Goddess Freya

Honeysuckle and Wild Roses by

Zinnia Hope

Freya’s Bower.com ©2006

Culver City, CA

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Honeysuckle and Wild Roses

Copyright © 2006

by Zinnia Hope

Cover illustration and design by Paul Ellis © 2006

To contact Paul, please email him at: [email protected]

Editor: Marci Baun

ISBN: 1-934069-14-0

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form without written permission from the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages for review purposes. This book is a work of fiction and any person, living or dead, any place, events or occurrences, is purely coincidental. The characters and story lines are created from the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

Warning: This book contains graphic sexual material and is not meant to be read by any person under the age of 18.

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PART ONE Innocence is such a fragile thing. Love even more so, but Mankind’s hate endures...

Honeysuckle and Wild Roses

Chapter One His emerald green eyes mesmerized her, and the hunger within them both excited and frightened Honey. She knew she shouldn’t feel this way about a stranger, a man who couldn’t possibly exist. He lowered his sinewy body onto hers. His scent, a curious blend of spices and sunbaked leaves, intoxicated Honey like the heady moonbeam wine her sister, Bella, made. His hands kneaded her breasts as his lips traveled from her neck to the valley between them. She gasped as he seized the sensitive peak of one, parting her legs with a knee… Jerking awake, Honey glanced around. Between her legs, her undergarment felt hot and wet, and her pulse pounded in her ears. She could still feel her lover’s caresses, still smell the spicy aroma of his body. Blinking sleepily, she recalled lying down in the grass next to her mother’s goldfish pond, thinking of her upcoming birthday, the late afternoon sun warming her bones. A shadow fell over her. Honey turned to find a pair of scuffed leather boots covered in green embers. More fell on the grass and the toes of the boots, winking out like dying fireflies. She swatted the boots, patting out the… Honey paused, frowning. Where had the fiery green sparks gone? She rubbed her eyes and looked up, sighing nervously upon seeing her brother. “Oh, Shandy! You frightened me! I was…uh…dreaming.” Her face grew warm as the details of her vivid dream rushed in on her. “I had no idea you had returned.” He favored her with a roguish grin that made the townswomen helpless against his charms, and his sisters vie for his attention. “You were dreaming that you were mashing my toes?” Honey giggled, feeling ridiculous. “I thought I saw green…” She shrugged. “Forgive me. It was silly and childish.” “Mother sent me to look for you,” Shandy said, an amused note in his voice. “Our evening meal is ready.” Honey couldn’t quite meet his eyes. She felt heat rising into her cheeks again. “Is something wrong?” She shook her head. Shandy reached down and stroked the top of her head. “I heard you murmuring in your sleep, Li’l One. Was your dream a bad one?” Next to her, several large goldfish disturbed the water’s surface. Honey twiddled her fingers in the water, contemplating her dream—or dreams. For the past year, a lover came to her while she slept. The same mysterious man kissed and touched her until she awoke gasping and quivering. Sadly, she could never recall much about him except his riveting emerald eyes, his wondrous touch, and the exquisite sensation of his body upon hers. When she’d awaken, the scent of spices and sunbaked leaves clung to her clothes and hair. Even the taste of him would cavort upon her tongue. Looking up at her brother, Honey replied, “It wasn’t a bad dream, but it was certainly— unnerving.” What had Shandy actually heard? Shame washed over her so intensely that her heart thudded loudly in her ears. Her brother offered his hand. “Come, Li’l One. Mother will be wroth with us if we let our food grow cold.” She allowed him to help her to her feet, and reluctantly, she met his gaze. A knowing smile danced within Shandy’s eyes.

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Honeysuckle and Wild Roses “When did you get back?” she asked in hopes that the change in discussion would distract her brother from the intense fire gracing her cheeks. “The family assumed you’d be gone for a few more days.” “I returned about an hour ago,” Shandy replied and tucked her arm into his. “Did you have any trouble in the Great Wood?” He chuckled. “The Fae folk do not bother me, Li’l One. I’m Shandy the Brave! Shandy the Conqueror!” Swatting his arm, Honey laughed softly. “I missed you, brother. It is boring here when you are gone.” “I brought you material for a new dress,” he said, offering her a wide smile, his eyes dancing with mischief. “What color?” “A bright green like the fields outside the village.” “Oh, how wonderful!” she said. “I hope it wasn’t too expensive.” “For you, Li’l One, it was worth it.” She smiled up at her brother as he led her through the garden. “But won’t giving me such a lovely gift make our sisters jealous?” “I brought them each something so that no one would feel neglected or favored above another.” He patted her hand snuggled in the crook of his arm. “You are so selfless, Li’l One. Perhaps that’s why I do love you so.” The hoofbeats of approaching horses drifted into the gardens. Following the sound, Honey spotted a dark red cap upon one of the riders. She squinted, trying to see better, but as the riders entered the farm’s gate, there was no doubt as to the identity of the visitors. Halting, Honey groaned and stomped her foot. “Oh, how I hate it when Mother invites that bore!” “Perhaps tonight we’ll get lucky and Kaedric will choke on a morsel of food.” Surprise slithered over Honey. She looked up into her brother’s eyes and saw anger and…hate? “Do you truly wish such an ill fate upon another?” she asked. Growling in irritation, Shandy took a step forward with her. “I really do detest that man,” he said. “His father, Jorgus, isn’t quite as bad, but it’s obvious he desires you to wed Kaedric.” “If Mother has her way, I’ll be Kaedric’s wife by the end of the year.” “Possibly sooner if negotiations go well with Jorgus.” The anger in his voice carried on the evening breeze. “Don’t say that!” Honey tried to keep the distraught tone out of her voice but failed miserably. As they turned up the footpath leading to the house, Honey saw their sister, Callan, run out of the barn to greet their dinner guests. “You will not marry that pompous ass,” Shandy said. A shiver raced through Honey at the menacing tone in her brother’s voice. “It is my right as the man of the house to choose whom you shall marry.” “Our father may be dead, but you will still have to fight Mother, and you know how she is when her mind is made up. Kaedric and his father are the wealthiest in the village. Mother sees Kaedric as the perfect man for me—and an easy way to pay our debts.” Fighting a wave of despair, Honey added. “Their wealth aside, everyone believes both men are pleasing to the eyes and very charming.”

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Honeysuckle and Wild Roses “So is a snake sunning itself upon a pretty rock.” *** In the meal room, Maybelle spooned brightly hued berries into small wooden bowls while Honey drizzled wine and cream into each one. Across from them, Amberon stooped, wrapping a coarse cloth around the handle of a steaming tea kettle suspended from a hook above the hearth fire. Their mother turned with the teapot, flashed a triumphant smile at Honey, and walked into a small room used only to entertain guests. Passing through the doorway, Amberon’s skirts whispered against the frame like ghostly laughter. Honey sighed and made a face at her mother’s departing back. “Kaedric is pleasing to the eyes,” Maybelle said. “You should be happy that mother is negotiating with Jorgun to wed you to his son.” “Kaedric thinks too much of himself,” said Honey. “He is too pretty.” “A man cannot be pretty.” Maybelle shot Honey an amused glance. “He is quite handsome.” Shaking her head, Honey poured cream into the bowl Maybelle shoved towards her. “If Kaedric dressed like a woman, he could pass as a girl. His skin is too smooth, his lips too full, and he smells like the harlots when they pass you on the path, leaving a cloud of flowers and sweets in their wake.” Maybelle laughed. “Give him a chance, Honey.” “He’s a boring oaf.” “If Kaedric wasn’t so young, he would wed one of us older sisters, but he’s only eighteen seasons, so that leaves you, Li’l One. His money will help mother and the rest of us live in a better manner.” She shrugged as she filled the last bowl. “Otherwise, you would have been permitted to choose your own husband when you felt ready.” Honey wrinkled her nose in distaste. “I am well aware of the reasons behind mother’s negotiations.” She set half the dessert bowls on a tray and half on another. “Let us serve the dessert so that Beautiful Boring Oaf can go home.” Later, Honey sat next to her mother and Shandy with Kaedric and Jorgus sitting across from them. She spooned the last two berries from her bowl into her mouth, their rich, sweet flavor bursting upon her tongue. Not even her favorite dessert could make her feel better. Kaedric kept making sheep eyes at her, watching her every move. Next to him, his father grinned like a buffoon, and Amberon laughed at their feeble jokes. Zoirah, Honey’s oldest sister, shot her sympathetic looks from the end of the table. Honey smiled at her, but returned her attention to the wine and cream pooled in the bottom of her bowl. If she had to meet Kaedric’s gaze one more time, she just might spew berries all over his pretty face. To her right, Shandy shifted in his chair. He took in a slow breath and let it out even more slowly. Anger emanated from him like heat from a hearth stone. Honey snuck a glance at her brother. Although he wore a stoic expression, his eyes blazed with hostility as he answered Jorgus about his many trips into the Great Wood. “How is it that you are the only one who has not been attacked by the more treacherous of the Fae within the Great Wood?” Jorgus asked, his deep, booming voice filling the small room. “Rumor has it that the Fae must favor you,” Kaedric added and laughed. “Of course we all know that’s untrue. I say that you have merely been lucky in your travels.” “You are quite right, young Kaedric,” Shandy replied, his tone even.

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Honeysuckle and Wild Roses “Surely you have a charm,” insisted Jorgus. He took the cloth placed by his bowl and wiped red juice from his bushy white mustache. “You must have something to ward off magic! Others are often attacked by Banshees, and sometimes Trolls who grow bold and venture to the outer reaches of the wood. Even the streams and ponds are home to the treacherous Jenny Greenteeth and Kelpie.” “I simply have not encountered any of the Fae who intend harm, Master Jorgus.” Shandy pushed his cup away a bit too forcefully and moonbeam wine sloshed out onto the tabletop. “I am not a believer in treacherous Faeries. How can I be if I’ve never encountered any? And besides, any race treated with dignity and respect has no reason to be malicious.” Jorgus nodded and crammed the last spoonful of berries into his mouth. Juice, wine and cream dripped from the tips of his mustache, staining it. Honey tried not to grimace at his disgusting style of eating. For one so wealthy, he certainly lacked table manners. She caught Kaedric’s gaze, and he smiled, his eyes lighting up. She stared back coolly before rising to gather up dirty dishes. “Sit, daughter,” Amberon said. She stood and began picking up empty bowls, cups and spoons. “You served dessert, so I shall clean up. Enjoy the company of our guests.” Honey looked up at her mother, dismay settling in her stomach and turning her lovely meal of meadow hen and garden vegetables into a large wad of cold iron. She stared at the dribbles and crumbs on the tablecloth, feeling Kaedric’s triumphant gaze upon her bent head. Somehow, she had to find a way out of her marriage to Kaedric. The man she truly wanted only visited her in her dreams, leaving her panting and desiring a union that would never come to pass. If she didn’t figure out something quickly, she had no choice but to marry Beautiful Boring Oaf.

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Honeysuckle and Wild Roses

Chapter Two The evening drew to a close, and Honey let out a huge sigh of relief as Kaedric and his father stepped out onto the front stoop. If she could get through the next part of the betrothed custom, she had the rest of the night to enjoy without Kaedric’s warm, suggestive glances and smiles. “Son, I will fetch the horses and wait for you by the gate,” Jorgus stated. “I leave you to your moment with your lovely bride-to-be.” He turned to Honey and bowed. “Daughter, I welcome you to my family and bid you goodnight.” Honey watched his wide frame amble down the footpath leading to the barn. The deepening twilight enveloped him as he stepped into the shadows surrounding the lower garden. “It is the couples’ moment to bond,” Amberon announced to Honey’s sisters, but her pointed gaze landed on Shandy. “Let us go inside and leave them in peace.” Giving Honey a helpless look, Shandy stalked off into the shadows behind the cottage while their siblings followed Amberon into the cottage. Taking Honey’s hand, Kaedric gently tugged her towards the path leading down to Amberon’s goldfish pond. “I fear your brother does not like me much,” he said quietly. Honey wanted so much to pull her hand from his, but gritted her teeth instead. “I do not think you like me much either,” Kaedric continued and squeezed her hand. “No, I do not,” Honey answered. “That will change in time,” he replied with assurance as he helped her down a small set of stone steps. “When you start bearing my children, you will not have time to hate me, but soon come to realize that you have grown to love me.” Honey shook her head. “No, I won’t.” “You are young and will change your mind.” Laughter bubbled out of Honey. “You are an arrogant ass. You call me young when you are but six fortnights older than I!” A shadow passed over Kaedric’s smooth, handsome face. “Do not laugh so quickly, my betrothed. Father has already paid your mother in part silver and part gold for your hand in marriage to me.” “Money can be returned.” “Not if it’s been spent.” “She has not spent it for she only received the money tonight.” A sly smile stretched Kaedric’s full-lipped mouth. “There are several sisters under one roof who need and desire many things. The money will go quickly, and you will have no choice but to stay true to our parent’s bargain.” “Did I mention that you are an arrogant ass?” Honey said sweetly, her distaste for Kaedric roiling in the depths of her belly. He grabbed her, pulling her roughly against his body. The perfume upon his tunic assailed Honey’s nose, leaving a peculiar taste in her mouth. A good head taller than she, Kaedric looked down at her with a smugly satisfied smile, his eyes full of triumph. “You are such a fair woman, but your tongue leaves a lot to be desired. Perhaps I shall buy you a nice muzzle until you learn to respect me?” “You will always be an arrogant ass. It’s who you are. I can see it in your eyes. The soul windows never lie, but my mother is too desperate for funds to pay debts and buy necessities to pay attention and realize her mistake!” Pushing against his chest, Honey tried not to gag on his

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Honeysuckle and Wild Roses overwhelming odor of flowers and musk oil. “You might have nice tunics embroidered with bright silks and boots of the softest leather, but you smell like the whore you are!” Rage flashed in Kaedric’s eyes. His beautiful mouth curled up in a vicious sneer and his hand flew back. Shutting her eyes, Honey felt his one hand painfully squeeze her upper arm and awaited the stinging slap that would knock her backwards, but instead, he jerked her against him once more, his mouth seizing hers in a wet, clumsy kiss. She struggled in his arms, shrieking in outrage against his mouth. Stamping her foot in hopes of hurting one of his, her heel connected with a sharp stone that sent pain flying up into her ankle. Kaedric tugged on her skirts, hiking the material up, his hand sliding beneath it, his fingers seeking out her most intimate spot. Revulsion exploded within Honey. She broke the kiss, gasping for air. “No! Get your hands off of me, you swine!” Laughing, Kaedric’s fingers tugged at the ties to her undergarment. “Your eighteenth birthday is tomorrow night. The following morning, we shall be husband and wife. It’s my right to sample what is now rightfully mine.” “Let go of me!” she shrieked again. “I shall have much enjoyment taming you.” He laughed harder. “Let go of her or I shall enjoy choking the life from your body,” Shandy said from the shadows. “My sister is not yet your wife.” Slowly, Kaedric released her and stepped aside. “Your father waits at the gate with the horses,” Shandy continued and stepped out from the concealing darkness of a nearby apple tree. “I suggest that you go get on your horse and ride back to the village before I decide to hurl you there.” “Surely, you do not want to make an enemy out of your future brother,” Kaedric said as he smoothed his tunic and backed away. “Makes no mind to me,” Shandy said, advancing towards Honey and putting his arm around her. “I think this marriage is a farce and shall do what is needed to stop it. My only concern is my sister’s happiness, and you do not make her happy.” Kaedric grinned, but to Honey, the expression looked more like a sneer. He turned, walking down a path. “You shall see that you are making a grave mistake, Shandy,” he called over his shoulder. “I promise you that.” The sound of the horses galloping through the gate finally reached them. Honey looked up at her brother’s stormy face. “You can do nothing to help me now,” she said, anger and despair mixing so that tears threatened to consume her. “Mother has accepted Jorgus’ coin.” “Trust me,” he replied and enveloped her in a hug. She heard her brother’s heart pounding through his tunic as if a great steed were stomping behind his ribs. “I will figure out something.” “Time is of the essence,” she said. “I know, Li’l One. I know.”

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Honeysuckle and Wild Roses

Chapter Three Amberon scolded Bella for spilling her moonbeam wine on the braided rug. Honey found two cleaning rags and knelt by her next-older sister. Together, they sopped up the mess. Satisfied, Amberon commanded the family to sit around the hearth. A roaring fire provided most of the room’s lighting and chased away the dampness from the encroaching dark forest. Sitting between Shandy and their eldest sister, Zoirah, Honey let her gaze wander around the main room of their cottage. She loved this time of day. It was their family ritual to gather around their mother and listen to her read aloud, and after such a grueling evening under Kaedric’s scrutiny and roaming hands, Honey needed the time to relax. Behind Amberon, a shelf held a dozen or so leather bound books. Most were special gifts or volumes passed down from relatives. Only the wealthy or those who held a steady task that paid well could afford the luxury of establishing a library. She wondered if Kaedric’s family possessed a large library that she would enjoy. The hearth crackled with a warm fire. Shadows leapt upon the stones and a water kettle suspended over the licking flames puffed steam out of its spout. Across the room, Callan pushed aside a small basket full of flowers to make room on a low table. She set her wooden cup of wine down on the table’s edge. Ishen, a middle sister, entered the room and fetched a book from off the mantle, handing the volume to Amberon, and then seated herself at Callan’s feet. Once everyone was settled with a cup of ale or wine, Amberon opened the book. “Honestly, Mother,” the next-to-the-oldest, Penelope, said as she eyed the big leather book. “I do not understand why you persist in borrowing from that woman.” “Every villager knows that Widow Keera possesses an extensive library,” Amberon replied calmly. “But if you keep going there, someone might get the wrong impression. Especially since you are a widow too,” Bella added. One of the sisters gasped at her bold remark. Amberon fixed Bella with an icy stare. “Being a widow does not mean a woman must sell her body to survive. Nor does it mean that I’ll become a whore! The fact that the only library within several villages is in a brothel is not lost upon me.” Taking a deep breath, Amberon flipped the book open at its marker. “Besides, do we not worship the goddess of coupling, fertility and love? I doubt Freya frowns much upon the women in the brothel.” “Well said, Mother!” Shandy exclaimed and rose to refill everyone’s cups. “Besides,” Honey added. “We all enjoy the stories that Widow Keera provides.” Amberon smiled at her youngest, a warm light in her earthy eyes. “I have an idea,” Callan said. “Since tomorrow eve is Honey’s eighteenth birthday, why don’t you tell us the legend of our heritage.” Sighing, Amberon closed the book and let it rest in the folds of her heavy dress. “Doesn’t everyone grow weary of me telling this same tale?” “No,” laughed Ishen. Shaking her fair head, Amberon’s exasperation melted. Smiling, she began the tale. “When our ancestors originally settled in the heart of the magical wood, they soon discovered that there were other folk in their midst. Over time, they named them and now we know the Elves, Dwarves, and other Fae by various names, but there was one race of Faerie that frightened our ancestors just as much but in a different manner. They were the ones who camouflaged themselves as the flora and fauna.”

