longing. She leaned into his touch, causing his trousers to tighten. “Callannon.”

  It was all he could take. He kissed her, taking her into his arms and reveling in the press of her soft body against his. He held her gently at first, not wanting to harm her, but the nibble she gave his lower lip was all he needed. His hands ran over her shoulders, tracing down her arms and encircling her slim waist.

  “Get rid of this,” she murmured against his lips, swishing the layers of skirts with a sway of her hips. “It’s in the way.”

  Callannon chuckled fondly at her openness, running a finger down the length of her back. The fabric didn’t split at his bidding. He leaned in and whispered against her ear, delighting in her shudder. “You provided the iron, Aubriel. The dreamscape is under your control now.”

  The hint of confusion in her eyes was replaced by an eager gleam as she swiped her hands experimentally, relieving Callannon of all his possessions and clothing save his token. With a smile and another swipe, her garments floated to the floor, and the pair giddily fell to the grass in a tangle of arms and legs.

  Callannon brushed Aubriel’s dusky pink hair as she relaxed beneath him, her garments a pillow. “If I had known the danger retrieving the iron would put you in, I never would have suggested it.”

  “I was the one who asked what material was needed.” Aubriel turned to meet his eyes. “Being a huntress has always been dangerous, but I’m careful. I would gladly risk a bite and some scratches to get iron if it means I get to be here with you.” He opened his mouth to dissuade her, but she put a finger to his lips. “But I won’t put myself in danger again if I can avoid it. I should have enough iron to last me until I can reach a town and trade for some.” A shadow of worry crossed her face. “Assuming this doesn’t burn through all of it.”

  “It shouldn’t,” Callannon reassured her. “It normally burns through a quarter vial of powder. How much did you manage to find?”

  Aubriel paused. “Iron powder? I found three iron nails.”

  It was Callannon’s turn to process information. “I’m afraid I don’t understand. Iron nails? You didn’t find shavings?”

  “No, solid nails. They’re used in construction.” Aubriel spread her thumb and index finger to indicate the the nails’ length.

  “Those...those should last us quite a long time,” Callannon said, smiling so widely it almost hurt. He leaned down and kissed her deeply and gently, falling into the welcome trap of her lips. Once he regained himself, he nuzzled her. “My contact should arrive tomorrow with more iron, and I’ll keep stockpiling it as I can, regardless. You mentioned a town. Where is it? If I’m to find another gate to your realm, I need to know where the town is in relation to the amulet’s former home.”

  “I can draw you a map,” Aubriel said as she traced patterns along his back as if to prove her point. “It won’t be exact, but it should give you a good idea.” She paused in thought. “Earlier, you said I controlled the dreamscape. What did you mean?”

  “Iron is the core component of this spell, so whoever controls the iron manipulates the dreamscape. I maintain a minor amount of sway because I set up the spell,” he waved a hand and a gentle breeze washed over them, “but beyond about that, I’ve no power over the environment here. I wasn’t sure you heard me at the end of our last meeting, but I’m glad you caught where to place the iron so that the spell would activate.”

  “I didn’t hear the instructions.” She snuggled against his chest. “But I thought about how when I wear my token while I sleep, it appears here with me.” Aubriel tugged at his token and pressed herself against him more fully, nearly returning him to his full desire in one motion. “So it made sense to keep the iron with me when I slept. I’m not sure what else I would’ve done with it.”

  He didn’t refrain from kissing her again, pressing her against the soft grass. “You, my exchanged, are refreshingly honest. Let’s hope that your presence amongst the nobility imparts some of that directness into them.”

  “I’ll be meeting them?” A hint of worry edged into her voice. “Of course, you work with them all the time, don’t you? Somehow, I thought I might be staying away from them.”

  “That was my intention, originally.” Callannon sighed deeply. “But then Oberon royally decreed I bring you to the Summer’s Dawn Ball held at my manor. It’s not as though I have a choice about hosting the ball, either. It’s always been held by the king’s advisor, so it falls to me. However, simply hosting the ball doesn’t seem to be enough to satisfy him now.”

  Aubriel looped her arms around Callannon’s neck and met his gaze. The sharp green eyes that once scrutinized him suspiciously looked at him with such trust. He didn’t want to betray that trust. He had to keep her safe. She just smiled. “I’m not sure if I should be flattered or worried. I’ve never been to a ball or any kind of formal event.” She gestured to the gown strewn across the grass. “Even in such a beautiful gown, I’m not sure I’d fool anyone. Your friend will know I’m no noble, and he’s going to learn that I won’t do what he wants just because he’s king. He’s not my king.”

