Enchanted Ever After. Robin D. Owens

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      “You gonna stand there blocking the door or let us in, man?” asked Rafe Davail, the human with strong magic. Underwater, that would have ruffled the fine fins on Lathyr’s arms and along his spine. In human form, the hair on the back of his nape rose a little in challenge.

      It had been too long since he’d dueled in human shape to match with Davail now. And Lathyr wanted to be accepted here.

      “Welcome to Mystic Circle!” Rafe’s wife, Amber, said cheerfully, holding up a covered dish of salmon and rice that wafted to Lathyr’s nostrils. His mouth watered, and he liked how she elbowed her husband in the side.

      So he smiled and stepped back, bowing.

      The mansion—the Water King was right, the house wasn’t large, only four bedroom suites and eight bedrooms—was furnished like any royal palace, with the best Lightfolk and human items money could buy. But what was more important was that the balanced energy was exquisite, sliding along Lathyr’s skin and slipping through his veins carried by his water nature.

      He welcomed the Emberdrakes and the Davails and they toured the Castle together since none of them had been in it before.

      That didn’t stop Rafe Davail from being cocky...and Lathyr noted the man kept himself between Lathyr and his wife, and not altogether automatically like a fighter would. As if the human sensed some threat from Lathyr. Lips curling, Lathyr didn’t reassure Rafe that only Kiri Palger interested him.

      Amber Davail’s magic was too developed for her to become pure Lightfolk, and too elven.

      Rafe fingered some of the Lightfolk silk tapestries and slid his hand across the fine leather of the couch in the living room. The person who was least impressed seemed to be Amber Davail—a woman Lathyr gauged was more interested in people than objects.

      Aric Paramon Emberdrake, Jenni’s husband, had lived with the royals often enough in their palaces to recognize and accept the quality, and Jenni, as a previously sneered at half-breed, seemed the most struck.

      The glass conservatory held a good-sized swimming pool set in a floor of colorful hand-painted Italian tiles. The water was turquoise and Lathyr’s nose twitched at the Merfolk scents in the water. Large potted trees and flowering plants rimmed the windows.

      “Fabulous,” Amber enthused.

      “Nice,” Jenni, the quarter-air, quarter-fire Lightfolk said politely, staying at the doorway.

      “Don’t think I’ve seen a merman in mer shape,” Rafe hinted.

      “We have three solid shapes,” Lathyr said, then turned to find the source of water he sensed in the basement.

      Underground was made especially to be comfortable for Earthfolk—with warm stone floors, thick rugs and wood-paneled walls, large pillows on the floor. But down a hall, Lathyr looked through a large porthole to a room holding a seawater reservoir, a full submersion chamber for mers. He grinned and rubbed his hands. “Wonderful.”

      “I suppose,” Jenni said doubtfully.

      Instead of taking one of the bedrooms resonating with royal energy, Lathyr had chosen a small room on the first floor near the conservatory, meant for a servant. The others looked at him askance, and when Rafe opened his mouth again to comment Amber elbowed him, and no one said anything.

      Lathyr was very aware of always living on sufferance.

      The couples stayed only long enough for the tour and a drink afterward—Rafe, Jenni and Aric drank dwarven beer, and Amber some mead.

      Amber hugged him before they left. Aric and Rafe—and Jenni to a lesser degree—remained slightly formal, not quite trusting him.

      Lathyr sighed as he stood at the front door and watched the couples walk arms-around-waists back to their homes. He liked them all, even Rafe, and hoped he could earn their trust during this project. They’d make good friends.

      Leaning against the wide doorjamb, he strained to see Kiri’s house at the end of the street, nearly opposite the Castle. Not much was visible through the trees of the center park since like the other bungalow, it was only one story. But, there was a light from what he believed to be a back bedroom.

      He’d hoped she was coming to greet and welcome him to Mystic Circle, too. She hadn’t, and he’d been more disappointed than the small slight warranted.

      One thing he had determined that day, he was definitely attracted to her. It had been a long time, since his adolescence, that he’d wanted to have sex with a human woman. Perhaps it was because he sensed the inherent potential in her to become Lightfolk...but he hadn’t been drawn to the other women and men he’d seen transformed.

      Should he phone her? He had her application, with telephone numbers, on his personal computer tablet, but he wanted her to be aware of him, wanted her to come to him. However, he’d inadvertently used glamour on her earlier that day; the Emberdrakes wouldn’t forget that.

      So he dragged in a breath that brought him the scent of leaves ready to turn in the autumn, losing their water flexibility and becoming dry and brittle, as well as the fragrance of the pond and the koi within, stupid and not good to eat. Considered beautiful by humans—and Kiri seemed to believe that—but compared to ocean creatures, the koi were ugly and clumsy. Most of all, the scent of balanced magic curled into his nostrils, layering on the folded frills.

      He felt that balanced magic in the soles of his feet, and Jenni, as she’d trailed through the rooms, had balanced the magic in them. She’d ventured into each of the royal rooms and made the fire suite all of that element, then changed the energy of each of the others to match.

      Wondrous.

      But he was still landlocked, still had to live in his human form, even in this very special place. And the Castle wasn’t his. He stayed here at the whim of the Eight, or the Water King.

      He closed the wooden door with a thunk, walked through the entryway, then up to the top of the four-story small tower. From here he could see all of the Circle, each house with bright squares of living.

      He was alone. Occasionally, he was allowed to stay in a secondary home by himself—the last perched like a carbuncle on the shelf of a deep marine trench. It had been smaller than this, and cold. But usually he was a “houseguest” of some other person or family. His own family was gone—his father, who’d been the last of his line, was dead; his mother had listened to her relatives and abandoned him soon after he was born. He shook off the memory.

      Luxurious to have a home of such quality to himself. It felt good, but he wouldn’t forget that he had no permanent place, no family. That was his goal, something he could win with the success of this project.

      The quiet in the mansion hummed with magic to his ears, and pleased him. No intolerant naiader begrudged him here, a relief. Even as he enjoyed the peace of being by himself in a special place, he knew he’d eventually become lonely.

      He wished Kiri was here to share the serenity...and make memories.

      * * *

      By the time Thursday morning rolled around, Kiri and her friend Shannon had spent a couple of cherished hours on the phone speculating about details of the new game, Transformation. They’d agreed that it would probably be another fantasy-world with the magic-based systems СКАЧАТЬ