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Honeysuckle and Wild Roses As always, Honey imagined how their ancestors must have felt to encounter such a strange race of people living right under their very noses. Her mother’s tale transported her back to that time, and before she knew it, Honey forgot about her cup of moonbeam wine, the loud, whip-like cracks of the burning logs—and the disturbing thoughts of becoming Kaedric’s wife. “The Green People began stealing mortal women and coupling with them so they would bear more of their race,” Amberon said, spinning the legend so that everyone sat enthralled. “The menfolk tried to fight back, but they couldn’t battle the odd, magical people, so they moved their settlement outside the ancient forest.” “I never understood why our ancestors didn’t invite the Green People to live with them,” Honey interrupted. The older sisters tittered at Honey’s statement. Zoirah said, “Quiet, Li’l One. Your impatience ruins a grand tale.” Heat rushed into Honey’s face. She stared down at her cup, but smiled when Shandy patted her shoulder, his touch comforting. Slowly, she raised her eyes and looked at her mother. Amberon smiled patiently. “Those stolen women gave birth to half Fae children, altering our bloodlines. Our ancestors are direct descendants of the Faerie, the same treacherous, lovely folk we buy our horses from.” “So?” Honey said, making everyone chuckle at her naivety. “So, Li’l One,” Shandy answered. “The seventh daughter of a seventh daughter has a bit of Faerie magic within herself. People fear what they do not understand. Although our ancestors knew there was magic in their blood, they shunned it, pretending the Green People did not exist.” He shrugged, his serious gaze sweeping the room. “Our ancestors turned their backs on their heritage.” “Hush, Shandy!” Amberon said, her dark eyes flashing. “Do you want me to tell the legend, or are you going to finish it?” When everyone grew silent, she nodded in satisfaction, but Honey saw a dark expression cross her brother’s face. He caught her watching him and flashed a bright smile, the resentful look gone like a passing storm cloud. Amberon continued her tale. “It is believed that the natural body essence of special daughters stems from the blood of the Green People. Some daughters smell like lilacs, some like lavender. Therefore, it attracts the last of their race, the Green Man, who hopes to replenish his kind. It is also said that he has a special taste for honeysuckle.” Shandy leered at Honey, playfully jostling her shoulder and making her dribble wine on her dress. “Doesn’t the Green Man love wild roses too?” Honey asked, blushing as Shandy gently brushed the wine from the lap of her dress. The book clunked to the floor, and Amberon’s voice cracked. “What did you say?” The tone of her mother’s voice drew her gaze from Shandy’s gentle touch to Amberon’s stunned expression. Honey gulped and said, “You once told me the Green Man has a passion for wild roses.” “I don’t recall ever telling you such a thing.” Amberon’s voice quavered slightly. Her fingers played nervously with the silky tuft of hair at the end of her heavy blonde braid. “Everyone was in bed,” Honey said. “I was cold, so I came downstairs to sit by the fire. You had been sipping heavily on moonbeam wine that eve, and you told me a story that I have never forgotten. A tale about how you took Shandy with you to the forest to dig tubers, but the Green Man stole him away. You said that only after making seven wreaths of wild roses for him did he

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Honeysuckle and Wild Roses return Shandy to you. Your enchanted touch kept them alive for him during the cold months. I think I was about five years old when you told me that tale.” Honey’s gaze grew distant. “For weeks afterwards, I was frightened that the Green Man would carry me away too.” “Freya bless me. I truly have no recollection of telling you that.” A weary sigh slipped from Amberon. “Is the Green Man really the last of his race?” Bella asked. She covered a yawn with her hand. “Eventually, even the Fae die.” “True,” said Zoirah as she straightened her skirts. “But I don’t think the Green People ever existed. I believe the legend was created to keep people from going too deeply into the great wood.” Callan said, “If the Green People are real—” “They must be real,” Honey interrupted. “We know there are Faeries—we trade and barter with some of them—so why couldn’t there be Green People too?” “Shush!” Callan said, glancing over at Honey, her brow wrinkling in irritation at the interruption. “If the Green People do exist,” she began again, “how do we protect ourselves from being carried away? Especially,” she cast yet another look towards Honey, “a special daughter.” Laughing, Shandy said, “Mother insists that Honey’s namesake will protect her from the Green Man.” “How?” asked Honey. “On each stroke of midnight, the hour of your birth, she must hang honeysuckle on the doors and windows of the house. The twelfth one is a chaplet for you to wear on your head.” He shot an amused look toward Amberon. The sisters uttered gasps of dismay at Shandy’s boldly amused tone. Amberon thumped the book down on the side table by her chair and the room instantly grew still. “How dare you make fun of me! Your grandmother handed that ritual down to me!” Honey gently reprimanded her brother. “We shouldn’t poke fun at Mother’s beliefs and superstitions! She honors our goddess. Is it not Freya who favors the Fae folk above all others?” “’Tis true,” he answered. “But I am not making fun of Mother. I merely feel sympathy for her being duped so easily.” Amberon stared at Shandy, her cheeks pink, her dark eyes bright with anger. She rose from her chair, looking like a Fae queen with her heavy yellow braid hanging down the front of her dress, her pale, flawless skin golden in the firelight. Coolly, she said, “May Freya forgive your callous tongue. Perhaps I should have let the Green Man keep your worthless hide.” She turned, ascending the stairs to the upper chambers, and called out, “Good night, daughters.” *** His hot tongue darted into her mouth. She sighed in pleasure, her arms snaking around his neck. Honey eagerly arched against him, frustrated with her dress, wanting to feel her naked skin against his warm body, his cock, hard and hot, inside her. He released her lips, making eye contact with her, and she lost herself in his bright emerald gaze. “You belong to me,” he whispered, his voice strangely musical. “You know that, don’t you?” Honey answered him by drawing his head down to her unfastened dress front. He nuzzled her breasts, his rough tongue swirling over their erect peaks. She pulled at his tunic, her loins fiery

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Honeysuckle and Wild Roses with need as she arched against his hips, urging him to join their bodies and thrust deeply between her legs. Her lover uttered a growl of desire and seized the delicate tip of one nipple. Whimpering in pleasure, Honey relaxed, allowing him to kiss and suckle her breasts. Slowly, maddeningly, he trailed kisses down to the planes of her stomach, his tongue investigating every inch of her skin. He slid one hand beneath her skirts, his fingers questing through her undergarment until he discovered her wet and swollen. He stroked the folds between her legs, sending tingles of desire and pure sexual energy flying through her body like tiny lightning bolts. Honey felt juices slipping from her body and sensed an incredible power building inside her with each tantalizing caress. She moaned and pulled at his shoulders, needing to feel his weight pressing down upon her, wanting him to pierce her body, but instead of giving her what she craved, her lover slipped two fingers into her soft, satiny recesses. Honey cried out, delirious from the sensations coursing through her body. Why wouldn’t he make love to her? She wanted him to show her what it felt like to be one, to revel in the physical sensations that she often heard about, but had never experienced. “Please,” she whispered. “Take me. Make me yours.” His dazzling green gaze met hers, and he smiled. “I’ve already told you that you’re mine. No one shall have you but me—no one!” He swirled his fingers inside her, and Honey’s eyes rolled back as she gasped, straining against his hand. The fire building in her loins both thrilled and frightened her. How much more would it increase before she couldn’t stand it any longer? “Please!” she said. “I want you.” “Be patient. I shall take you away with me very soon.” He moved his fingers in and out, and just when the need within her womanhood grew to blazing proportions, he kissed her and slipped away into a swirling mist. “I will take you to the heavens each night we are together…” Honey sat up in bed with a start. Embarrassed, panting, her crotch throbbing almost painfully, she realized her undergarments were saturated with her fluids. What was wrong with her? “Honey?” a voice whispered from the doorway. The curtain over the bedchamber door swung back. Shandy stepped just inside the threshold. “Shandy?” She frowned, yanking the bed covers up over her sweating body, heat flaring into her face. “What are you doing up?” He walked into the half-light spilling in from the single window. Callan muttered and rolled over, snoring softly. “I heard you fussing in your sleep again.” “I’m fine,” Honey whispered. “Well, if you’re sure you’re all right.” He stretched and yawned. “I’m going back to bed.” “I’m—I’m fine.” He nodded. “G’night, Li’l One.” Honey’s face flamed hotter, making her grateful for the darkness. She thought about her dream lover, wondering who he was, if he even existed at all. She lay back against her pillow, her loins still pulsing with desire, body still thrumming with need. Inhaling deeply, she thought she smelled spices and sunbaked leaves upon her nightgown. With a heavy sigh, Honey turned toward the window. She noted the brightening of the deep gray sky as Freya’s blue-black cats approached pulling her chariot of perpetual sunlight. She felt the goddess’ power more strongly during the time of unceasing daylight, but she didn’t

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Honeysuckle and Wild Roses understand the sexual dreams that had been plaguing her for the past few months. Dreams that had grown in intensity and frequency of late. Who was this strange, intoxicating lover who ruled her body, her mind…and her heart?

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Chapter Four The Great Wood looked somber, foreboding. As Honey stood in her mother’s flower garden, she assessed the towering forest next to her home and pondered the fact that she was about to turn eighteen seasons. Inside, she could hear Amberon giving the eldest sisters directions on where to tack up the cloth lanterns and homemade streamers for her birthday. Honey wondered if it saddened her mother that her youngest child was now a woman, one that would be unhappily wed upon the next morn. She returned her attention to the ancient forest. Something within it whispered an invitation to her. The trees, incredibly old and vast, and many as big around as a house, stood like elderly giants looking down on the villagers. Their grand size had forced the men from the surrounding villages to hew passageways through them. Gathered around evening fires, villagers told tales of their ancestors living beneath the great canopy and mingling with its magic. Looking upon the monstrous fortress, Honey nodded. Yes, there certainly was magic inside that dark, esoteric place. “Thinking a woman’s thoughts?” a deep timbre voice teased. Turning, Honey smiled at her brother. Their father had been dead for several seasons so the sisters looked to Shandy for manly guidance, often vying for his attention. Honey knew that their sisters sometimes envied her special bond with their brother, but as soon as a sibling voiced her irritation or hurt, Shandy’s charming smiles and bawdy jokes smoothed everything over. Today was no different. She caught Callan favoring them with dark looks as she watered the flowers by the front door. Honey sighed, hoping her sister would keep her barbed words to herself and not spoil her celebration that evening. The following morning’s wedding was enough for her to worry about without adding sibling rivalry to it. She looked up into her brother’s inquiring eyes. Slipping his arm around her shoulders, Shandy offered her a lopsided grin, the same smile that made many of the townswomen sigh with longing. “I’m somewhat melancholy,” Honey replied, enjoying the feel of his arm draped over her shoulders. “Sad? On your birthday?” He took her hand and spun her around as if they were dancing, her skirts billowing outwards like an unfurling flower. “How can you possibly be sad on such a wonderful day?” She shrugged. “My childhood is gone and I will be a married woman tomorrow.” “You sound like a wistful old woman lamenting the days of her youth,” he laughed. “Growing older happens to all of us, but as I’ve told you, you need not worry about Kaedric taking you as his wife.” She closed her eyes as he kissed the top of her fair head, and leaned into him. She felt him linger, hearing him inhale deeply of her natural honeysuckle aroma. “How will you fix it so that I won’t have to marry that boorish pretty boy?” she questioned when he finally pulled away from her. Shandy burst out laughing. “As long as you don’t mention it to Mother or our sisters, it will be handled.” He looked at her gravely. “Do you promise?” She nodded, feeling hope spark within her heart. “Where are you off to this afternoon?” “Into the forest to cut honeysuckle.” Shandy turned towards the house. “Mother wants it for your party tonight. She’s going to make those wreaths I spoke of last night.” His grin grew wider. “Care to join me?” “Let me get my shawl,” she answered, delighted to have some time with him.

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Honeysuckle and Wild Roses Together, they strolled to the house. Honey thought about the lovely party she would have when they returned and wondered what color sugar coating her mother would put on her cake. Callan looked up from where she kneeled in the flowerbeds. “Going somewhere?” she asked. “We’re going to cut honeysuckle,” Honey replied. Callan’s pale brown gaze met Honey’s. Looking deeply into her sister’s eyes, Honey wasn’t sure if she saw envy or concern within them. Her sister glanced over at Shandy. “Do you think that is wise? The hour grows late.” “We won’t be gone long,” he replied, opening the door. “We’ll only cut enough honeysuckle for Mother’s wreaths.” He shrugged. “Besides, she’ll be angry with me if I don’t fetch some for her.” “Take care,” said Callan. She smiled at Honey, and then pointed at the basket full of cut flowers. “I will make you a lovely bouquet for your celebration tonight.” Inside, Honey paused by the front door and reached for her shawl hanging from a peg. She heard Shandy say something to Amberon in the meal room. Tossing her covering over one arm, she barely glanced at her sister, Maybelle, who sat by the hearth mending clothes. When Shandy’s voice grew louder, Amberon’s voice rose too. Fearing an argument, Honey stepped into the doorway. Her gaze swept over the chaos caused by her mother and Ishen as they prepared her birthday feast. Pots and kettles covered every available surface. Baskets full of flowers, fruits and vegetables sat on the floor beside the back door. Two slain ducks lay across the eating table waiting for someone to scald and pluck them; their distasteful odor of blood and death mixed with the pungent aroma of drying herbs hanging from the rafters. “I said you’re not taking her with you,” Amberon snapped. She carved a melon with vengeance, the knife flashing in the lamplight. Next to her, Ishen peeled and diced fruit to go inside it, her anxious gaze darting between her mother and brother. Nicking herself, Ishen gasped and poked the tip of her index finger into her mouth. The stormy expression on Shandy’s face sent a wave of dismay and worry through Honey. “We’re not going to be gone long,” he said. “You insisted that you have honeysuckle to create the wards to protect her, so you shall have it.” Pausing, Shandy took a deep breath and clenched his hands into fists. “She can’t be your baby forever, Mother.” A finger of unease poked at Honey’s spine. Why was her brother being so—commanding? Ishen glanced over at her, smiling nervously. Her face brightened a bit and she said, “Do you need something, Li’l One?” Her ploy worked. Amberon and Shandy turned towards Honey. “Are we still going?” Honey failed to mask the disappointment in her voice. It was as if the sun came out when her brother smiled. “Of course. Let us go,” he answered, his tone jovial once more. “After you apologize to Mother.” Honey slipped her shawl around her shoulders. “What?” A startled sound escaped Ishen. She set her paring knife on the table and quickly made a show of stirring a kettle simmering over the hearth. “You may be the man of the house now,” Honey stated, feeling an odd sort of sympathy for her mother that she didn’t understand. “But it’s Mother’s house that you’re the man of.” She stepped around the table and kissed Amberon’s cheek. Surprise sliced through her when she found it wet. “You owe her respect—we all do.”

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Honeysuckle and Wild Roses Shandy blinked as if she’d slapped him. For a moment, he stared at Honey, but his gaze slid away and settled on their mother. He leaned over, also kissing Amberon. “Forgive me.” “Protect her, Shandy, and may Freya protect her as well,” Amberon said, her words clipped. She slid the melon across the table to Ishen, but turned to look directly into her son’s eyes. “Honey is vulnerable this night. When the twelfth hour arrives, so will her magic.” “Oh come now, Mother,” Ishen laughed from her spot by the hearth. “Surely, you don’t believe that Honey will possess magic. It’s merely a family legend.” Amberon didn’t even acknowledge her other daughter’s scornful statement. Her gaze bored into Shandy, and again, unease slithered through Honey. “If he finds her,”Amberon added quietly, “I’ll never forgive you.” Her eyes sparkled with simmering anger. “Never.” *** Outside, Shandy questioned, “Are you turning eighteen seasons or eighty?” “What do you mean?” Pausing on the stoop, Honey picked up a large basket and slid its braided handle over her forearm. “Your wisdom astounds me, Li’l One,” he said. “You have a wise heart.” “That’s odd,” Honey allowed him to hook her arm through his as they walked to the stable, “I always thought of it as common sense.” Shandy’s deep laughter rolled across the flower gardens. After saddling the horses, Shandy helped her climb up onto her steed. He fetched a pole and lantern propped by the barn door and lit the lamp with a flint stone. Mounting, he hung the light on one end of the pole and braced the other end in his stirrup. They rode out of the stable just as their sister, Penelope, passed through the farm’s gate. “Where are you two going?” she asked, looking up at them. “Into the woods to gather honeysuckle,” Shandy answered. Honey leaned over slightly, peering into her sister’s basket. “Is that crock full of sugar paste? Mother will be quite pleased.” Smiling, Penelope nodded. “Tobias didn’t have enough coins to pay me for cleaning his cottage the past few days, so he made up the difference with some sugar paste he found in an old stump. He said if the sweet beetles make more, he’ll have another crock for me next week.” Her grin grew wider. “I’m going to ask Mother if I may make the make the sugar icing for your birthday cake.” Honey reached down and stroked the curls on top of Penelope’s head. “You are the most thoughtful of my sisters.” Clasping her hand, Penelope squeezed it. “Be safe in the woods, but don’t be gone long. I don’t really believe Mother’s stories, but just the same, don’t take any chances.” Honey and Shandy rode out of the stable yard. As they passed the outskirts of the village, they waved at children splashing in the brook. Shandy called out to Old Roy, who swung an ax at a large block of wood for his evening fire. Several cottages and the two taverns already had bluegray smoke trails twisting from their chimneys. The barmaid from Didgi’s Tavern swept debris from the back stoop. She paused, greeting them, but directed her enormous smile and the extra jiggle of her generous bosom at Shandy. “Is there a woman in the village who isn’t smitten with you, dear brother?” Honey laughed. He turned his horse onto the trail leading out of town and shot her a wicked grin. “Only you, Li’l One.”

