The Naked, in the Realm of the Faerie

Jane looked as Louis drew Eaving close, and kissed her. She felt cold and empty. Useless. A nonentity in this congregation where everyone seemed to have a purpose, except her.

What was I, she thought, but a pawn in all of this? I can no longer delude myself that I began this, with Brutus as willing, lustful confederate. We were all manipulated by something larger, and much darker. I was merely a piece, moved by some other, vaster power.

“We have all been pawns, in our own way.”

Jane turned her head. The Lord of the Faerie was standing by her side, his attention all on her rather than on Eaving and Louis.

“That is so easy for you to mouth,” she said. “What have you gained from this but joy? I have slid the other way. I am tired, Coel. I don’t want to play any longer. Let me go, I pray you.”

The Lord of the Faerie’s face crinkled a little, as if in puzzlement. He lifted a hand, and brushed it softly against her cheek.

“Strange words, indeed, for Genvissa. For Swanne.”

“They are long dead,” she said, turning her head away from his contact. “I hope they stay that way.”

“But you still have a role to play,” the Lord of the Faerie said.

Jane’s face twisted. “Ah, yes. I must hand over my powers as Mistress of the Labyrinth, mustn’t I? And how can I refuse, eh? There stand the delightful couple, god reborn and god apparent, and all I need to do to complete the happy union is to give Eaving what she needs to make herself and her lover the most powerful divinities in creation—gods and players of the Game.”

“That was not what I meant.”

Jane looked at him, hating it that all her bitterness and disappointment must be written plain across her face. “Really? Then what is my role? To bake the cake for the Great Marriage? To ensure that the floor is swept and the sideboard dusted? To—”

“Jane,” he said, “quiet that harsh tongue of yours for just a moment.” Taking her hand, he led her away from the throng. When they stopped, he pulled her close so that he could speak quietly in her ear.

“Do you remember,” he said, “when you were Swanne and I Harold, how well we suited each other in those first years of our marriage?”

“You never suited me.”

He laughed. “You were blind.”

“What do you want from me?”

“Do what’s best, Jane. Do what’s best.”

Her mouth tightened into a thin line. She knew what that meant. Hand over your powers of Mistress of the Labyrinth. If only he knew how little she would be needed even for that.

“Jane, I talk of that time when you come to meet me by the scaffold. Then you must do what’s best.”

“Why, Coel? What could you possibly want of me?”

His hands moved to her face, turning it so that she faced him squarely, and then the Lord of the Faerie lowered his mouth to hers, and kissed her gently.

“I will watch for you by the scaffold, Jane.”

She pulled away from him. “Don’t.”

“Don’t…what?”

“Don’t toy with me, Coel. Don’t torment me.”

The skin about his eyes crinkled. “Do what’s best, Jane. Not for you, but for the land. And…” the fingers of one hand trailed down a cheek, then traced about her jawline, “and, do what’s best for me and for you. For the both of us.”

She was confused. She didn’t know what he meant. “Coel—”

He drew away from her, looking over her shoulder. “Ah. I must go.”

He brushed past Jane, his fingers very briefly touching her hand, and walked to where Eaving and Louis stood, where they had been watching the Lord of the Faerie and Jane.

Jane turned, hesitated, then followed him.

Louis, his arm about Eaving’s waist, was talking to him.

“What do I do?” he said. “Gods, Charles—oh, dear gods, that is not what I should call you, is it?—my mind is still so numbed. I can’t think…”

He broke off, and shook his head as if to express his bewilderment, but Jane could clearly see his happiness, and it made her feel worse. Once, she had so wanted this man, wanted what she and he could achieve together. Now he loved—and was loved by—another woman, and planned his ambitions and his future about her.

The Lord of the Faerie put his hand on Louis’ shoulder, and spoke in a low tone to him, and as he did so, Eaving pulled herself gently from Louis’ grasp and came to Jane’s side.

“We should go soon,” she said, her strange, enchanted eyes soft. “We have risked our luck this far. I would not have Weyland come down from his lair and find us gone.”

“I should go,” Jane said. “You appear to have found your haven.”

At that Eaving’s face turned aside very slightly. “None of us ever truly know what our haven is,” she said, very softly, “until we fall in through the door one bright day.”

“Well, I, for one,” said Jane, “am sick of—”

Before she could finish, she felt the unmistakeable power of Ariadne touch her. The Naked dissolved abruptly about them, all the throng vanished, and she and Eaving were standing once more in Tower Fields.