  Callannon burst into laughter and rolled onto his back, pulling Aubriel atop him. “No, he is not, but believe me when I say that he is better a friend than foe. As for your status, he doesn’t believe you to be noble. It’s not required that my exchanged be of noble lineage, and it’s no secret to him that I’ve never been fond of nobl
es for the most part.”

  “Yet your best friend is the king.” She brushed his hair from his face. “The highest noble of all. How did that happen?”

  “That is a story to tell, but for another time. Noble or not, it would be best if you learned our customs to avoid scrutiny at the ball, and we haven’t much time. Above all else, we must keep your mortality a secret.”

  “I can learn anything with practice,” Aubriel responded, propping herself up on Callannon’s chest. “If I can hunt the animals of the forest, I’m sure I can handle a ball. It’s just a different kind of hunt, really. And don’t think you’ll be able to keep your stories from me. We may not have much time, but the more I know about the people I’m to meet, the better.”

  He raised an eyebrow with a smirk. “And the story of my friendship with Oberon will help you stalk my ballroom?”

  Aubriel shrugged.

  The idea of her stalking some of the most fearsome fey of the Summer Court was as amusing as it was frightening. “I’ll tell you,” he said, “but only after an introduction to etiquette.” Her mouth formed into a playful frown that he wasted no time kissing. Or perhaps after this.

  ~*~

  Aubriel let out a sigh when she found the village after a week of searching. Her iron nails were nearly gone. The dreamscape consumed much more of them than either she or Callannon expected, leaving little bits of mineral and metal behind. He thought the nails may not be pure iron like his shavings were, but she wasn’t sure. What she knew was that she needed more iron for their meetings to continue.

  The village was made up entirely of humans, so she didn’t enter. Gnomes and halflings she could handle, even dwarves, but not humans. They reminded her too much of Elston: large, powerful, and influential. Particularly the one she saw working the forge.

  Aubriel waited until night fell and the humans were asleep, then sent Acorn to gather scraps of iron from the small smithy. As intelligent as Acorn was, she occasionally brought back the wrong metal or simply couldn’t find any iron. Each night the two of them would sneak away from the village, hiking at least two hours before setting up camp. It was tedious, but Aubriel was determined not to be found. Thankfully, Callannon received iron every few days, easing the burden.

  “You missed a step, my exchanged.”

  Aubriel blinked up at Callannon’s smiling face. The golden gloaming glinted off his hair. She noticed the otherworldly music no longer drifted through the garden and shook her head to dispel the thoughts of her waking hours. She didn’t want to waste what little time she had with Callannon. “I was lost in thought.”

  He tilted her chin up. “Perhaps it’s time for a recess. It does feel as if we’ve done nothing but practice dining and dancing recently.”

  She leaned into his kiss for a moment before regretfully pulling away. “I’ve enjoyed learning of the fey court and the seelie kingdoms, but we don’t have much time together. It never feels like enough.” Aubriel pressed herself against Callannon, her cheek resting on his chest. “I want to know more about you, but I don’t want to pry.”

  “You can ask me anything, Aubriel. You are my exchanged.” She felt him nuzzle his nose into her hair, and she pressed into him harder. “I hold no secrets from you, but you’re right that we’ve not made time for such things, particularly as of late.” Callannon looked up thoughtfully. “I think it’s long overdue that I show you my manor.”

  They had been meeting in the garden for so long that Aubriel had nearly forgotten there was a manor. It wasn’t that Callannon didn’t speak of his home, but it always seemed dim, faraway, and imaginary, as though such a place couldn’t possibly exist. Even so, it was a piece of him, and she wanted to know everything. “Show me.”

  “We’re in luck that I control the dreamscape tonight.” Callannon slipped her arm through his and led her down a new path that opened before them out of the garden. “Everything that is mine is also yours.”

  She laughed. “The reverse is true as well. Maybe one day we’ll return to Viget, assuming Elston ever admits what he did.”

  Callannon squeezed Aubriel’s arm gently. “Even if he doesn’t, I’m sure we’ll find a way to return gracefully. For now, though, I’d like to show you my home.”

  The pair continued down the path as the shrubs and trees of the garden parted to reveal a manor of grey stone adorned by large windows, towers, and parapets. A wall encompassed the courtyard with a gate as wide as a house. The manor seemed larger than any individual would need, as if it served a greater purpose than any single inhabitant.

  “Welcome to Sagma House,” he said with a gesture.

  “This...is your home? It’s bigger than my village!”

  Callannon laughed. “Yes, it’s taken quite a long while for me to get used to myself. Its size is still overwhelming at times.” Aubriel looked to Callannon inquisitively as he continued. “The manor doesn’t belong to me, technically, but is the residence of the advisor to the king, whomever that happens to be. It’s been a comfortable home to me in my years serving Oberon.”