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Honeysuckle and Wild Roses Laughing, Honey replied, “I’m your sister, so I don’t count.” The expression in Shandy’s eyes both thrilled and frightened her. The sensation left Honey feeling guilty and yet strangely excited. She looked away, reminding herself that he was indeed her brother. She concentrated on the meadow sprawling between the village and the Great Wood, admiring the tall grasses dotted with purple, yellow and white blooms. A cool evening breeze stirred the wildflowers and brought the aroma of warm hay. Honey thought the meadow looked like a green lake full of gentle waves. Studying the rippling landscape, she noticed a dark blot off to the right and a faint trail of bent grass leading to it. As they rode closer, Honey recognized the bent form as Zoirah, who had gone out earlier to dig roots and gather herbs. She tugged on her steed’s reins and left the trail, riding towards her sister. Zoirah looked up when she heard the horses snort. Tears bathed her face, and she wiped her nose with the edge of her apron. Dismounting, Honey gave Shandy her reins and walked over to her sister. Still astride, he followed, leading her horse. “Zoirah?” Honey said. She saw her sister’s face redden before Zoirah glanced away to swipe at her eyes. “What’s wrong? Are you hurt or ill?” Uneasiness settled in her belly. Still avoiding her gaze, Zoirah stooped and gathered up the remaining bundles of roots, blossoms and leaves, depositing them in neat piles in her basket. “I’m fine,’ she said, her voice thick with misery. “Something has you terribly upset.” Honey stopped next to her sister, studying the threadbare cap upon her bowed head. “Tell me what bothers you.” Finally, Zoirah looked at her with miserable, dark brown eyes. “I’m in trouble.” Honey stifled a small gasp. “Are you with child before your marriage?” Shaking her head, Zoirah said, “No, but I might as well be.” “I don’t understand.” Her sister plucked a long strand of field grass and tied it around a cluster of wild mustard. She glanced up at Shandy, the red of her cheeks deepening. “Nero lay with me a few nights ago.” Her breath hitched and she paused, struggling with her tears. “I overheard him telling the barmaid that he has no intentions of marrying me. He laid with me only so that on our wedding night he could claim that I’m not a virgin and return me to the family. He said he will make Mother pay him in coin for her deceit.” “I will handle Nero,” Shandy said, his voice icy. “If you do that,” said Honey, her gaze darting over to him, “everyone will know that Zoirah is no longer chaste. None of the men will want her to wife.” “No one will know.” Anger leapt in Shandy’s green eyes. “Nero has courted you for four seasons, Zoirah. He will marry you and be a good husband, or by the power of Freya, he will remain silent so that no one can label you as impure.” A weary sigh escaped Zoirah. “Do you promise, brother?” “I swear it.” Seeing the black look on Shandy’s face, a shiver slipped through Honey. “What if Nero refuses to take me for his wife?” asked Zoirah. “How do I prove I’m a virgin to the next man who might like to marry me?” Honey assured helped her sister up. “If it comes to that, then we will use pig’s blood to stain your marriage bed.”

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Honeysuckle and Wild Roses “Let’s not worry about that now.” The anger in Shandy’s voice softened. He handed Honey the reins to her horse. “I’ll speak with Nero, but until then, let us concentrate on Honey’s celebration tonight.” Nodding, Zoirah slipped the big basket over her forearm. Her lower lip quivered slightly and a fat tear wobbled down one cheek. Reaching out, Honey gently wiped it away with her thumb. “We won’t let anyone hurt you.” A faint smiled graced Zoirah’s lips. “You’re so sweet, Li’l One,” she said. “Thank you.” “Aren’t we a pair?” Honey asked. Frowning, her sister replied, “What do you mean?” A weary sigh escaped Honey. “You worry that Nero will refuse you as his wife, and I worry that I must marry Kaedric tomorrow morn.” “But Kaedric is rich, handsome and charming.” Honey met Zoirah’s dark gaze, a silent communication passing between them. “I have seen into his soul, dear sister.” Leaning towards her, Zoirah placed a gentle kiss upon Honey’s cheek. “Then I shall support you in return.” “Thank you,” said Honey, her heart swelling with affection for her older sister. “Would you like a ride home, Zoirah?” asked Shandy. “No, I shall walk so the wind can dry my tears.” “We’re going into the forest to cut honeysuckle for Mother.” Honey climbed up into her saddle and adjusted her skirts. “We shall be back soon.” “The hour grows late.” Walking past the horses, her voluminous skirts nudging the tall grass aside, Zoirah looked over her shoulder. “Keep her safe, Shandy.”

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Honeysuckle and Wild Roses

Chapter Five Although it was the year of unceasing daylight, the sun’s illumination was at its weakest, giving the forest the aura of approaching darkness. The musty odors of decaying wood, leaves, and pine needles mingled with the heady aroma of blooming berry bushes, and the smell of damp forest earth left a queer taste in Honey’s mouth. They rode deeper into the silent sentries, the sounds of nocturnal animals growing louder as the day ended. A screech owl sent shivers down Honey’s stiff spine, its call the ghostly echo of a furious Banshee. As she followed her brother through tunnel after tunnel carved out of the gargantuan trunks, Honey was grateful that Shandy had remembered to bring a small lantern. It hung from the hooked pole and dangled above his Fae mount’s head, lighting their way. They passed a fellow astride a steed, a slain stag strapped across the animal’s rump. The man greeted them with a nod and a polite smile. Moments later, an old woman and her granddaughter emerged from a passageway ahead, toting baskets laden with tubers and inky berries. As the matron ambled by, she dipped her snowy head in greeting, but paused, inhaling deeply. “Honeysuckle,” the lady said loud enough to draw their attention. “A seventh daughter of a seventh daughter, are you not?” Honey reined in her horse and twisted in the saddle, looking back at her. “Yes, I am. Why?” “You should never enter these woods, child. The Green Man of the forest will desire you for his own.” The small girl at her side pointed at Honey, smiling so widely that Honey noticed she’d lost three baby teeth. “Pretty lady,” the child said. “And she smells pretty too, Mamma.” The old woman clasped her granddaughter’s hand and turned away. “Good evening to you both,” she called over her shoulder. “May Freya protect you from the Green Man’s magic, child.” Chuckling, Shandy gently kicked his heels against his mount’s sides, urging it onward. Without any prompting, Honey’s faerie steed hurried to catch up. “Wait, Shandy,” Honey cried. “Why do you laugh at the old woman?" Her brother turned mischievous leaf green eyes upon her. He shrugged and replied, “The old grandmother is referring to Mother’s tale of the Green People and the legend of our magical blood line.” She frowned. “I know that, Shandy, but your laughter is that of someone who knows more. Mother’s tale is just a tale, isn’t it?” “Ah, I see that my sweet Li’l One doesn’t truly believe Mother’s stories of magic and superstition after all,” Shandy said sagely and straightened in his saddle. Honey maneuvered her horse to walk abreast of Shandy’s. She studied her brother’s amused expression for a moment, feeling slightly angry toward him and not entirely sure why. “I’m not saying there isn’t magical folk living somewhere deep within the Great Wood, but the sensible part of me says that the truth is more likely a race preferring isolation, worshipping creatures and spirits that do not exist.” “Their blood surges through both our bodies,” Shandy said, his eyes full of merriment. “You’re the seventh daughter of a seventh daughter, and your body’s fragrance is that of the honeysuckle.” A funny feeling began to steal through her. He was making fun of her! “You chastised me for poking fun at Mother last night. Now who’s shunning Mother’s beliefs and superstitions?” Shandy cocked an eyebrow, looking at her in triumph.

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Honeysuckle and Wild Roses A squirrel chattered somewhere in the lower tree limbs, and a soft breeze soughed through the hewn trunks bearing the aroma of musty leaves and—Honey paused, sniffing. She smelled…cloves? She returned her attention to Shandy’s smug expression, fighting the urge to slap it off his face. “Do not taunt me, brother,” she said, keeping her voice even. “I do not disrespect mother as you do. I’m only looking at things more logically.” When he didn’t reply, she added, “Why do you challenge our Mother, especially where I am concerned?” “As I said earlier, you have much wisdom.” He clucked to his steed and snapped the reins, urging it to step over a root jutting in the path. “And you remind me much of Father. He was practical and logical as well, but you still have much to learn and now is not the time to explain it.” As he urged his steed through another passageway, Honey’s horse followed. Shandy glanced over his shoulder at her, his charming smile instantly melting her irritation with him. “Forgive me, Li’l One. It was not my intention to wound your feelings.” “I know,” she replied. “It’s just that your bold way of speaking sometimes shocks me.” He shrugged. “I grow weary of being the man of Mother’s house. It is time that I choose a wife and make my own home.” It felt as if the bottom fell out of Honey’s heart. “Are you smitten with someone, brother?” “Yes, there is one who has won my heart.” He sat straight, looking forward, his hands tugging this way and that on the reins as he directed his steed around several enormous stumps. They entered The Clearing, an area where the villagers had felled trees for lumber. A few stumps had fire pits in their centers to warm weary travelers or for those working in the forest to rest and prepare meals. Her brother’s announcement made Honey feel like The Clearing looked—empty and stripped of all life. “Who has captured my brother’s heart?” she asked. “I will reveal who she is at the right moment,” Shandy said over his shoulder. “I must first help Zoirah with Nero before I stir up the household with my news.” A cold, hard lump wedged in Honey’s throat. When Shandy married, who would tease her and make her laugh in the garden when the fireflies twirled upon the evening breeze? Who would defend her when her older sisters tormented her for being the unique daughter? Most of all—Honey sighed, fighting tears—who would she talk to and share her dreams with? Shandy understood her when no one else did, and without him, she felt lost. The aroma of blooming honeysuckle permeated the damp air. Honey tried to peer ahead, knowing they were near the place where the silver-white blooms trailed up and down the tree trunks and hung almost to the ground in thick perfumed curtains. Her attention returned to her brother. She studied Shandy’s broad shoulders, the way the lantern light made his pale hair look silver, and how his body moved with his steed’s, as if they were one creature instead of two. Sighing, she gripped the reins tighter. She understood that Shandy needed to find a wife and start his own family. Despite the fact that he was her brother, she wasn’t blind to his charms and handsome body, or how the womenfolk fawned all over him, vying to become his future wife. Still, she felt as though Shandy belonged to her. She was his favorite sister. If she truly loved her brother and wanted the best for him, she needed to be happy for him. Instead, she wished she could claw out the eyes of the woman who had finally won Shandy’s heart. Honeysuckle vines hung like curly tresses throughout the trees. Staring up into the darkness above them, Honey tried to see how far she could trace the aromatic blooms before losing them

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Honeysuckle and Wild Roses in the gloom above. The scent of sweet blossoms wrapped around her. She breathed deeply, reveling in the intoxicating odor. Shandy dismounted and stretched, groaning. He reached up and helped Honey down from her steed. Placing his hand on her shoulder, he looked deeply into her eyes and said, “I will always be here for you, Li’l One.” How did he always seem to know her thoughts, she wondered? She offered him a weak smile and quickly looked away so he wouldn’t see the tears pricking her eyes. “Stay close to my side,” he said, withdrawing a dagger from the sheath at his belt. “If you stray too far, the Green Man might capture you and carry you away.” Honey retrieved a small knife from out of her boot and began cutting long streamers of the fragrant blossoms. She sent him an irritated look over one shoulder. “I don’t care for your teasing, brother.” “You’re right,” Shandy winked at her, “the Green Man would probably think you’re too scrawny and mouthy to keep for long!” When he turned his back to her, Honey swung the bundle of vines she’d just cut at his back. The honeysuckle slapped across his tunic, cracking like a whip, but Shandy jumped away, laughing. “All right, Li’l One, all right!” He dropped his dagger and held his hands up. “I surrender!” “Today I become of age,” she whispered, her throat tight. Turning away, she cut long strips of her namesake pregnant with silvery, sweet-smelling blooms. After placing them in bundles, Honey returned to her horse, rummaged in a saddlebag and withdrew braided strands of hair fashioned from their mount’s tails and cascading manes. She tied the vine bundles together with the horsehair braids. As she worked, she glanced up, frowning at her brother, who watched her from where he leaned against his steed’s withers. He wiped dirt from the handle of his dagger. “I seem to have a talent for hurting your feelings today. Again, I apologize, Li’l One. This is your day to celebrate. You’re officially a woman, and I should respect and treat you as such. Forgive me.” “Keep your apologies.” Honey blinked tears away, furious at herself for being so emotional and even more furious at the fact that she didn’t understand why. “I think we’ve gathered enough honeysuckle for Mother.” “Yes, let us be on our way. The fog is rolling in, and these are treacherous woods.” His deep, melodious voice drifted oddly upon the air currents. The damp breeze swirled through the trees, bringing with it wisps of glittering mist. Glancing around their honeysuckle bower, Honey shivered. She noted how the darkness and gyrating mist seemed to cut them off from the rest of the world. What magical things were watching them from the darkness, she wondered? *** They rode slowly, the fog reflecting the lantern’s illumination. Honey felt as if she were cocooned within a moist cottony womb where sounds were distorted and feelings intensified. Although the faerie steeds had extraordinary eyesight, they snorted and fidgeted as if unsure of the way and shied at anything that loomed in the well-worn trail. The horse’s hoofbeats sounded hollow, and as the siblings passed an enormous oak, a tree frog shrieked, startling Honey so that she nearly fell from her steed. Shandy caught her by the arm and righted her in the saddle.

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Honeysuckle and Wild Roses Furious with herself for being frightened by a mere frog, she straightened, squaring her shoulders. “We must find a place where we can wait out this fog,” Shandy said gravely. “Mother will be wroth with me, but she’ll be happier knowing I kept you from riding into a deep pit or falling prey to the hungry kiss of a lurking Leanan-Sidhe.” He took her reins and led them off the path. Their short trek to discover a safe haven became a series of twists through the trees silently spewing from the earth’s soft flesh. A mass of bushes and vines erupted from out of the whirling white blanket. The moist fragrance of various blossoms spun lazily on the shimmering moisture. Honey caught a faint whiff of spices. She inhaled until it was almost painful, but the curious aroma eluded her. “It looks like there is a sheltered spot in those bushes over there,” Shandy’s voice rumbled in the muffled quiet. Honey jumped when his strong, sure hands grasped her waist, lifting her from her horse. “Calm down,” he soothed. “I’ll not let anything happen to you, Li’l One.” He led her by the hand and ducked through the leaves. Inside, a cavern of foliage concealed them and provided a quiet resting place. Lavender roses glowed softly overhead and on the leafy sides. Shandy doused the lantern, saving the remainder of their oil. Scattered on the ground, nearly as thick as a fur rug, lay soft fern fronds mixed with flower petals. “Oh, how lovely,” Honey whispered in awe. “Where did this place come from?” Her brother shrugged. “Perhaps Freya has provided it. Maybe it’s meant for those who lose their way.” He sat down in the plush greenery. “Sometimes the Fae favor weary travelers. We may as well rest. We’ll not be going anywhere until the mist clears.” Oddly enough, it felt warm and snug inside the leafy cave. Honey let her shawl spill around her feet and snuggled down next to her brother. “I am a little weary,” she mumbled sleepily, “but I don’t want to miss my party.” Shandy drew her next to him and placed her head upon his chest. She lay still and listened intently to the steady beat of his heart. “Forgive me for ruining your birthday, Li’l One.” “You did no such thing.” She patted his chest. “I’d much rather spend my birthday with you than at home quarreling with our sisters.” “I must say I’m honored.” Honey giggled. “You know what I mean, silly,” she teased back. The steady thumping of his soul lulled her to the edge of sleep. The scent of spices assailed her nose. She licked her lips and thought she tasted cloves. “Do you smell spices?” Honey murmured against his side. “No, Li’l One. I smell only your sweet scent.”

