Gossamyr by Michele Hauf Read Free Book Online Page B

emotional!
    Oblivious to Gossamyr's curiosity, Ulrich eyed the sleeveless
pourpoint, slid over the applewood sigil propped on her hip, then
stretched his gaze back up her neck. Stuffed with arachnagoss and
sown in a fine quilting, the garment protected from sharp or slashing
weapons.
    He finally said, "Are those leaves sewn together?"
    Clutching the rugged fabric fitted snugly to her body, Gossamyr
lifted her chin. "Mayhap," she offered stubbornly, thinking
a lie would be just that—so obvious. Lies served nothing but to
prolong the inevitable bane. But the truth of her was a necessary
misappropriation, lest she find herself in a cage rotting in a market
square.
    "Leaves! Marvelous!" A brilliant smile revealed white
teeth and he clapped his hands together—but the smile
straightened sharply, as did his mood. "Well, I am not going
with you."
    "I did not ask your accompaniment, mort—er, Ulrich."
    "So be off then." He shooed her with a flip of his
fingers. "Back to Faery where you belong."
    "Do you not hear well?"
    "Perfectly."
    "Mayhap you are daft? I said I am n-not a faery. It is
ridiculous of you to assume as much." Gossamyr crossed her arms
over her chest and assumed a defiant stance.
    "What then places you here in my path, charming my mule to
return at your bidding? If that is not faery glamour, I don't know
what is. Have not your kind toyed with me enough?"
    "What torments have you suffered at the hands of Faery?"
    "You don't know?" A skip to his right, his feet nimble
and sure, twirled him around once and ended with a mock bow. The man
changed moods so quickly he was either barmy or a lackwit.
    He blew forcefully from his mouth, which fluttered his lips into a
slobbery sound. "Is not a dance of the decades damage enough?
Oh!" He thrust up his arms, then as quickly, snapped into a wary
crouch and scanned the dense forest. "Am I in Faery now? If you
mean me no harm then get me gone from here. I command it of you,
wicked faery!"
    Gossamyr rolled her eyes at his dramatics—then narrowed her
gaze on him. The remarkable thing about the man was not the bruises
and blood but that contour of hair above and below his mouth. Fée
men did not sport facial hair. It wasn't necessary, for, unlike
dwarves, they did not require body hair to protect from the elements.
And those eyes. Blue, a color Gossamyr had never before looked into.
Her mother's brown eyes were the only anomaly from the fée
violet. And her own. So much color twinned on the man's face, and
yet, that color drowned in a sea of white.
    "We stand in the mortal realm, Jean Cesar, er—"
    "Ulrich Villon. The third—hell, what am I doing? I have
just given my name complete to a faery!"
    If he only knew how little glamour she could wield with that
information.
    A poke of her staff into the ground spoke her impatience. "Not
a single faery taunts you this day." Or so he must believe. But
he seemed to know about her kind. And the forest, it seemed not to
want him to leave her side.
    Hmm... An enchanted bane or boon? She must...test. If he could
leave her, then it was mere coincidence. If he again returned to her
side, then they were meant—for reasons beyond her grasp—to
travel together. It is all she could figure with so little experience
of this realm.
    "Get back on your mule and ride off. I will follow you over
that ridge in the path to ensure your success."
    "She is not a mule," the man offered as he mounted. His
shoes, strapped and circled in thin leather ties, grazed the grass
tops.
    "Fancy is a rare breed, yet while lacking in height makes up
for it in endurance."
    Fancy? A miserable waste of horseflesh. But Gossamyr did not speak
her annoyance. Surely the only reason for the man's return to her
twice over was that someone or thing in Faery saw to make mischief
with her. But to speak to Faery—the trees, as the man would
view it—would not put her to advantage. And where was the fetch
when she needed to communicate?
    Gesturing the mortal and his mule follow,