  “You haven't always lived here?”

  Callannon shook his head as they passed through the gate, gardens of vibrant and riotously colorful plants flanking them. “No, this isn’t my original home, but it’s been good to me. Not much here is truly mine, but the lands and its caretakers treat me well.” He paused, and Aubriel couldn’t help but think he looked sad. “I oversee Sagma House and its lands along with my other duties, but if I were to lose my station, I would be stripped of nearly everything here.”

  “They would just take it away? They can do that?” She squeezed his arm.

  “They being Oberon, yes he could, but I know he wouldn’t. I’ve been his advisor for a long time, and while I don’t expect that to change, it always could. Regardless, it’s good to keep one’s situation in mind in case the unexpected does occur.”

  Aubriel nodded slowly as she looked at Callannon. He was so detached. Obviously he cared for the manor—he’d been here for years—but he wasn’t letting himself get too close. The smile on his lips was small and sad, making her heart sink. She couldn’t imagine living anywhere so long without becoming invested.

  Movement caught Aubriel’s attention at the arched entry doors. A diminutive creature, no more than three feet tall and with curly, honey-colored hair pulled into a bun, stood just outside the doorway, looking their direction. She wore a simple, fitted dress of dark gold, finer than anything Aubriel had ever owned. Aubriel turned to Callannon, whose face had softened at the sight of the woman before them.

  “Who is that?” Aubriel asked.

  “That would be my housekeeper, Mrs. Delia. She’s a brownie.”

  Aubriel had never met a housekeeper before, much less a brownie. For such a small woman to be in charge of overseeing such a large manor, she must be sharp as a knife. Whatever her demeanor, her smile was kind.

  “She’s one of the most trustworthy people I know,” Callannon added.

  They ascended the entry stairs, and the vision of Mrs. Delia opened the door for them. Despite her small stature, she stood as if she were Callannon’s height. Though the housekeeper wasn’t really there, Callannon still smiled and thanked her, but the genuine smile was replaced by something more hollow. Was he forcing himself to be detached from the staff, too?

  The housekeeper didn’t respond to them, nor did she seem to notice as they passed by her. The behavior struck Aubriel as odd for a moment before she remembered that this was a construct of Callannon’s magic. If this is all created by him, then this must be how he sees his manor. She gazed around her, taking in the entry hall with its sweeping staircase and large stained glass mosaic, the light shining through in various colors throughout the room. I wonder how different it might be once I actually visit myself? Though the room was filled with light, it retained a slight chill, and Aubriel held herself closer against Callannon.

  He concentrated, and other fey creatures appeared in the entry hall, moving from door to door carrying
out what seemed to be their normal tasks. Sprites, satyrs, pixies, and more creatures she couldn’t begin to guess the names of went about their business. Some used magic, particularly a small pixie moving a large bundle of sheets, as if that were perfectly normal here—which, Aubriel realized, it was.

  “Is everyone here to serve you?”

  “Me?” Callannon raised an eyebrow, then shook his head. “No, they’re here to serve the manor. I may live here, and Sagma House is mine by title, but I’m little more than its manager. Many more people than myself are needed to maintain the estate.” He gestured to Mrs. Delia. “When I’m away, Mrs. Delia manages the manor in my stead, following my wishes.”

  “Why are they here?”

  Callannon led her through the entry hall. “Many reasons, I suppose. Some are here for the pay, some for the prestige or other motivations.”

  She reconsidered her question. “Why would they choose to be here and run someone else’s life instead of going off on their own?”

  Callannon laughed, looking to the illusions as he took them up the staircase. “That’s a question I often wonder about, both in regards to myself and to them. I oversee all matters of court for Titania and, mainly, Oberon because I doubt there’s anyone who could do it more effectively. As for my staff, I suppose you’ll have to ask them yourself when you come to visit.” After a brief pause, he continued, “It’s difficult to remove yourself from court life, particularly when you start to make a difference.”

  As they made their way through the second floor, Aubriel noticed a pattern. The library had only one chair by the fire. The dining room table had only a single setting. The study had a chair for a guest, but it was fresh and new compared to the matching but well-worn chair behind the desk. The rooms were fine, more grand than anything she’d ever seen, but they were so empty, so lonely. It pained her to think of how often Callannon was in these rooms by himself.

  Callannon opened the final set of doors on the floor, a pair made of sturdy, rich red wood, which led to his bedchamber. The furniture was made of the same beautiful wood and was detailed with intricate carvings. A fire burned brightly in the hearth, and as he drew Aubriel toward it, he had to summon another chair for her.