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Chapter Six It felt like she had been asleep for an eternity. Slowly, Honey roused, becoming acutely aware of the inebriating scent of spices. Sensing something amiss, alarm flashed through her. She knew those wonderful aromas, had smelled them in her dreams and upon awakening, had found them lingering upon her bedclothes. With a soft cry, Honey sat up straight, her only thought to flee, but steely arms snaked around her, pulling her tight against a very warm body. “What’s wrong?” Shandy asked. Honey realized her brother still had her in his arms, the two of them sleeping and her dreams overtaking her subconscious. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I must’ve been dreaming again.” Shandy let out a big sigh. “By the gods, Li’l One! You scared me when you sat up like that!” Scrambling to her feet, Honey picked up her shawl and said, “The hour grows late! Mother will skin us!” “We can’t.” Shandy sat up, watching her carefully. An uneasy feeling seeped into Honey’s bones. “Why not?” “Remember that I told you I would figure out some way so that you wouldn’t be forced to marry Kaedric?” She nodded. “I know of a way, but you may balk at the idea.” “What is it?” He sighed and stood up. “I’m—I’m not sure how to explain it.” A bright light flared at the mouth of their leafy hideaway, followed by a firm, melodious voice that said, “Time is of the essence, King Roahre. I shall help you in revealing the truth to her.” Honey’s head snapped toward the sudden illumination and voice. Her eyes widened, and with a cry of dismay, she fell to the ground and kneeled, facedown, her forehead pressed against the ferns and flower petals, arms flat at the sides of her head. “Forgive me, Freya,” Shandy said. “I love her so.” “Yes,” amusement filled the goddess’ voice, “It is obvious.” Quivering with fear and dread, Honey sensed something close to her head. Hesitantly, she opened her eyes and lifted her gaze just enough to see a large pair of embroidered boots mere inches from her nose. “Rise, Honey,” Freya said above her. “We have much to talk about, and I am not one for quivering subjects prostrate before me. Rise, look upon me. Show me that you are worthy of your destiny.” Shandy took Honey’s hand and, gently, he tugged her to her feet to stand at his side. She stared at the goddess, her mind denying the image before her. Somehow, the foliage had expanded, creating a larger room. Two enormous blue black cats lay near the entrance, their golden gazes ever watchful of their mistress. One flicked its thick, powerful tail, while the other yawned in a bored manner, revealing sharp, gleaming teeth. Honey’s frightened gaze darted back to Freya, who stood well above her head. Looking up, she marveled at the goddess’s size and height. The ballads and tales of Freya’s beauty failed miserably at conveying the truth. She regarded Honey with amusement in her blazing blue eyes. Her golden skin possessed an ethereal glow, and hair the color of new gold coins tumbled in waves around her shoulders, falling gently to her hips. Wearing men’s trousers, Freya wore their

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Honeysuckle and Wild Roses cuffs tucked into soft leather boots tooled and embroidered brightly with her goddess symbols, an image of a black cat wrapping around each calf. Runes and jewels covered her tunic, and a wide belt of glimmering fabric cinched her waist. Gold and silver armbands adorned each of her forearms. With a smile, Freya stepped forward. Using two fingers, she placed them under Honey’s chin. Her gentle touch felt cool, and the heady aroma of citrus swirled into Honey’s senses. She felt her lips meet as Freya closed her mouth for her. The goddess’ smile grew wider and she glanced over at Shandy. “She is very young and innocent,” Freya said. “However, she will make a most excellent queen.” “What?” To Honey, her voice sounded far away, as if she was hearing her faint echo. “I was about to tell you the truth when Freya appeared,” Shandy said. Turning, Honey looked up into his eyes and sensed a horrible revelation about to descend upon her. He smiled reassuringly, but somehow, the expression only inspired fear within her heart. “I’m not who you think I am.” She looked first at the goddess, followed by meeting her brother’s green gaze, and deep within her, recognition stirred like a newborn in its mother’s womb. Flashes of images filled her mind. She saw scenes of green embers alighting on Shandy’s boots and in the grass to wink out like dying sparks. And she often awoke from her disturbingly erotic dreams to find Shandy nearby, checking on her because she had fussed in her sleep... Could it be that he...? No! It wasn’t possible...or was it? Her gaze flew up to meet Freya’s. The goddess looked back with compassion, sympathy. Fear clenched Honey’s heart so tightly she had to struggle to draw a breath. So many things came crashing in on her. The countless stormy looks he had given Mother, their arguments, his anger towards Kaedric, his protectiveness... “Please,” she whispered feebly, “Tell me it isn’t so.” “Keep an open mind, child—as well as an open heart.” “Fear not and look upon me,” he whispered. Slowly, her insides quivering, her heart pounding, Honey faced Shandy. Although the voice belonged to her brother, it sounded strange, different. A bright emerald hue replaced the leaf green color of his eyes. It couldn’t be Him! “Shandy?” Her mind reeled. She froze, terrified to move, trying to comprehend who—or what—she was seeing. How could this be? “What has happened to you?” “I am not really your brother.” His deep, melodious voice began to calm her. “Look upon me and know my true identity.” Although he whispered his command, it exuded raw power. Bright green sparkles shimmered in the air around him. The lifelike embers danced across his embroidered tunic, in his platinum hair, along his trousers and down to his boots. Elongated eyes, wide, commanding and alive with intense sexuality looked back at Honey. His were emerald windows to a soul she recognized instantly. She studied Shandy’s face framed with long pale hair, the high angular cheekbones and slender, slightly pointed ears, his skin tinged a pale green. He looked leaner, taller, and just as willowy as any other belonging to a Fae race, but his eyes revealed the hunger growing inside him. His need for her both frightened and excited Honey. She knew him for the one who touched her dreams, leaving her confused and craving the union of their bodies, their hearts. “I know you,” she breathed.

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Honeysuckle and Wild Roses “I’ve been waiting such a long time for you,” he said. “Freya told me you had been born, but I didn’t believe it until I saw you with my own eyes. For years, I watched you from afar, and finally, when you were about five seasons old, I captured your brother, taking his place so I could watch you grow into the woman you are now.” “Freya told you?” Honey echoed, confusion washing over her. She shook her head. “I thought Shandy had been returned?” “Your mother only thought I returned Shandy to her. Shandy lives with the Green People. He’s part of them now, one of them. I took his place.” “But how is this possible?” “Show her, King Roahre,” Freya said. She moved to stand behind Honey and placed her hands upon her shoulders. Warmth and strength flowed into Honey’s body, invigorating her and calming her thundering heart and suffocating fear. “Showing her is the only way to convince her.” “King?” Honey looked up at the goddess. “Hush, child. Your naivety is both endearing and irritating. Be silent, listen, watch, and all shall be revealed.” Squeezing gently, Freya forced Honey to face Shandy. She could have sworn she’d merely blinked, but in Shandy’s place sat a young boy who looked just as she remembered Shandy when he was very young. The adolescent moved over to stand next to a wall glowing brightly with faerie roses. He faded into it, blending with the flowers and vines. Peering closely, she saw him blink. Honey pointed at him and said, “There.” Chuckling, he stepped forward in his true form, his face that of another man’s—the Green Man’s—handsome, yet his nose, mouth, and even the set of his jaw were that of a different person. The colors and images of the foliage behind him bled out of his body like a fading sunset and the Shandy she knew was gone. “But you’re not the wicked man that everyone portrays you to be, are you?” she asked. “No, I’m none of those things. I am the Green People’s king and nothing more, nor do I take every woman I want and couple with them. Sometimes the men from our city woo mortal women, but only when our blood line grows weak and only women with strong faerie magic in their veins are chosen.” “But you stole my brother. For all these years, you’ve led me—all of us—to believe you were Shandy.” She frowned. “How can you be a king? You’ve been with us all this time.” Releasing her, Freya laughed. “You must open your mind to the possibilities of magic, child.” “I can come and go as I please, Li’l One. Whenever I’d take those long trips for supplies, everything I return with comes from my city and its neighboring Faerie towns. Special things requested by the villagers, your dress material, the village cattle and steeds—everything. The villagers who ask me to fetch a surgeon or pay for a good sword or dagger have no idea that those things come from my people.” “I feel faint,” Honey said, wobbling on her feet. The goddess sat her down in the flower petals and fronds. She lowered herself to the ground next to her and patted Honey’s knee. “I realize this is all so overwhelming, but time is short, and should you waste what valuable moments we have left, Kaedric is certain to take you as his wife. Listen to us, hear us out, and then if you prefer to go home and marry that conceited ox turd, so be it.”

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Honeysuckle and Wild Roses Honey took slow, deep gulps of air. Shandy was the Green Man! And a Fae king! No, he wasn’t even Shandy, he was an imposter, a deceiver. And every time she looked at him her heart leapt with joy. “There is an escape for you,” Freya continued. “You can marry King Roahre.”

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Chapter Seven “You want me to marry Shan—the Green Man?” Honey asked. She realized her mouth was agape again and shut it soundly. Freya reclined against one of her cats. The other lay with its head in her lap, its thunderous purr filling the leafy refuge as the goddess idly scratched behind its massive head. Laughing, Freya replied, “You are the first one to possess as much magic as any of the Fae folk.” “I don’t feel very magical,” Honey said. “It will come all at once,” the goddess said. “And when it does, you will need someone to guide you in how to wield and control it. You are the woman who will unite the Green People with mortals and preserve their bloodline once more. You, Honey, are the one who will convince the deities that humanity—whether it is mortal or Fae—is not lost.” “But if the Green People intermarry with us,” Honey said, frowning, “Their blood line will fade away and blend the two races.” Smiling patiently, Freya sat forward, fixing Honey with a penetrating gaze. “You don’t understand.” She shook her blonde head. “Oh no, your magic, the power within your veins, will be what truly unites our peoples. You are the one finally born who possesses the magic needed to revive the Green People and ultimately all Faerie races. Your union to King Roahre shall show mortals that the Green People are not to be feared.” Glancing at him, Freya chuckled. “After all, Roahre has been trading and bartering for your village for years and no one even realized it. The Green People are the same as mortals, only they possess powerful magic. The Fae make weapons, create lovely cloth, plant and harvest food, and raise livestock…” The goddess shrugged. “I am partial to the Faerie because they are not as quick to judge others as is Man. Your marriage will help your race to realize this.” “Do I not have a choice in this?” Honey asked. The goddess wanted her to make a decision and quickly. She hated how it made her feel unsure and frightened. Anger stirred deep within her and she clasped her hands in her lap, painfully squeezing her fingers to prove that this was real, that Freya and Roahre were solid and not vaporous dreams. “Yes, you have free will. You may exercise your right to refuse Roahre as your husband— and return to marry Kaedric.” “That’s not much of a choice,” said Honey. Every time she thought of Kaedric’s mouth and hands upon her body, despair washed over her. “If I should choose to marry Kaedric, what happens?” She felt the king’s gaze upon her, her skin heating under his scrutiny, shame filling her for she still thought of him as Shandy, her brother. Unable to look at him, she kept her gaze on the goddess. “Will I be punished?” Freya offered her a sympathetic smile. “No—at least not by my hand. But, should you choose not to unite the Green People and Man, there will be war.” “War?” Honey echoed, her heart slamming in her chest. “Is that not punishment enough?” “The Green People will begin stealing women more often in an attempt to capture as much of the magic in your bloodlines as possible. But through you, the race will be invigorated by the children you will bear Roahre. Through you, Mortals will willingly come to the Green People, fall in love and marry. I have seen the future, and without you, there will be more suspicion, more abductions, and neither race will listen to reason. You are the key for the survival of both sides.” “But he’s—”

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Honeysuckle and Wild Roses “Roahre is not your brother. He only wore the guise of Shandy. Your real brother resides with the Green People. He’s happily married to a Fae woman who has born him five children.” Rising to her feet, Freya looked down upon Honey and the king. “Shandy has been aware of you since the day Roahre took him to his city. He sees you through his wife’s magic, and he awaits the day that you, your mother, and your sisters will reunite with him.” “If there will be war, then I truly have no free will.” Honey dropped her gaze to the ground, tears blurring her vision, resentment prickling her soul. “What will be, will be, but it will be through your free choice, child. You can marry Kaedric and be miserable, or you can take Roahre as your husband and love him as you already do.” Surprise settled over Honey and her gaze flew up to meet Freya’s. The goddess laughed and knelt next to her. “Yes, I know that you have loved him since the woman within you began to awaken. Even now, you try not to look at him, feeling shame and confusion. Be at ease and let your heart guide you.” Freya took Honey’s hand and placed a bone rune in her palm, adding, “Take this. Whenever you place it in water, whether a cup or a pond, you will see the city of the Fae as if looking through a window.” Studying the rune which bore Freya’s mark, Honey watched as one of her tears splashed upon it. An image shimmered in her palm, and she saw Shandy—the real Shandy—laughing and tossing a small child into the air. Just as quickly as it had appeared, the pictured faded. She looked up at the goddess and found that Freya and her great cats had vanished too. Looking askance at Roahre, she said, “My head aches.” Laughter rumbled out of him. “Yes, I imagine it does, Li’l One, but know that soon your heart will ache too. You are faced with many hard choices.” “It isn’t fair that I must choose.” “Life is never fair, which is why we’re given choices.” Sighing, Honey ran her fingers through her hair smoothing the wisps and curls back from her face. Her gaze moved over the glowing flora, and she noted how their green haven had returned to its former size now that the goddess was gone. She had actually met and spoken with Freya! Staring at her soft leather boots and simple dress, Honey didn’t feel special or magical. If she didn’t go with Roahre, their peoples would wage war and she’d be unhappily married to Kaedric. If she accepted Roahre, Man and Fae would know peace—but would she? As if sensing her thoughts, Roahre touched her face with the backside of his fingers. His gentle caress brought tears to Honey’s eyes. The soul ache brimmed over and fell into her lap, creating dark spotted patterns on her light brown skirts. “You do have a choice,” he stated. She shook her head, hearing the worry and hope in his voice. “I do not. I’m the key to melding our races, to reviving the magic of the Fae.” Sniffing, she kept her gaze averted. “I mourn my brother. All this time…” “You will see him again.” “It’s not the same. He’s not the same. You were my brother and now you’re not. You’re,” she finally met his ethereal eyes, “a king—and an imposter.” “What does your heart tell you?” he whispered. Her lower lip trembled and she bit it. Finally, she gained control of her emotions and said, “I cannot hear it for the pain inside is too loud.” “Do you not love me?” asked Roahre. “Yes.”

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Honeysuckle and Wild Roses “I am the same man, Honey.” Roahre threaded his fingers into her hair. “I may have taken Shandy’s name, his form, but I am the one who has shared your dreams and laughed and joked with you. I am still the man who whiled away many evening hours with you in your mother’s flower garden, discussing books, life, and even swapping village gossip.” His fingers stroked the back of her head, calming her. “Am I not the man who has been in your dreams, loving you, touching you?” “Yes,” she whispered as revelations swirled through her. “You are the same.” He leaned over, brushing his lips across hers. “And when you choose what path you shall follow, I’ll still be that same man.” She stared into his eyes, eyes so green they truly looked like two glittering emeralds. Honey saw his soul in their depths, bright, strong and filled with love for her. His intentions had been— and still were—sincere, and although he loved her, he cherished his people too. She knew she could return to her mother and sisters and marry Kaedric, forcing Roahre to accept her decision. If she became Roahre’s wife, his queen, she would be readily received by the Green People, but her own family would have to decide if they would follow her. Some of her sisters would understand her decision, but some would not. One thing was sure. Her mother would be wroth and blame her for their continued poverty. He touched her, brushing his fingers through her hair, and a blush heated her entire body. “Ever since the woman began to stir within you, you’ve sensed who I am,” Roahre said, amusement in his voice. “Why else would you blush whenever I touched you?” The heat in Honey’s cheeks flared hotter and she looked away. Idly, she plucked rose petals out of the ferns strewn across the ground. She sighed, fighting the emotion bubbling inside her. “I’ve—I’ve been dreaming of you for the past year.” “I know. I gave you those dreams. I wanted you to yearn for me, to love me.” “I do love you,” she said so softly she almost didn’t hear herself. “But…” “But you think of me as your brother.” Frowning, she nodded. “Why did you steal my brother? Could you not find a better way?” Honey met his vivid eyes, but glanced away when the desire she felt for him sent another ripple of shame through her. The Green Man placed two fingers beneath her chin and tipped her head up, forcing her to look at him. “There is much to tell you, much that you must learn. However, I will not take you as mine unless you truly want to be part of me.” “I can’t because you’ve already found a woman to wife. You told me this when we rode into the Great Wood.” His laughter made Honey think of summer rain and warm breezes. “Li’l One, you are that woman.” “Oh.” She dropped her gaze, feeling foolish, her embarrassment growing to the size of one of the great trees surrounding them. “Shall I call you King Roahre? I can’t very well call you Shandy any longer, can I?” “Roahre is fine,” he answered. “Or my love.” Staring at him, Honey struggled to grasp her situation, to comprehend the sudden, unexpected changes in her life. “What have I done to cause all this?” He touched her face, trailing one finger along her jawline, mesmerizing her with the intensity of his eyes. “You’ve done nothing, my love. Nothing except to be born special and win my heart.” Sighing, Honey felt the tension bleed from her body, her heart thrilling at his touch.

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Honeysuckle and Wild Roses “Has the clamor within your soul quieted?” he asked. She nodded. “I shall be your wife, your queen.”

