Well, she
did have a point, thought Conquestia. It couldn’t hurt to see what she had
planned. Holding onto the precious
petals, he vanished into the air.
Dayinaira
watched the white stag and doe tenderly touch noses and then bound off into the
forest as one. Love was so easy for the animals. Not complicated at all. You
see someone you like, you see if he likes you, and then whatever happens was
meant to be. No charms, no acting, no false hopes. How lucky they were.
She had
seen The Glanconer, Conquestia, weave his charms around innocent young nymphs
and mortals. He acted like he enjoyed each conquest, but she knew differently.
Through the years his touch was less enchanting. His words were less enticing.
It was as if he was just doing it out of duty, and recently she had witnessed
him pulling back before he had totally won the heart of his victim, leaving a
place for true love in her heart.
He was such
a handsome Elfin man, so sure of himself and always gentle with his prey. She
wondered what his touch, his kiss, would feel like. His luscious lips pressed
against hers. Their hearts beating in rhythm, pulsating with true love. Could
he really love anyone? She would never
know. He, like all of the other men of Fey, feared her. They saw her as a
monster that brought nothing but despair and death. She would never find true
love.
Fickle, fickle, fickle Fey.
Don’t be dreary this fine day.
For I have seen your heart and know,
A way for your love to show.
The wind
tousled Dayinaira's hair as the words swayed through the trees.
“Ye of
wicked voice, show yourself! Face me with your lies! No one knows what lies
within my heart but me. No one dares get close enough to see.”
Fickle, fickle, fickle Fey,
This fairy doesn’t work that way.
I know your heart, your very soul.
The Knowing Fairy always knows.
A tranquil place is where he’ll be;
The Love Talker waits for thee.
His fear is not of your touch.
He fears that you won’t trust him much,
But, fickle, fickle, fickle Fey,
I’ve seen his heart in the same way.
He wants your heart but does not know
Just how to let
it show.
He feels you will see just the guise
And not the love that hides inside.
“And why
should I trust you who will not show your face?”
Fickle, fickle, fickle Fey,
We could do this all of the day,
But it won’t get you what you want,
And then it will be all your fault!
The Pool of Tranquility,
This is where he waits for thee.
The words
flitted away with a rustle of leaves. Dayinaira sat astonished by what she had
just heard. Conquestia loved her? How could this be true? He had never even
talked to her, much less shown any interest in her for the thousands of years
they had shared this forest.
The Knowing
Fairy was wrong this time. He could not love her. He didn’t even really know
her. Well, the only way to get that insolent fairy straightened out was to
prove her wrong, and the only way to do that was to have a little chat with The
Love Talker himself. With a flip of her hair she disappeared into thin air.
Dayinaira
spotted Conquestia sitting beside the pool intently staring at something in his
hands. She approached slowly, but he didn’t move. Finally, he raised his head
and met her intense emerald eyes.
“I think
you left these in the forest,” he said. “I have been studying them, and I think
I have gotten them to answer your question.”
Dayinaira
looked down at the crumpled white petals.
“And what
question would that be?” she asked, arching a brow and holding his ebony gaze.
“How will
you know if he loves you or loves you not?”
Dayinaira
gasped, then buried her face in her hands.
“What magic is this that tears at my heart and
messes with my mind?”
“A very
old, old magic, Dayinaira, older than both of us, older than time itself.”
Dayinaira
raised her proud head. “Well, since you are so clever, what is the answer to my
question, Love Talker?”
“Just that,
my love, he will tell you.”
Her eyes
again held his, her vulnerability no longer hidden.
“And what
does he say?”
“He says,”
Conquestia drew her into his arms, “he loves you with each and every petal.”