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Chapter Eight An enormous and joyous smile lit up his entire face. Roahre’s finger moved to her throat, tracing the line of her neck down to the shallow vee of her dress. An intense need bloomed in Honey’s loins and she caught her breath, her heart accelerating. Meeting Roahre’s emerald gaze, she saw that same heat flame to life in his eyes. Transfixed, she watched as he leaned towards her, his gaze unwavering. His mouth met hers, joining tentatively like a butterfly dancing upon her lips and tasting the sweet honeysuckle she’d been named after. A force rose within her body, startling her. Her limbs tingled and her mind buzzed with pure sensation. A flash permeated her closed eyelids, and with a gasp, she broke the kiss, falling backwards. “Fear not, Li’l One,” Roahre said. “You saw only the power of our souls uniting.” “What do you mean?” She glanced about wildly, wondering what could have caused such a powerful light. “That glow came from the magic within our souls. We are destined to be together.” Still frightened but curious, Honey sat forward, heart thundering, and offered him her lips again. He chuckled and captured them in a deeper, hungrier kiss. The world spun, and Honey let him pull her into his arms. His fingers threaded deeply into her hair and he wrapped his other arm around her shoulders. The aroma of cinnamon, cloves and his unique maleness enveloped her, intoxicating her with its headiness. Sighing, she melted into him, pressing closer, her blood pounding in her ears and her heart crashing against her breasts. His tongue slipped between her lips, and delicately, as if tasting a new treat, the tip of it met hers. A soft moan escaped Honey, and the fire licking throughout her body burst into an inferno, consuming her with its intensity. She desired his naked body pressed against hers, wanting him to touch her, to claim her as his own. His kiss seared her soul, and the spicy aroma of his body disoriented her. She felt as if she were adrift in the clouds looking down on her limp body. Reason permeated the haze in her brain. Shame returned, roaring through her form like an angry wind. She stiffened, pushing against his chest. “No,” she said. “Shan—Roahre, this isn’t right.” He sat back slightly, his heated gaze meeting hers. “I’m sorry. It’s just that…” “I understand. You still think of me as your brother.” Honey nodded. “It will pass.” He caressed her cheek with the backside of his fingers. “Trust me, Li’l One.” With her heart beating so hard she thought it would rip through her breast, Honey nodded. Roahre pulled her into his lap, his mouth claiming hers again. Elation and fear of the unknown flowed through her soul. She parted her lips, allowing him access, their tongues dueling. A moan escaped her and she pressed closer to his body, melting into him.. Carefully, maddeningly, he disrobed her. She lay upon the bed of ferns, feeling shy, but when she saw his appreciative gaze wander over her young, nubile body, she realized just how desirable he found her, and she reveled in that knowledge. He shrugged out of his tunic and removed his boots. Realizing that the dreams of her special lover had finally come to pass, Honey watched the muscles work in his arms and back as he struggled out of his trousers. His pale verdant skin and Fae features only made him that much more handsome. He glanced over his shoulder at her, his elongated eyes blazing with sexuality,

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Honeysuckle and Wild Roses his slightly pointed ears poking through his white-blonde hair. Roahre turned towards her, his cock proud and eager. Anticipation of their union flashed through her body, leaving Honey strangely breathless. Roahre lay down beside her and gently pressed her nude body against his. Somewhere deep inside, Honey felt the magic stir that had been lying dormant for so long. She felt as if lightning coursed through her body, her heart beating so hard she felt faint. As was the custom for many living in and amongst the Great Wood, Honey tugged several strands of hair from her head, twisting them into a tight, thin band and wrapped them around the middle finger of Roahre’s left hand. “You are now my husband,” she said, her heart pounding harder still and she knew there was no turning back. “My king,” she added, realizing she was becoming more than just Roahre’s wife. Parting her legs, Roahre kneeled between her thighs, pulling her hips upwards so that the tip of his cock barely touched her hot, swollen mound. He ran his palms over her breasts and along her sides. He clasped her hips, making Honey sigh with longing, her most intimate spot tingling with sensation. “Fear not, my love,” he said softly. “I will seal our marriage quickly. Then, I shall show you the delights of our bodies.” Her gaze moved to the pale strands of her hair still wrapped around his finger and up over the planes of his belly and chest to meet his gaze again. With her blood thundering through her veins like a raging Valkyrie, her heart banging against her ribs, Honey nodded. In a quick, fluid motion, Roahre pierced her body. Something ripped deep inside her, the pain piercing, searing. She cried out, and her eyes widened. “You are now my wife,” he said, his eyes hooded with desire, a slight glow emanating from them. “You are now my queen, who shall rule by my side for our entire life together.” A delightful ache erupted within Honey. He was about to withdraw from her body, but she wriggled her ass against his lap, desiring more of him. Roahre groaned, gripping her hips tighter. “Love me,” she gasped, holding out her arms as she looked up at him. Taking her by the wrists, he lifted her from the ferns so that she sat in his lap, his cock slipping deeper within her body. Honey crossed her ankles behind him, reveling in the feeling of their joined bodies, her breasts pressed tightly against his hot skin. “I have,” he closed his eyes, composing himself, “waited so long to have you.” Instinctively, Honey moved against him, urging a deep growl from Roahre’s throat. He slid his hands along her sides and squeezed the cheeks of her ass. Slowly, he moved her upwards and slightly back again and again. Gasping, Honey let her head fall back, but cried out in ecstasy when his mouth latched onto a nipple, his tongue flicking the hard, erect peak. “Roahre,” she whispered. He shifted, straightening his legs so that they were slightly bent at the knees, his cock nudging the opening to her womb. “Oh!” She wrapped her arms around his neck, nestling her head against his shoulder. “Did I hurt you?” She shook her head slightly. “No, the feeling is…so overwhelming.” Chuckling gently, Roahre moved her hips more quickly. She met each of his thrusts, moaning each moment his cock bumped against her deepest recesses. Tightness began building within her, and, moving faster, harder, she reached for a seemingly unattainable release. Their gazes locked, and Honey uttered a startled gasp as Roahre’s eyes began glowing brighter and

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Honeysuckle and Wild Roses shimmers of pale green light swirled across his skin. Although startled, the sensation within her continued to grow, urging her higher and higher. She looked down at their joined bodies, at her pale blonde mound pressed tightly against his loins, her ample breasts swaying slightly as they moved their bodies rhythmically, seeking release. White sparkles danced across her skin, melding and swirling with the green shimmers skittering along his body. Her gaze flew up to meet his. “It’s our magic, my love,” he gasped. “Let it happen.” He moved her hips harder, plunging deeply into her core. Honey whimpered and gave in to the delirious sensations. She rode her husband like a steed between her legs, the tightness in her loins sending her to spectacular heights. Her breasts began tingling, and when Roahre’s mouth claimed the other one this time, the thunder and power crested within Honey, shattering her world. She gasped as a bright flash filled their foliage cave, but as the waves of delightful sensation washed through her, she rode him faster, urging him to spill his seed. Roahre cried out, his body stiffening. He crushed her to him, and she felt the hot warmth of his life fluid splash against her womb, filling her up. Wave after wave of pleasure rippled through Honey. She lay back, allowing him to coax free the last few drops of his essence. He leaned forward, collapsing upon her body, their heavy breathing as one.

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PART TWO Beautiful Freya watches closely. Her power has been exercised, her deceit unknown...

Even a goddess can be a bitch.

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Chapter Nine The next morning, Honey gave up trying to get her mother to answer her. Amberon sat in a hand-carved rocker, staring through the window dressings with unseeing eyes. Light poured through the fabric and dappled the hardwood floor with pale ovals. Colorful streamers and cloth lanterns decorated the rafters. Bouquets of garden flowers woven into chains hung draped from table edges and over doorways. Honey could see a huge feast laid out on the table in the special meal room, the half-eaten roasted ducks on a platter in the table’s center. Next to the hearth, Zoirah and Penelope sat with mending projects in their laps. They gaped at Roahre, their sewing forgotten. From upstairs, Honey heard faint stirrings and muffled footsteps as her other sisters prepared to come down for breakfast and early morning chores. Slowly, Amberon stood and angrily swiped at the tears wetting her cheeks. “Mother?” said Honey. “Please, talk to us.” “I have nothing to say to you, daughter,” Amberon replied, her voice strained. “You worry me to death, and finally, near dawn, you show up with this…” she shot Roahre a baleful look, “this changeling, this…this wretched imposter! And you expect me to be grateful? You even missed your birthday celebration! We’ve all worked so hard for days to give you a special dinner—but it’s all for naught!” She snatched a cup from a stand and flung it against the hearthstones. The vessel popped apart in three pieces, and Penelope uttered a startled cry. Tea splattered the hearth, dripping on the floor. “What will I say to Jorgus?” Amberon railed. “To Kaedric? How will I pay Jorgus back what I have already spent?” “Mother, please!” Honey took a step towards her, but her husband put a gentle hand upon her shoulder. “Now both my oldest and my youngest are gone from me.” Amberon walked over to the hearth, her skirts whispering like spirit voices, and busied herself with adding logs to the fire. She stirred and stoked, as if tending the fire kept her anger under control. “I realize now that my intuition and speculation have been correct all along,” she said, her words so quiet that they carried the effect of a stinging slap. She didn’t turn around, but continued jabbing at the glowing bed of coals. “King Roahre, you stole my son and allowed me to believe that you had returned Shandy after I had completed my end of the bargain. I made your magical wreaths of wild roses! I kept my word! But it was all a lie—an ugly, monstrous deception!” “Why would you choose to be with him, Honey?” Maybelle asked. A lump lodged in Honey’s throat. Struggling to answer, words escaped her and hot tears spilled down her cheeks. Amberon turned, facing them. She pointed at Roahre and shrieked, “Because he is in her blood!” “Go get your things,” Roahre said gently and placed a comforting hand upon the small of Honey’s back. “I shall wait outside for you.” “I’m sorry, Mother.” The knot in Honey’s throat threatened to suffocate her. Tears clouded her vision. Looking through them, she ascended the stairs, her skirts brushing the flower chains wrapped around the banister poles. In their shared bedroom, Ishen and Bella questioned Honey, but she couldn’t answer through her sobs. Once she had gathered her best dress and dearest keepsakes, she returned downstairs with her sisters trailing behind her. Cries of dismay and anguish filled the living area as Zoirah and Penelope relayed the morning’s events.

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Honeysuckle and Wild Roses Remembering the rune, Honey pulled it from her skirt pocket. She looked down at the bone piece, Freya’s mark stark against its ivory color. Two tears splashed into the palm of her hand, wetting the rune. Callan peered into her sister’s hand and gasped; the others gathered round to see. “Mother,” Honey croaked miserably. “I can show you Shandy.” “’Tis true, Mother,” Ishen said in awe. The others echoed her statement. Looking into her palm, Honey saw Shandy sitting in a flowering courtyard, reading aloud to a small gathering of fair-haired children. He turned a page in a leather bound book and resumed reading. The dim, ethereal light glimmered in his pale hair and dimples appeared on either side of his mouth whenever he smiled. “I do not want to see more Faerie glamour,” Amberon snarled from her spot at the hearth. “Be gone from me, traitorous daughter!” Everyone except Amberon followed Honey outside where Roahre waited for her. They gathered on the stoop, watching as he helped Honey astride her horse and fastened her belongings across the animal’s rump. Glumly, she looked at her sisters, some fair like her mother, some dark like their father, their rough dresses in various hues of green, blue or brown, their hair bound, braided or twisted on their heads, tears streaming down their pink cheeks. “Please stay with us, Honey,” Bella said, her voice thick with tears. “You know nothing of that changeling or his people!” “I know more than you could ever understand, dear sister,” Honey replied, wiping moisture from her cheeks. “He has been in my dreams and I love him.” “But he stole our brother!” Callan pointed an accusing finger at Roahre. “You’ve all just seen Shandy in Freya’s rune,” Honey said, “and he is quite happy. You have a marriage sister now too, and several nieces and nephews that you shall never know if you do not open your minds…and your hearts.” She drew in a deep, calming breath. “I could not face a lifetime with Kaedric, especially when I do not love him.” “Well said, my love,” Roarhe whispered at her side. He squeezed her knee, and turned, walking over to his Fae steed. He swung up into the saddle and picked up the reins. “What will mother do?” Ishen cried. “She has already paid some of our debts with your marriage coin. Now she owes Jorgus too.” “Here,” Roahre said, rummaging in a saddlebag. He produced a leather pouch and tossed it to Ishen. It landed in Ishen’s hands and the clink and rattle of money rang out on the morning breeze. “There should be enough to pay Jorgus back and some left over to help you with your remaining debts and needs.” Ishen smiled her thanks. “What shall we say when Jorgus and Kaedric arrive within the hour for the wedding?” Honey snorted in disgust. “Tell them that I love another and ran off to marry him, then give them their money back.” “Wait!” Turning, Honey saw Zoirah step away from her sisters. Lowering her voice, Zoirah asked, “What about Nero?” Honey watched as her sister’s worried gaze moved from her to Roahre and back again. She glanced at her husband, sending him a pleading look. “I made you a promise, Zoirah,” Roahre answered. “I intend to keep it.” A weak smile touched Zoirah’s lips. “Thank you Shan—Roahre.”

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Honeysuckle and Wild Roses “Come with us.” Reaching out, Honey stroked a curl back from her sister’s face. “Forget Nero and his deception and come with us to live with the Green People.” “I—I can’t, Honey.” Her sister glanced back at their siblings still gathered on the front stoop. “I’m the oldest now, so I must remain here to help mother and see that our sisters are well.” “I’ll miss you the most,” Honey said, fighting tears again. “And I will miss you, Li’l One.” Laughing, Zoirah added, “Queen Honey Bee.” A chuckle escaped Honey, and she touched Zoirah’s cheek one last time.

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Chapter Ten The air shimmered around Roahre. Watching in fascination, Honey saw him transform into Shandy again. With a roguish grin, he glanced at her over his shoulder. Green lights of various hues swirled about his body, and like the ripple from a pebble tossed into placid water, the air shifted and the sparkles disappeared. Her green-eyed brother smiled at her. With a sigh, Honey wondered if she’d ever grow accustomed to witnessing such magical displays. Worse yet, would she be able to cope with her own magic when it finally became more than faint tremors within her soul? They stopped at Didgi’s Tavern, which Nero was known to haunt regularly each night. Waiting outside, Honey watched the smoke twist from the tavern’s soot-stained chimney. Heavy of heart, she wished that Zoirah had come with them. Sighing, she knew her sister had done the right thing by staying behind. “Nero is not there,” Roahre said as he shut the big oaken door and strode across the dirt yard. “Now what do we do? Zoirah’s reputation is at stake.” “The barmaid told me that Nero was here last night bragging about a stag seen at the edge of the woods and how he was going to kill it. Perhaps we will stumble upon him as we travel through the Great Wood.” Putting his foot in the stirrup, Roahre swung himself up into the saddle. “If we don’t find him soon, I will return and hunt him down.” They left the village, riding side by side into the wide, rippling verdant meadow. As they traversed through the tall grasses, the morning transformed into the brighter hours of early afternoon. Approaching the esoteric forest, Honey thought she saw a stag leap into its dark recesses. She squinted, hoping for another glimpse of it. Perhaps Nero was nearby after all. Ahead, the snort of another horse reached them. A bay steed emerged, and looking closer, Honey saw Nero riding it, a longbow strapped to his back and a quiver of arrows fastened to the saddle. Roahre nudged his steed forward and galloped it the remaining distance. Following more slowly, Honey heard their angry voices before she even reached them. “Zoirah was not pure,” Nero said, a sneer upon his rugged face. His dark eyes gleamed. “I shall not take an impure woman to wife.” “You were heard bragging at Didgi’s Tavern about your plans to disgrace Zoirah and her family,” said Roarhe. “So what if I was?” Glancing at Honey, Nero returned his attention to Roahre. A smug smile parted his thick, black mustache. “Your sisters are whores, Shandy. They are known for going into Widow Keera’s home. Only women of ill repute go there.” “We go there to borrow books from the widow’s library!” Honey said, anger ripping through her body. “Regardless,” Nero said, ignoring Honey, “I will not marry Zoirah. She no longer pleases me.” Stiffening in the saddle, Roarhe leaned towards Nero. “You will marry her, and you will be a good husband.” Seeing the odd light in her husband’s eyes, Honey experienced a moment of unease. Movement at the edge of the woods drew her attention and she gasped. Nero met Honey’s startled gaze, and with a perplexed frown, he twisted in the saddle to look behind him. “By the gods!” he barked, struggling to pull his longbow over his shoulders.

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Honeysuckle and Wild Roses A stag bounded from out of the forest. Its majestic head bore thick, sprawling antlers upon a sleek, muscled neck. The beast’s size left Honey speechless, and as it closed the distance between them, its hoofbeats fell heavily upon the meadow floor. The stag leapt into the air and smashed into Nero, knocking him out of the saddle. A whinny burst from his horse; it shied away, high stepping towards the edge of the forest. Nero hit the ground, the impact hollow and dull. He uttered a startled “oomph!” and the air whooshed out of his lungs. The creature landed agilely and reared, its great, antlered head held proudly, sunshine gleaming on its tines. It thrashed its forelegs in the air, and snorting, it brought its cloven hooves down on the man’s chest—and stood still, pinning him firmly. “Sh—Shandy, help me!” Nero whispered from his place in the tall grass. His eyes bulged in their sockets, the dark irises looking like black pebbles pinned upon boiled eggs. “Silence!” the stag said, its brown eyes gleaming. The creature lowered its head, its nose a sword’s width from Nero’s face. The stag snorted, the sound reeking of anger and irritation. Honey gaped, and next to her, she heard her husband’s delighted laughter. The stag shook its head, antlers tipping left and right. Light shimmered along the tines, racing over the animal’s head, along its muscled body and slim, powerful legs. In a bright flash, the stag disappeared and Freya stood with her massive boot holding Nero to the ground. “You worthless dog,” the goddess hissed. “How dare you insult the queen’s people!” She shifted her weight forward, and Nero groaned in pain. “You are not worthy of such a woman as Zoirah, and because you have uttered false words against her, causing such unwarranted heartache, you shall not speak again until you are able to force your mouth free.” Kneeling, Freya leaned over and placed a kiss upon Nero’s mouth. He screamed in agony, his limbs thrashing as smoke billowed from around their faces. The odor of seared flesh drifted through the thick meadow grass, and gagging, Honey placed her sleeve over her nose. The goddess sat back on her heels, regarding Nero for a moment in satisfaction. Standing, she turned and looked at Honey. “Welcome to the world of the Faerie, young queen. All will be well. You shall see. Zoirah will meet someone special, someone who will love her for the valiant heart that beats beneath her ample bosom.” She looked at Roarhe. “Your kingship, I bid you farewell for now. Love your wife and treat her wisely.” White lights swirled around the goddess’s body, and with a rush of wild wind and a rumble of thunder, she disappeared. Slowly, whimpering in pain and fear, Nero rose to his feet. He staggered, his hands flying to the place his mouth had once resided. Honey clapped one hand over her own mouth, stifling her cry of horror and pity. Staring up at them, his dark eyes full of fear and bewilderment, Nero said, “Mmmph!” He clawed at the angry red slash sealing his lips together in a mass of melted scar tissue. “Mmmph!” he cried from deep within his throat. “Oh, Roahre!” Honey said, her gaze riveted on the mass of burned flesh. “Look away, Honey,” her husband said. “Freya has judged, and we must let it be so, or we shall face the consequences.” “But—” “Zoirah has been avenged, and my promise has been fulfilled.” They rode on, leaving Nero behind them, but Honey couldn’t look away. She turned in the saddle, watching as Nero clawed at his face, blood dripping. He ran in circles, hysteria claiming him, his muffled cries growing more distraught with each passing moment. The man tripped, falling hard on the ground disappearing for a moment in the tall grass and wildflowers before

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Honeysuckle and Wild Roses struggling to his feet again. He stumbled towards his horse and fell against its sides, weeping harshly. Facing forward, Honey wiped angrily at the saltiness trailing her cheeks. “My queen has sympathy regardless of Nero’s sin,” Roahre stated as her horse caught up with his. “Shall you have sympathy for Kaedric as well?” “No, husband,” she said sullenly. “I care not for Kaedric or Nero, but I do have compassion for my fellow man.” “You must guard your heart, my love. If you do not, evil will notice your compassion and use it against you.” “How is compassion a weakness?” she asked, her lower lip trembling. “It makes you vulnerable,” he replied. “And I won’t always be able to protect you.” They rode in silence, and the gloom of the forest deepened. Noticing the honeysuckle bower where they had cut her namesake, she glanced around, watching familiar landmarks fade and hearing unusual sounds the deeper they rode into the ancient wood. “Where are we?” she asked, realizing she’d whispered her words. “In the magic realm,” her husband said. “The Fae rarely go beyond the honeysuckle bower.” “Why?” “Because mortals frequent the perimeters of the forest.” “I’m a mortal.” “Not really.” She looked over at Roahre and found him watching her closely. “What do you mean?” “You’re a direct descendent of the Green People. That means you’ll live much longer than most mortals.” “How much longer?” He smiled fondly. “I have no clue, but I’m going to enjoy every moment of our lives together.” The time passed, and finally, Honey asked, “Can we stop and rest? My backside is numb.” A deep chuckle rumbled out of Roahre’s chest. “I have a better idea,” he said. “Oh?” He reigned in his horse, and Honey’s steed halted. Holding his arms out to her, he said, “Come here.” “Climb over to your horse?” He nodded. Leaning over, she allowed Roahre to clasp her by her waist. He pulled her over to his horse, effortlessly depositing her in his lap so that she faced him. The air shimmered around him, and soon, Shandy’s face was gone, and Roahr’s stared back at her. “What are you doing?” she asked. “I’m going to make love to you.” Her eyes widened. “Here? On your horse?” Laughing, Roahre nuzzled her neck. “Yes, here on my horse.” “But—” Her thoughts scattered when her husband claimed her mouth with his. “Someone might chance upon us,” she gasped when he finally released her lips. Roahre tugged at her skirts, pulling the rough fabric up her silky, pale thighs. “Not here,” he said, his breath hot and heavy against her bosom. He rooted against her breasts like a babe searching for his milk. “We’re too deeply in the forest. No one will chance coming this far.”

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Honeysuckle and Wild Roses The horse stomped a hoof in impatience. Startled, Honey grabbed at her husband, and he took the opportunity to move her back slightly to free his eager cock from his trousers. His hand found its way to her undergarment and nestled against her crotch. “You’re wet,” Roahre murmured as he trailed kisses from her bosom to the base of her throat. “Let me see just how wet you are…” A whimper escaped her as he pulled her undergarment free and lifted her slightly. He pierced her body with his hardness, filling her up and nudging her innermost spot. Honey wrapped her arms around his neck, allowing him to set the pace of their bodies. With no place to put her feet and brace herself, she succumbed to Roahre’s wandering hands and the sensations he stirred within her. Leaning back slightly, she met her husband’s gaze. The emerald vividness of his eyes glowed and grew brighter with each of his thrusts. He worked his hips beneath her, urging the tightness within Honey to reach incredible heights. “Please,” she whispered, his gaze holding her captive, his cock bumping a spot inside her that felt both delicious and maddening. “Please what?” he said, the glow in his eyes intensifying even more. “I want to touch the heavens again,” Honey gasped. “And we shall.” He smiled and closed his eyes, his hips moving faster. Honey sighed, her breath quickening. Fire licked her insides, swirling through her abdomen and down her arms and legs. Her breasts and toes tingled, and she felt the wet, slippery folds of her body release fluids as she neared that intensely beautiful place that only Roahre could send her to. As he rocked her hips, the saddle horn bumped against her ass and the leather beneath them creaked. The Fae steed swayed under their rhythmic bodies, its impatient snorts punctuating the quiet forest. The aroma of honeysuckle overwhelmed Honey’s senses and she realized the odor stemmed from her. The closer she reached the door to the heavens, the more intense the sweet scent of honeysuckle became. “By Freya’s power—your scent is intoxicating,” Roahre gasped. “It makes me feel as though I’ve drank too much wine.” He pulled her bodice lower. Stitches in the fabric snapped, and he snuggled his face into her cleavage, inhaling deeply. His tongue caressed the swell of her bosoms, and Honey arched her back. He uttered a pleasured noise, his body stiffening. Feeling his cock begin to pulse within her, Honey’s body reached the highest point of sensation. She clasped Roahre’s shoulders, her fingers biting into his tunic. Green and white sparkles twirled around them as if they’d fallen into a magical vortex. The shimmering lights danced upon the horse, trailed upon their bodies, and rained upon the ground like a grinder’s sparks. Roahre grunted, his hands moving her hips harder, the head of his cock rubbing her womb more intensely. Crying out, the dam burst inside Honey. Wave after wave of throbbing, pulsating sensation crashed throughout her body. Her insides clenched and fluids seeped from her swollen mound. A satisfied sound, followed by a throaty, guttural cry erupted from her husband. His head tipped back and his expression tensed as he spewed his seed into her womb. Honey felt the spurts of hot life fluid fill her deepest place and shuddered with tiny aftershocks of sensation. He moved her hips slightly, coaxing the last bit of seed from his cock, his breathing ragged. Finally, his body began to relax, and he wrapped his arms around Honey, drawing her close.

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Chapter Eleven “I have loved you for so long,” Roahre whispered into her hair. She snuggled closer to him, inhaling his curious aroma of spices. “You make me feel…” She sighed. “There are no words to describe it.” Chuckling, he hugged her. “Trust me, my love. I truly understand.” Raising her, he slid out of her velvetness and adjusted his trousers. “How about a rest? I have dried fruit, cheese, and a bit of moonbeam wine in my saddlebags.” “Mmmm…” Honey smiled languidly. “I am hungry. You’ve given me quite an appetite.” He grinned at her, his emerald eyes mischievous, and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead before helping her swing her legs over the side of the horse. Slowly, he lowered her to the ground. Honey pulled up her skirts and re-tied her undergarment while Roahre took the food and wine from the saddlebags. He shrugged off his outer tunic and spread it on a leafy area where they could relax and dine. “Come, Honey,” he said, motioning her over to him. “Let us eat and rest, then we’ll be on our way to your new home.” Roahre untied a bladder flask and positioned it so it wouldn’t spill their wine. He cut her several slices of hard, rich orange cheese and laid a cloth full of dried apples, peaches, dates, and pomegranates next to the wine skin. They sat eating quietly. “You’re deep in thought,” he said. She looked up to find his intense gaze upon her. “Something troubling you?” “I…” “You are my love, my wife, and my queen. Do not fear telling me things.” Taking a deep breath, Honey let it out slowly and said, “I just don’t understand why you stole my brother and lied to Mother. Why couldn’t you have just been honest with her? Tell her the truth?” “What your mother did and said this morning is why,” Roahre replied. “It was easier to wait until you were of age to make your own decision about me. As for your brother, he has much magic within him too. Honey looked sharply at him. “His is not as strong as yours, but it’s strong enough that Shandy is capable of wielding a few spells and passing the strength of its essence to the Green People. I have seen the power in his children. It makes me happy that our race is growing and strengthening its magic through him.” “It is wrong to steal a child.” Her heart thundered in her chest, but she had to be honest, had to tell him how she felt. “Mother mourned him for days, and you made her believe that you were Shandy only to reveal later that she had been tricked.” “You are right, my love.” Roahre leaned over and placed one hand over hers folded in her lap. “There’s one thing you must remember. I am a king who must do what is best for his people, and although that may not make what I have done—or what others of my people have done— right, we must still protect ourselves and ensure our future. It’s like being on a battlefield.” “Battlefield?” He nodded. “What does a commander do when faced with protecting one man or one thousand men?” “He sacrifices the one to save a thousand?”

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Honeysuckle and Wild Roses “Yes.” “My mind comprehends, husband, but that does not mean my heart understands.” Roahre squeezed her hand. “Do not allow this to come between us, my love.” “I have much to learn and adjust to, but in order to do so, I need to know more.” “Such as?” “If you are a king, then you must be with your people to handle matters and see that all is well in your realm, yes?” He nodded. “Then how could you grow up with me and my sisters?” Dread settled in Honey’s stomach as if she’d swallowed a hard, cold wedge of iron. She searched her husband’s eyes, but all she saw was sincerity and…worry. “How could you be with us, watching me and my sisters grow into the women we are now, and yet rule your kingdom as a king should?” A pained expression crossed Roahre’s handsome face, and she noticed the ethereal light in his eyes had dimmed. “Please,” she said. “I must know the truth.” His gaze moved from hers to a spot in the forest behind her. He swallowed, and replied, “Changelings and glamour, but mostly it was glamour.” “You cast a spell upon us?” she whispered, a pain skewering her heart. “My memories—the memories of the entire family are…a lie?” Hesitantly, Roahre nodded. “Yes.” “How—how could you do such a vile thing?” “The need of my people was more important.” A cool sheen of sweat broke out across Honey’s body as she contemplated her husband’s words. She stared at a decaying stump a few feet away, her gaze following a vine of honeysuckle that wound its way up its coarse structure. Closing her eyes, she willed the disbelief and hurt away, but it remained like a dark wine stain upon a rare, delicate fabric. “Mother was right,” she said. “My love, the Green People needed you, still need you. Our goddess told you the very same. You are the key to restoring magic to the Fae.” He moved towards her, avoiding the food and the wine bladder in the center of the tunic. Kneeling, he placed his hands on her upper arms, looking deeply into her eyes. “I have loved you for so long. I will always love you, but you must realize that I have to do what is right for my people. Lives depend upon me.” “I know that, Roahre,” Honey said quietly, her throat tightening with emotion. She blinked back angry tears. “But now, I somehow feel as though I married into a lie. You didn’t tell me the whole truth when you should have.” “Nor did you ask,” he said. She took a deep breath, adding, “Despite the shock of finding out you weren’t my brother, despite the odd feelings of loving a brother who really wasn’t my brother after all, I followed my heart. I married you based on what my dreams told me, what my heart wanted.” Honey felt the tears spill from her eyes and hated her weakness. “You said you gave me those dreams. Were those a lie too?” He caught her tears upon his palm and flung them into the air. A shimmer transformed the moisture into butterflies that fluttered around her head, landing in her pale hair, fanning their iridescent wings. “My magic is real,” Roahre answered, his voice filled with anxiety. “If I could not have you until it was the correct time, then I could show you what I desired until that moment arrived.

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Honeysuckle and Wild Roses Your dreams were still dreams, but they were mine too. Through those magical dreams, we shared one another, loved one another.” “I feel so...” “Tell me what you feel. Share it with me.” She stared deeply into his eyes, willing him to see her thoughts and emotions. “I’m angry with you and I feel betrayed.” He leaned forward, kissing her trembling lip. “What does your heart tell you?” “It tells me…” She continued gazing into his eyes and knew that regardless of the situation, she loved Roahre. Honey knew she was young, inexperienced, and naïve in many ways, but she also knew her heart was tied for all eternity to the man kneeling before her. She took another deep, shuddering breath. “It tells me that I’ll always love you,” she answered. Roahre kissed her again. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into his lap, deepening the kiss, their tongues dancing to a rhythm that urged them to tug at clothes, their hands searching for warm, bare skin. He helped her unfasten and struggle out of her dress and undergarment. Roahre stood, disrobing in front of Honey. Her gaze wandered over the muscles moving and flexing beneath his pale verdant skin. He was all male, yet ethereal. Tall and lithe, yet strong and powerful. Pushing his breeches down, his manhood proudly displayed before her, Honey realized that those dreams—their dreams—had come true and she was Roahre’s forever. He kicked his clothing aside and knelt, using one knee to spread her legs. A thrill flew through Honey like a bird soaring to freedom. This man, this king, was hers to love, to enjoy. He would take her to the lofty heights of pleasure obtained not by physical pleasure alone, but the heightened intensity of love and passion. Roahre would one day give her children, offspring of a king and queen, their blood full of magic, thus giving the Fae hope for the future of their race. Although she questioned the manner in which Freya had allowed things to happen, and the way Roahre had played out the goddess’s ruse, Honey knew she had made the right choice in taking him as her husband. She laid back, her breasts tingling with anticipation, her loins throbbing with the need to feel her husband thrusting into her body. “My queen,” Roahre said softly and settled between her thighs. Honey whimpered with impatience, spreading her legs wider, inviting him to pierce her womanhood. His gaze met hers. The weight of his body covered her and the tip of his cock separated the folds of her wet, swollen mound. Raising her hips slightly, Honey wiggled them, enticing him. He shoved into her in one quick, firm movement. Her body eagerly accepted him, and he took her fiercely, his thrusts frantic, as if he was afraid he would never be with her again after this moment. Intense sensation flowed through Honey’s loins, up over her abdomen and into her breasts, the nipples pert with excitement. She moaned loudly, wanting him harder, faster, deeper. Roahre’s ass pumped furiously, and Honey met his every thrust with one of her own. She felt her inner walls grow wetter, the tightness within her core growing and growing… “Please!” she gasped. “Take me there! Now!” Roahre’s frantic movements slowed and changed to hard, forceful thrusts that scooted Honey off his tunic and out onto the leaves. She wrapped her legs around his driving hips, letting her body go lax as he pounded into her again and again. He rolled her over in one quick, easy motion, settling her on top of him. Still, the sensation within her body grew, roiling like an impending thunderstorm. Honey whimpered and moaned. The tops of her feet slapped against the ground, the blanket of leaves beneath them snapping and rustling.

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Honeysuckle and Wild Roses Again, Roahre rolled with her, pinning her beneath his body, piercing her with such intensity that he scooted her across the soft forest soil. The aroma of dry leaves, pine needles and rich, loamy dirt mixed with Honey’s floral scent and her husband’s spiciness. Together, they rolled across the ground, again and again, their hands searching one another’s body. Vaguely, Honey realized that they had crashed through the cheese and fruit, even squeezing the wine out of its bladder as it wet her skin and trickled between her breasts. They tumbled to the base of the tree stump clothed in honeysuckle, and stopped, unable to go any further. Roahre cupped her shoulders and sat back, keeping their bodies joined. “Wrap your arms and legs around me,” he commanded, breathing heavily. Honey did so and squealed in pleasure as he stood up, holding her in his arms, his cock still penetrating her wet mound. He walked to a nearby tree, placing her back against it and drove into her. The rough bark against her back and his cock repeatedly butting the opening to her womb sent her over that seemingly unobtainable edge. She climaxed and her head flew back resting against the tree as she howled her pleasure to the darkening forest. A tingling flood of ecstasy flashed through her loins like wild fire. She wanted to buck against him, but she had to hang on and keep his cock seated deeply within her. Roahre drove harder, his rapid breathing harsh, exerted. He stiffened, and Honey knew he had found his place of release. He shouted his pleasure to the treetops. His cock pulsed deep within her, and she felt the hot splash of his seed coat her insides. Honey saw green and white sparkles shimmer in the air around them, and sensed the new life about to begin within her. *** Roahre gathered their food and empty wine skin. He shook the dirt and leaves from his outer tunic, but stuffed it into the saddlebag since it was saturated with wine from their romp across the leaves. Watching her husband, Honey stood nearby, her nether regions still tingling and throbbing from their passionate lovemaking. He turned, offering her a pleased smile. “Freya has left a gift here for you,” he said. “Oh?” Honey wasn’t sure whether she should be wary or pleased that the goddess had deemed her worthy of a gift, but as Roahre’s grin widened, she soon relaxed. “Well? Where is it?” she asked as a bud of anticipation bloomed within her. “Go around to the other side of that tree. There’s a hole at the base of it.” He tied the flaps on the leather bags and turned, crossing his arms over his chest. Mischief danced in his eyes as he added, “The goddess was certain you’d choose a life with me and my people, and to prove to me that she was right, she put something special in the tree for you.” He nodded, indicating that she should go look. “Go on, my love. See what Freya has bestowed upon you.” Honey walked through the thick layer of leaves and climbed over the monstrous roots protruding from the soft earth. On the other side of the ancient tree, a large hole resided between two roots. Upon hands and knees, Honey peered cautiously inside. She saw something tan and furry. At first, she thought that an animal was looking back at her, but as her eyes adjusted to the dimness inside the hole, she realized it was actually a fur-wrapped package. Gingerly, she pulled it free from its hiding place and brushed small twigs and leaf fragments from it. Cradling it in her arms, she rose and made her way back to the horses where her husband

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Honeysuckle and Wild Roses waited. She stood next to Roahre and pulled the strings of meadow grass free, unwrapping the gift to find a dress fit for a queen—for her. Yards of material the color of a spring sky fell to her feet. Honey gasped in delight. A pair of matching slippers tumbled out and landed in the leaves. In bright embroidery, Freya’s symbols adorned the slipper’s toes, the threads sparkling in the dim lighting. Roahre picked them up, holding them for her so that she could examine the dress. Honey looked back and forth between him and the dress. “I’ve never seen material like this before,” she said softly, fearing that if she spoke too loudly the dress would poof into magic sparkles and disappear upon a forest breeze. “It’s the purest of sky blues, but it has…” She held it up, allowing the light to dance across its silken fibers. “There are rainbow colors dancing upon it when the light is just right. And it’s so soft! It’s almost as if the garment isn’t even there!” “The Goddess had the womenfolk of the Dwarves spin its fibers. A little of Freya’s magic went into the color, and the Elven women sewed it together.” He smiled. “Do you like it?” “It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen!” “It is your queenly gown. The gown you shall hold court in and for when you meet your new people.” “How will I ever thank Freya?” Honey asked, feeling overwhelmed; her legs even shook beneath her. “Rule as a queen should,” Roahre replied.

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Chapter Twelve The Green People accepted Honey, for after all, she was part of them. Yet, with each passing day, Honey missed her mother and sisters more and more, especially Zoirah. Her heart ached to hear Maybelle’s off-key singing in the early morning hours as she gathered eggs in the chicken coup, and she pined for Ishen’s lovely yeast rolls with the sugar beetle paste spooned on their golden tops. She wanted to chat with her sisters about their latest love interests and listen to her mother read to them by the hearth each night. “Let us travel to the other side of these woods and visit my family,” Honey said one evening. “Perhaps Mother’s heart has softened toward us by now.” Her brother, who had taken the Fae name of Shai, looked up from his seat at the window. Through the window behind him, Honey could see the city lights and courtyard fires winking in the dim illumination that signaled the end of the day; she sighed, knowing the year of unceasing night was soon to begin. “I do not think a trip is wise right now,” Shai said. “You should wait until the seasons change so that you are whole again.” Roahre’s hand stroked the silk stretched over his wife’s distended stomach “I agree with your brother, my love.” “Oh, can’t we go visit for just a couple days?” Honey sat up, regarding Roahre with her most pleading expression. “I can think of nothing but my sisters and Mother.” “You are carrying our child, Honey,” her husband replied gently. “I don’t want to risk traveling with you through the treacherous parts of the forest in your condition.” “Liar,” she said, her tone half irritated and half amused. “You want no confrontation with my mother because of your lie about the real Shandy.” He sighed and pulled her down against him on the large, cushioned chair. “You and Shai may have re-united, but Amberon will not be so forgiving. I cannot restore the years of his life that I stole from her.” “Eventually, Mother will understand.” Honey blinked up at him, hoping her pleading look would win him over. “I’m sure she will.” “Ah, not so, my love,” he rumbled. “I’ve committed an unforgivable sin by stealing not one of her children, but two.” “You didn’t steal me.” “He’s the Green Man,” Shai said. He stood and placed his wine goblet on an ornate table. “You’ve heard all the legends and tales. The Green Man is a treacherous, cruel man.” His laughter rang out in their chamber. Honey shot her brother a disgruntled look. “You’re not helping my plea one bit,” she said. Shai strode across their bedchamber. His green robe and tunic gleamed brightly in the faerie orbs used for lighting, his platinum hair alight with silver hues. Stooping, he kissed Honey’s cheek and said, “You already know that I love you, dear sister. I think you should stay until the wee one is born, but it’s not my place to argue with you.” He laughed again, the sound rich and very much male. It still seemed odd to Honey to see her brother in the same form that Roahre had used for his glamour. “I shall retire and talk to you tomorrow, little sister. I want to tuck my children in before they fall asleep.” “Good night, brother,” Honey said, smiling up at him. “Send them my blessings, and tell Asray I want to see that lovely shawl when she has finished sewing it.”

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Honeysuckle and Wild Roses “I will,” Shai said, pulling the door open. “It pleases her so when she earns praise from the queen.” When the chamber door thumped shut, she returned her attention to her husband. Roahre rubbed her belly and chuckled as his unborn child kicked against his palm. “I plan to change Mother’s mind,” Honey said, wincing as the babe cavorted and thrashed within her womb. “If she sees that I am with child, perhaps she will rethink the past and come back with us. If nothing else, she surely will want to see her grandchild when it is born.” “I wouldn’t get your hopes up,” Roahre murmured, smiling sadly. “Please, let us go see them.” He shook his head and a pale lock of hair fell across his worried emerald eyes. Trying not to smile, Honey knew she had won the battle. “If you won’t go with me, I’ll go alone.” “You would, wouldn’t you?” She nodded, finally failing to conceal her victorious grin. “Should I put you under guard, then?” Her smile faltered. “Oh, Roahre, can you not see that I need to see my family?” A whirlwind of odd and baffling emotions flowed through her. “This is something I must do now.” “You shouldn’t tempt Fate, my love. Fate just might answer your taunt.” He pulled her close, kissing the top of her head. “I could not bear if it anything should happen to you.” Sighing reluctantly he said, “All right. I’ll arrange a trip, but we will not rush our passage through the Great Wood. Agreed?” She nodded. “Agreed.” *** They left on horseback the following morning. Traveling at a slow pace with several rests throughout the day, Honey and Roahre finally reached the perimeter of the Great Wood that night. Clouds covered the sky and a damp breeze brought the aroma of impending rain. Honey looked up at the half-light, dreading the season of constant night only a month away. Roahre helped her down from her steed, waiting to release her until she had her feet firmly planted under her. With a bit more than a fortnight to go before the babe’s birth, Honey felt big and ungainly. “I’ll walk you to the door,” he said. “No, I will go alone so that you do not startle everyone.” She straightened her shawl and nervously smoothed the wrinkles from her dress. “I feel like a large milk cow,” she said. Chuckling, Roahre kissed her. “You may feel like one, but you look like a queen about to give birth to an heir.” Smiling, she took the small lantern from him; carefully, she walked to the door and knocked. As she waited, she heard muffled footsteps inside and shot an apprehensive look over her shoulder at Roahre. He stood beside the horses, a magic orb glowing brightly over the steed’s back so that she could see him. Bella answered the door. Her mouth dropped open forming a perfect ‘O’, and forgetting the door, she allowed it to swing open. Lamplight from inside flooded the stoop. “Who is it, Bella?” one of the sisters called from within. “It’s… It’s Honey.” “Hello, Bella,” Honey said hesitantly, “I’ve missed you so much.”

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Honeysuckle and Wild Roses Crying joyfully, Bella tumbled into Honey’s arms. The sister’s crowded into the doorway. Excited chatter wafted out into the garden, startling an owl from his perch in a nearby tree. The flurry of wings erupted above Roahre’s head and all eyes turned toward the disturbance. Zoirah pushed through the gathering in the door. “Is that—” Upon seeing Honey, she burst into tears. Stepping aside, Bella allowed their oldest sister to embrace Honey. Finally, releasing her, Zoirah said, “You are with child!” Honey nodded adamantly. “The first prince or princess to be born to the Green People in two hundred years,” she said proudly as she patted her protruding belly. Some of the sisters squealed in excitement, some gasped in shock. “Don’t just stand there!” Bella took Honey by the hand. “Come in! Stay!” “Mother won’t stand for it, Bella!” Ishen protested behind her. “Oh, nonsense!” Zoirah said. “Honey is our sister, and Mother has missed her too!” Callan shouldered her way through the women. Gently, she touched Honey’s cheek. “As have we all, but that’s not what I meant. It’s him.” She nodded her head in Roahre’s direction, her dark eyes wary. “He’s my husband now, Callan,” Honey said, determination in her voice, although her heart fluttered with uncertainty. “If Mother doesn’t allow Roahre to enter her home, then I shan’t come in either.” Roahre walked half way up the path and said, “I’ve caused enough heartache for your family, my love. I shall come back for you in a few days.” She heard the pain in his voice at the thought of a brief separation and felt his dismay as well. “I say you shall stay!” “Who is at the door, daughters?” Amberon called. “Honey has returned!” Bella said. Upon seeing Honey on the stoop, their mother cried happily, “Oh praise Freya! My youngest has returned!” The sisters stepped aside. Honey held out her arms, but froze upon seeing Amberon stagger over to her with a daughter at each side steadying her. Amberon’s knotted cane dropped noisily on the floor as she put her withered arms around Honey. Tears choked Honey’s throat. “Mother, what—?” Behind Amberon’s back, Ishen sternly shook her head. “Oh, you’ve returned to me, child!” her mother sobbed against her shoulder. A moment passed, and finally, stepping back, Amberon clutched Honey’s hands tightly. “What’s wrong?” Amberon looked Honey over, noticing her sapphire blue gown and exquisite shawl of a finely spun fabric. Hesitantly, she reached out and placed a trembling hand on Honey’s swollen belly. Abruptly, she brushed past her, stalking in a wobbly, reckless manner to the door; several of her daughters reached for her, but Amberon angrily shook them off. “You!” she snarled at Roahre. He dipped his head in greeting. “Amberon.” Shakily, she turned, fastening Honey with a brooding look. “Why has he come here with you?” Her lips settled into a thin line. Honey stepped over to her mother and touched her face. “I’ve missed you all, and I wanted you to know you were to be a grandmother soon. Would you prefer that I had traveled alone in my condition?” She sighed softly. “We want to set things right, Mother. Come live with us, and know the son who was stolen from you.” “What use have I for a lost son raised by people without souls?”

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Honeysuckle and Wild Roses “That’s not true!” Honey cried loudly. “They do have souls! Just because they’re magical, mortals call them unnatural, thus fearing them. It’s part of the reason we came here, to prove to you that the Green People are like us! And we all need one another to survive.” “Those who steal children are without a conscience, thus they are soulless!” Honey’s gaze slid over her sisters; they remained silent, eyes wide, mouths agape. She returned her attention to her mother, her heart filling with pain. “Please, Mother! We want to set things right! Just hear us out!” “I guess he is not solely to blame. He didn’t steal you from me. You cut yourself off from me.” With Callan’s aid, Amberon shuffled inside and across the main room to her chair by the fire. “When I believed he was Shandy, I always suspected something between you two, but I could never discern what it was. Did you know him for who he really was the entire time?” “No.” “Then come tell me your story, child, but your husband is to remain outside with the horses.” “He is a king, Mother,” Honey said angrily, her frustration nearly suffocating her. As if feeling the same thing, the babe in her womb thrashed wildly, and she placed a soothing hand against her abdomen. “Do not treat him as though he’s dirt beneath your feet.” “It’s all right, Honey,” Roahre said behind her. “I shall wait here. Go inside and talk with your mother, visit with your sisters.” She turned, looking at him. He smiled, nodding, and at that moment, Honey felt such intense love for him that she wondered how her heart could possibly hold it all. Beckoning to her, Zoirah waited in the doorway. Sighing, Honey entered, casting a last lingering look at her husband and left him outside. Seated by the fire, her hands folded primly in her lap, Amberon sat waiting expectantly. “Why come back now?” she asked. The coolness in Amberon’s voice sent a chill through Honey. Waddling into the room, she took a seat next to Zoirah. Settling on the fur-covered cushions, Honey let out a groan as her belly rushed up to meet her breasts. She leaned back slightly, feeling as though the babe’s feet were in her throat. She swallowed, trying to reposition herself more comfortably, her heart pounding so hard she felt faint. Of all the distasteful things she’d had to do in her short life span, trying to talk to her mother about Roahre and the Green People would be one of the most difficult. Finally, Honey answered, “I came back to tell you that I’m safe and happy, Mother. I wanted you to know about your grandchild, and I wanted to see you all for I’ve missed you terribly.” “I find that you have gained happiness at the expense of others,” Amberon said coolly. “Your conscience bothers you, so you have returned to ease it.” She stared hard at Honey and tugged on the ends of the gray braid coiled in her lap. “Mother! You speak cruelly!” Bella cried. “I am being truthful,” she snapped back. “Shandy was stolen because the Green People are a dying race!” Honey explained, desperation in her voice. “More of them are dying than are being born, but you’re right, stealing a child is wrong. A changeling was sometimes put in his place and glamour was used to give us memories that weren’t real. The Goddess told the Green Man about me, and as much as I hate it, I am the key to strengthening the magic the Fae need to survive as a race. If you must hate Roahre, you must hate the goddess as well. She is the one who brought us together.” She paused, allowing those words to permeate her mother’s mind…and hopefully, her heart. Her sisters sat quietly around her, the only sound the crackling of the fire. “Now, I have met and lived with the

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Honeysuckle and Wild Roses real Shandy,” she continued, “and I love him just as much as I do the rest of you. He knows all about you, Mother. He wishes for you to come live with us too.” “Please,” Zoirah said. “Start from the beginning. Tell us everything.” The sisters turned to Amberon, who nodded her permission. Honey began telling them the entire tale of her life over the past few months, silently praying her mother’s heart would soften. As the hearth’s fire began to wane, she finished relaying the events of her life with the Green People, and everyone sat silently waiting for Amberon to speak. Zoirah reached over and patted Honey’s hand. “Are you well? You look a bit pale.” “The trip through the Great Wood has tired me,” Honey replied. In truth, she felt slightly ill and wanted to lie down. As Amberon’s silence lengthened, Honey lost her patience. She looked at her mother and said, “I came to set things right, Mother, but I see that you’re heart cannot be set right. You insist that the Fae do not possess a soul, but I see that you lack one as well.” She looked around the room, making eye contact with each of her sisters. “You all have a bit of magic in you. As the Green People’s queen, I ask that you all come to live with us. Reunite with your real brother; meet his wife and your nieces and nephews. King Roahre and I offer you a good home and you shall not want for anything ever again.” “Absolutely not!” Amberon barked, her face reddening. “I forbid it!” “Come with us, Mother,” Honey pleaded, knowing it was pointless to beg. “No.” “We should stay with our mother,” Ishen stated. Her voice held a note of uncertainty, as if she wanted to go and was too afraid of their mother to say so. Unable to meet Honey’s gaze, she fidgeted with the folds of her dress. “She needs us here,” she added, sniffing quietly. “The Green People deserve to die!” Amberon hissed, her face contorting with hatred. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.” Honey’s voice trembled. She detested the emotion she heard in her voice, wishing that she could be stronger towards her mother. “It was fate. The Goddess says that life with the Green People is my destiny should I choose it, so I did. I have made my choice and I shall live with it.” “I cannot forgive you, Honey,” her mother said, her tone like a slamming door. Honey glanced at Zoirah, pleading with her eyes and hoping that maybe, just maybe... “Let me gather a few things, and I shall go with you,” Zoirah said, her eyes shimmering with a curious mixture of sadness and excitement. Joy soughed through Honey, but before she could say anything, Amberon leapt from her chair. “Zoirah!” Amberon snarled. “How dare you! Is it not bad enough that I lost my oldest son, but my oldest daughter too? How can you abandon me like this?” On her way upstairs, Zoirah whirled. “How dare I leave you? Can you not hear yourself, Mother? I refuse to live here and turn into a selfish, withered, and hateful crone as you have these past months!” All the women gasped. Softly, in the corner of the room, Maybelle began to cry, adding her sniffles to Ishen’s. Honey stared disbelievingly at quiet, timid Zoirah. She watched her sister tremble, her hand clutching the stair railing. Once Zoirah had composed herself, she said, “Your pride and hatred have consumed you, Mother. You are offered the chance to have a new life, a life filled with wonderment and happiness. Instead, you choose to stay here and wallow in your wounded pride and hatred, trapping the rest of us with you. You should at least desire happiness for your children.” She

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Honeysuckle and Wild Roses took a deep, shuddering breath. “I choose a new life with Honey and her people, our people! I choose to be happy!” She turned, her footfalls angry upon the steps, and ascended the remaining stairs to the upper bedchamber. Amberon sat down again and stared stonily into space. Her heart heavy, Honey glanced around the main room at each of her sisters. Bella, Callan and Penelope added their tears to Maybelle’s and Ishen’s. Amberon said, “Because of you, Jorgus and Kaedric have labeled us as deceivers.” “Jorgus’ coin was returned to him, and you even had extra to pay your debts and buy the things you needed,” Honey replied, her temper flaring. “It does not matter.” Turning her head, Amberon gazed into the hearth’s leaping fire. “A deal is a deal regardless if payment is exchanged and later returned.” “Then they can hate me and leave you and my sisters alone!” “Gossip has already ruined us,” her mother said dully. “Then come with us. Leave the gossip and ill repute behind!” The baby twisted in her womb, making her shift her position. Honey watched her mother, feeling both the urge to cry and to shout at her. “You can escape with us.” Amberon refused to look at her, keeping her gaze on the fire as if answers resided within the flames. “No, you are the reason for all of this. You and that changeling outside. I shall not run from the dishonor you have caused our family but face it to prove that it was not my doing.” Struggling to her feet, Honey walked to the door feeling exhaustion settle into her bones, but she refused to stay where she was no longer wanted. “You care of nothing but yourself. You would rather cut out your own tongue than to speak what is true,” she said, fighting tears. “Farewell.” Opening the door, she stepped out on the stoop and waited for Zoirah. *** The sisters kissed Honey and patted her belly, begging her to bring the babe to visit once she and the child were able to travel. She knew that once she rode away their mother would no longer welcome her, so Honey made no promises. Shyly, Bella and Callan hugged Roahre. For a moment, Amberon watched from the doorway. She turned her back on Zoirah, who hugged her mother regardless, plantingt a soft kiss on the crown of her gray head. Turning, Zoirah walked away from the cottage, her gaze trained on Honey, who smiled encouragement. Honey stroked her swollen tummy. Despite the hurt she felt from her mother’s scorn, she now had another life to think about. “I am sorry, Mother,” Honey whispered. “No matter of what you believe, I still love you.” Roahre’s strong, comforting hands lifted her up on her steed. “Are you well?” he asked. “Obviously things did not go as you had hoped, but I see that Zoirah is joining us.” “I’m fine. I just feel out of sorts, which is nothing a good rest won’t cure.” She looked over at her sister and smiled. “Zoirah is sad to leave everyone, but she’s excited too.” “Are you sure you’re all right?” her husband asked. “You’re mother is cruel to send you away in your condition. If you desire, we can lodge in one of the village taverns.” “Those rooms are dirty and smell that way too,” Honey said as she adjusted her dress over the horse’s sides. She didn’t like the idea of traveling so soon through the Great Woods, and she felt incredibly tired, but they were no longer welcome here. “Let us go home, husband.”

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Honeysuckle and Wild Roses Roahre used one of Zoirah’s dresses to wrap her belongings in and tie it to the saddle horn. He mounted and turned in the saddle. Offering his hand to her, he hoisted her up behind him. He murmured a Fae word, extinguishing the magical orb and lit a lantern. He set the pole in one stirrup, the copper light swaying gently over his mount’s head. With a last farewell wave to her sisters, Honey faced forward in the saddle, the reins in one hand and her other placed possessively over her round abdomen. As they approached the village, Roahre transformed into the guise of Shandy long enough to pass through it. They followed the road through the small community and out into the deep green meadow. Studying the huge and ancient trees, Honey smiled.

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Chapter Thirteen The following morning, mere moments after Honey rode through the city gates with Roahre and Zoirah at her side, her birthing waters broke, bathing her dress and saddle in hot warmth. That evening, the third baby slipped from her body and Honey gasped in relief. Tears streamed from her eyes and trickled into her ears and hairline. “Are they whole and well?” she asked, panting, her entire body quivering from exertion. Realizing she had the bed coverings clenched in her fingers, she slowly relaxed her grip. Her finger joints throbbed along with the rest of her body. She took a deep, shuddering breath and wiped sweat from her eyes, blinking away the saltiness. “Zoirah?” she called. “Yes, Li’l One,” Zoirah replied from across the room. “They are whole, perfect, and as you can hear, all three daughters have lusty cries!” Using a cool cloth, Shai’s wife, Dikartha, wiped Honey’s face and neck as the healer delivered the afterbirth. “You did well, young queen,” she said in Honey’s ear. “Your king will be so proud that he has three daughters created from one union!” Weakly, Honey smiled, recalling the day she and Roahre had made wild love, rolling across the picnic food and finishing with her bare ass pressed against a tree and her husband spilling his seed into her womb. A flash of light filled the dim bedchamber. The women gasped, but Honey smiled, pleased with the unexpected visit. Shimmers swirled into the shape of a tall column, gradually solidifying into a shapely figure. Freya stood proud and solid in the center of the room. Dikartha knelt, placing her head upon the mattress, and the healer bowed her head, waiting. Across the room, Zoirah stooped over the babes in a low bow, both protecting them and showing the goddess her respect. Honey glanced at the other women, smiling at Zoirah, who couldn’t seem to grow accustomed to the goddess’s unexpected visits. “You have done well, young queen,” Freya said, hands on hips, a wide smile lighting up her smooth, ethereal face. She looked at each woman. “Zoirah, fetch King Roahre. I shall tend to the wee ones while you are gone.” Turning her head, the goddess looked pointedly at Honey’s marriage sister. Nodding her obeisance, Dikartha picked up the cloth and bowl of water, departing behind Zoirah. The chamber door thumped shut behind them. Freya strode over to the three newborns, who squalled furiously in a large square basket sitting upon a pedestal. She finished cleaning the third babe with the water and oils and wrapped it tightly in a soft, glistening blanket woven with Fae blessings. Scooping up the babes, she walked over to Honey, who lay watching her. The healer tucked pouches of moss and cotton between Honey’s legs and covered her with a blanket. “I shall return in the morning, my queen.” She bowed to Freya. “You’ve done well, healer. You may go.” When the medicine woman had collected her belongings and had gone, Freya asked, “Have you named the children?” “No,” Roahre said behind her, the door hinges groaning as he entered. “Honey and I have agreed that we would like you to name our child—our children.” He laughed and bowed respectively to the goddess before hurrying over to stare at his daughters in awe. “And you,” he said to Honey without looking at her. “I warned you about going on that trip to see your family. You are fortunate the wee ones decided to wait for our return home before clamoring to be born.”

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Honeysuckle and Wild Roses Chagrinned, Honey smiled. “We are all well,” she said, exhaustion falling over her like a heavy, warm blanket “Do you realize what your children represent?” Freya asked Honey. She shook her head. Right now all she could think about was holding her daughters and sleeping with them cradled protectively against her body. Freya picked up two infants and indicated that Roahre should scoop up the third child. She walked over to the bed and placed the two babes she held side by side next to Honey. Roahre laid his third daughter next to her crying sisters. He sat down between Honey and his daughters and stroked the damp, white fuzz on each small, round head. Honey noted his proud expression and even felt the pride radiating off her husband. “Each of your daughters represents a race of people,” Freya said. Leaning over, her golden hair fell to one side like a shimmering curtain. She kissed the right temple of the first babe. “This child shall represent the Mortals; I name her Loilati.” Kissing the second baby upon the right temple, Freya continued softly, “This wee one shall symbolize the Fae and I call her Enigma. And you, dear child,” she placed a delicate kiss on the third infant’s right temple as well, “I name you Unne for you shall symbolize the gods and goddesses of my realm, and your sisters will look to you for guidance. I bless each of you with my mark.” “Thank you,” Roahre said, his voice thick with emotion. “Yes,” Honey said. “I offer my thanks as well.” She blinked back tears, her gaze riveted on her newborn daughters. They were perfect and beautiful, a symbol of the special love she and Roahre shared. She glanced at Roahre and found him studying her, a smile of pure contentment on his face. Standing, the goddess looked down at the new family and said, “Raise them well. They are the princesses who shall bring the three races together as one. They will need you to be strong for them. Your daughters will be different from other children—from other people of any race.” A rush of warm air threw the doors open to the balcony and filled their room with the scent of honeysuckle and wild roses. The curtains fluttered like Fae dancers in grand gowns. Freya turned towards the open doors, and, raising her arm over her head, she brought her hand down as if throwing a ball. A golden sphere flew across the room and through the curtains. As it passed, Shimmers melded with the silken fabric and raced down their length to extinguish upon the stone floor. The power orb hovered for a moment just beyond the balcony, followed by a loud pop showering bright sparkles into the air over the courtyard below. Freya walked out onto the balcony. Her voice, powerful and clear, rang out, “Hear your goddess!” she cried. “The Daughters of Trinity have been born. Eat, drink, and make merry! The new era has begun!” A joyous roar erupted from the onlookers below. Another rush of wind swirled through the chamber, and in a blinding flash, the goddess dissolved into golden sparkles. The illumination hovered over the bed, and as Roahre placed the babes into Honey’s embrace, Freya’s voice erupted from the light. “Protect your queen and children, King Roarhe. One day, there will be others who will seek to destroy them. The Daughters of Trinity are the Fae’s hope for the future.” Her voice faded, and the glitters departed through the balcony in a funnel cloud of light. The door opened, and Zoirah poked her head in. “Is all well?” she asked. Roahre laughed. “Yes, all is well, my sister.” Nodding, she replied, “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to the goddess appearing so unexpectedly.”

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Honeysuckle and Wild Roses “Come,” Honey said, holding out her hand. “Sit with me before we sleep.” As Zoirah joined them on the bed, Honey noticed how much her sister looked like their mother. Pain soughed through her soul and she wished that her mother and sisters could see her newborn daughters. “One day your sisters will meet their nieces,” Roahre said as if having read her thoughts. “And they will join us here to create families of their own.” “Not Mother,” Zoirah said. “No, not Mother.” Honey shook her head and stroked Loilati’s tiny hand. “Mother’s heart has hardened into pure stone.” “Sleep, my queen,” Roahre said and placed one of his delicate kisses upon her brow. “You have an amazing life to begin when you awaken.” Cuddling her daughters close, Honey shut her eyes, feeling loved and protected. As she drifted into a deep sleep, she thought she heard the goddess’s voice. Your magic and that of your daughters shall save us, young queen.

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Chapter Fourteen Years shall pass, and love grows stronger. Hearts of stone fester and crack, seeping black despair into the world. Thus, the ebon blanket of conspiracy descends upon all creatures. Five Years Later The squeal of little girls playing nearby permeated the quiet of the evening. Honey watched Loilati, Enigma and Unne chase their cousins across the lower garden and into the barn overgrown with vines. She stared at her childhood home, memories flooding her mind. She heard the laughter they had once shared each night by the hearth. Memories of their mother reading to them from the books she borrowed from Widow Keera’s library drifted through her mind. Honey still remembered each tale, legend and myth in vivid detail that had spilled from Amberon’s lips. “So much has changed in five years, dear sister,” Zoirah said beside her. Honey glanced at her oldest sister and said, “Yes, it has. My heart grieves more for Mother’s hatred than her death. I just don’t understand why she couldn’t accept that we are a part of the Green People. Returning to them was the right thing to do.” “Some people fear what they do not understand—or shall I say what they refuse to understand.” Looking towards the barn, Zoirah called loudly, “Children, no climbing into the loft!” Disappointed cries drifted up to them, and Honey and Zoirah laughed. Honey took her sister’s hand, and together, they strolled to the goldfish pond. “Do you think Roahre will find someone who will be willing to live here?” Zoirah asked. “I’m sure he will,” replied Honey. She knelt next to the pond, feeling sorry that it had grown over with white lilies blooming upon thick, dark green pads. Algae floated in the parts of the water that was still visible. “None of our sisters wish to return here, and I don’t blame them nor would I want them to, but I hate to see our cottage grow old and fall in upon itself. Surely, someone from the village will want a place to stay.” The sound of running feet reached them. Honey and Zoirah turned to find their children rushing across the weedy ground, their faces flushed and fair hair tangled. Cobwebs from the barn clung to the triplet’s hair and their tunics wore smears of dirt and dust. Zoirah’s children, Shader and Meoth, had tears in their breeches. “Oh, you naughty boys!” Zoirah sighed in frustration. “I am so tired of mending your clothes!” Chuckling, Honey knelt as her daughters stopped in front of her. “What is it, li’l ones?” “We’re hungry!” they said together, harmonizing. The boys nodded in agreement. “And thirsty!” Meoth added with zest. Honey and Zoirah walked their children over to the horses. Zoirah removed a blanket from one of the saddlebags while Honey withdrew food and fresh water from another. After spreading the blanket on a bare patch of ground, Zoirah sat down on it, pointing at spots each child should sit so that Honey could set out the food. Placing fruit and cheese out for the children, Honey broke a loaf of hard, dark bread into large chunks for everyone. Later, their stomachs full, the children returned to the pond, having found reeds to poke at the frogs hiding in its murky depths. Honey watched, knowing one of them would inevitably fall in and require dry clothes.

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Honeysuckle and Wild Roses “I’ll bet you one of Dikartha’s beautiful beaded caps that Meoth will be the first to fall in,” Zoirah said. “I say it will be Enigma,” Honey replied, laughing at their wager. “It’s a bet, then.” Her sister looked at her and grinned back. Shaking her head, Honey laughed harder. “They are so mischievous! I never know what they’re going to do next, nor do I put anything past them. Roahre loves to sit and watch all our children play together in the courtyard. He laughs loudly at how the girls give the boys such grief when they play together. And Bella’s wee one is as sweet as beetle paste. She tries so hard to keep up with her older cousins.” “Your daughters are full of passion and magic, dear sister,” Zoirah said. “I often wonder what wonderful things they will do when they are grown women.” “I know.” Honey nodded sagely. “I often wonder the same thing.” The snort of a horse drew their attention to Roahre, in the guise of Shandy, returning with two women also on horseback. They rode up into the main garden and dismounted. “Husb—Shandy,” Honey said. “Who have you found to live in our empty cottage?” His eyes lit up upon seeing Honey, and she felt her insides grow warm with desire. The new babe in her womb kicked, and Honey placed a calming hand on her gently swelling abdomen. “Everyone is afraid to live here. They speak stories of magic and Mother’s death. They think the cottage is haunted. Widow Keera heard of my inquiries for tenants and sent two of her women to me to ask if they could reside here.” Roahre nodded towards the harlots. “The brothel is overcrowded and there might be two more who may join Nina and Din to live here.” “Our cottage turned into a brothel?” Zoirah said, nudging Honey’s arm. “I’m not so sure—” “Oh, we won’t turn your home into a brothel, mistresses,” the whore wearing a bright red dress and cap said. “We want a home away from the brothel.” The other, a dark-eyed beauty, added, “We will walk to the village brothel when we are needed.” Honey looked at Zoirah, whose eyes shimmered with uncertainty. Frowning, she glanced at Roahre, trusting her husband’s judgment. Honey nodded and said, “So be it. But we will return from time to time to check on our homestead to be sure that all is well.” The harlots smiled in relief, bowing their thanks. “Thank you, mistress,” they said. “Mother!” Honey turned to find Unne running towards her. “Loilati’s cheating at our game!” The second daughter pounded along behind her sister. “I am not! Loilati poked me in the ass with a stick and made me miss the big frog I was about to catch! “First, you do not use such words, Unne,” Honey admonished her barely containing her mirth. “And secondly, we must be going soon, so call the others to come to the horses.” “Oh!” the dark-eyed whore gasped. “They have the mark of Freya upon them!” The other harlot slapped one hand over her open mouth, followed by both of them backing away and prostrating themselves upon the ground. “Get up, please,” Honey said, shooting Roahre a helpless look. “You are the goddess’s chosen ones!” one whore said with her face pressed to the earth, muffling her words. “You are the Mother of the Daughters of Trinity!” “Please, be silent,” Zoirah said. She threaded her hand into Honey’s and squeezed, shooting her a worried look. Looking back at her, Honey saw the fear in her sister’s eyes and tried to calm her own fluttering heart.

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Honeysuckle and Wild Roses Roahre knelt and grabbed each whore by an arm, pulling them up from the ground. “Keep this to yourselves. You shall not tell anyone. If you do, I shall return to cut out your tongues!” “How do you know of my daughters?” asked Honey. Fear settled upon her like a cloud of pestering flies. Until the triplets were old enough to protect themselves, no one except the Green People and her family were supposed to know about their existence. “Who told you of us?” she asked again, anger and protectiveness filling her voice. “The villagers are aware of the rumors,” the harlot in red answered, her eyes wide with awe. “We’ve been hearing the story for the past five years. Even travelers who pass through the village gossip about the Daughters of Trinity.” “There are two who did announce it at a village gathering,” the beautiful whore said. “Who?” Honey asked. “What are their names?” “Master Jorgus and his youngest son, Kaedric.” An ill sensation washed over Honey from head to foot. She swayed slightly, and Zoirah quickly put her arm around her waist. Catching Roahre’s quick glance, his eyes brimming with fury at the unexpected news, she drew in a deep, steadying breath, praying to Freya to give her strength. How had those two boring oafs found out about the triplets? Who could have told them? Was it possible that Jorgus or Kaedric had followed them back to the Fae city that night five years ago? Mentally, she shook off that idea. The Fae would have known that there were mortals in their midst...unless someone had given them powerful magic to disguise their mortal blood. But who would do such a thing and why? Better yet, why would Jorgus and Kaedric want to cause them trouble? Surely, the fact that she ran off and married Roahre was not the cause! Marital disputes and problems with betrothed couples were settled in various ways, and in her case, Jorgus’ coin had been returned. “Go and gather your belongings so that you may move into the cottage,” Roahre said gruffly. “Speak of this to no one!” The two harlots nodded mutely and mounted their horse. They galloped out of the gardens and towards the village. “Come,” Roahre said, taking Honey’s hand and drawing her close. She breathed in his spicy aroma of cloves and dried leaves, feeling calm finally fall over her like thistledown. “Let’s gather the blanket and food and be on our way. I am uneasy staying here.” Another cry, followed by a loud splash, reached them. With a disgruntled sigh, Zoirah hurried to the pond. She returned, ushering her two sons and Enigma back to the steeds. Loilati and Unne followed sedately in their aunt’s footsteps. Dripping, his fair hair plastered to his skull, Meoth stood next to his mother’s horse as she rummaged in a saddlebag for a change of dry clothes. “Do you think that Jorgus and Kaedric intend to harm our children?” Honey asked, fear trembling in her voice. “Freya warned us about this,” Roahre stated, his face stern, fine lines of worry appearing around his mouth. “From now on, the children will have to remain in the city with us until they reach the age of their magic. Once their powers surface, they will have a way to protect themselves when we cannot. ” Honey watched Roahre put their daughters on one horse and her nephews on another. Regardless of how much Freya had warned of traitors and discontent, Honey hadn’t expected it to start so soon. The unborn babe thrashed within her, as if sharing her worry. She already knew she carried a son and that one day he would take Roahre’s place upon the throne. Would those who hated the Fae race target their son too?

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Honeysuckle and Wild Roses Her husband’s strong, warm hands lifted her onto her horse. Once settled, she looked down and met his emerald eyes, a silent communication passing between them. “You and our children, our unborn, are my soul,” he whispered to her. Glancing over at the children, Roahre added, “I’ll do everything within my power to protect you or die trying.” “I know,” she whispered back. “I just hadn’t expected it to start so soon. When Freya warns of trouble ahead, I always imagine it when our children are older.” Leaning over, she brushed his lips with hers and felt his hand slide into her hair, his thumb caressing her temple. When he released her, she saw worry, fierce protectiveness and profound love swirling deep within his soul windows. “Let us be on our way. The sooner we reach home, the better we’ll all feel.” He turned and mounted his steed. Riding away from her childhood home, Honey twisted in the saddle and looked back. Honeysuckle and wild roses climbed and trailed over the entire structure. Much had indeed changed over five years, and now, the Daughters of Trinity were in danger. Uttering the words that Roahre had taught her, she summoned her magic from deep within her heart and cast an iridescent orb towards the small farm. A shimmer settled over the cottage and grounds, and the blooms covering the house glowed brilliantly in the twilight. At least the women who resided in her old home would be protected from those who might search for her and the children there. Swallowing a lump of fear, she faced forward. Zoirah offered her a comforting smile, and Honey smiled back, hoping she looked braver than she felt. Roahre reached over from his steed, their horses’ withers bumping, bridles jangling, and threaded his fingers through hers. Soon, the meadow lay behind them. Entering the darkness of the Great Wood, Honey remembered something the goddess had said the night she gave birth to her daughters. “The Daughters of Trinity are the Fae’s hope for the future.” Shock coursed through Honey. She and her children were but pawns in Freya’s ruse. If her blood was the key to making the Fae strong again, and mortals eventually accepted the Faeries as their people, intermarrying, melding with them, that meant that one day there would be only one race—one magical race. Freya’s favored people. The Faeries. Oh, Freya, Honey thought, how could you... Tears trickled down Honey’s cheeks and plopped onto the silky material covering her swelling belly. The unborn child answered her with a hard kick of impatience.

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