Shame hit Cal all at once, mortifying and cruel. But the truth had to be said.
“There has never been a claim on me strong enough to keep me, in this world or any other. There is not likely to be, as I cannot wed as humans do, and because the fae like me, but are too aware of my human side to choose me for a consort. The only one aside from my mother who cares for me as me, half-creature, Cal of two realms, is my father. So, no, I do not wish to go, but there is naught I can do about it.” Cal summoned more courtly manners, and made himself smile. “But that is not talk for now, when I am in your arms at last, my woodsman.”
“Raymond. Not woodsman.”
Raymond was soft again, and Cal was going to break.
He attempted a light tone, despite that. “You give a fae your name?” Cal clucked his tongue. “Foolish mortal.”
“I gave it to you when I met you,” Raymond reminded him, and tugged Cal forward until their bodies were flush.
“So you did.” Cal was weak-kneed for confusing little kisses at his crown. His voice shook. “I thought you simply did not realize what I was.”
“You gave me yours.” Raymond seemed to be sniffing Cal between the kisses. Strange that Cal should not mind. But he jolted as he realized that Raymond as correct. Calhadintroduced himself as Callalily, and given a man he did not know his name. Histruename. And the sound of it in Raymond’s mouth had not once ever given him pause. “’Callalily of Hillston and the Wildwood,’ you said, and I stayed. I built a cottage between the two, though I am far from my family, and I stayed.” Raymond sniffed Cal again, and then made a noise that Cal could not describe as anything other than satisfied.
“Oh.” Cal curled his fingers into the laces of Raymond’s jerkin and pulled sharply. “Oh, but you did not speak.”
“You will leave.” Raymond grasped Cal through his clothes. “They told me you will leave, and I knew it was true. But I stayed,” he added, as if he knew Cal’s every worsening, sad thought and wanted them gone. “If you will mourn me, if that is more than desire for me and you do not want to go, then I will stay. One year or seven, it does not matter. Or, if you must go, I can go with you. I will tell the Faery Queen myself, if she will not release you.”
Cal closed his eyes. “I would like to see that,” he remarked faintly, though he doubted very much that even Raymond would confront the Queen in such a way. “Although, she will already insist upon meeting—Raymond? Did you… did you say you would wait?” The words could not be real, yet Raymond had no reason to lie. “You will go with me?” Cal opened his eyes, then lifted his head to try to study Raymond in the dark. “You… but even if I were a woman, we could not be wed. I am of the fae, and the priests say I have no soul.”
Raymond snorted. “And the priests will tell you I am touched by the Devil, as if all wolves are evil, and all men are pure.”
Cal stared at him in bemused wonder. “You speak nonsense now. I am telling you that I am this—that I love you but I do not expect gallantry or flattery. Although, you have never been one to flatter. If anything, I am the one to praise your strength, and your clever hands, and oh, the lightning in your eyes now, Raymond. Raymond, who gave me his name at our first meeting.” Cal frowned thoughtfully despite the ongoing nuzzling from his woodsman. “You didn’t know I wouldn’t trap you with it. Why would you do that?”
“It is our way,” Raymond huffed at him, teasing Cal somehow, though Cal knew not the joke. “You could command me, but you never have.”
“Don’t tempt me,” Cal admonished sharply. If he had known he had that power… he could not think of what he might have done. No, he knew already that the only thing he would have done differently would be to ask what he was still afraid to ask now. “Raymond,” he began, confused and pleased andalivewith a mortal’s uncertainties. “Raymond, do you— Do you hear that?”
Distracted by the call of distant horns, Cal jerked out of Raymond’s arms, and was only partially aware that Raymond curled his hands and let him go.
“I’m sorry,” Raymond said, while horns signaled a joyful arrival and dire warning that echoed in Cal’s ears. “If I frighten you….”
“Frighten?” Cal turned to him before spinning to track the sounds. “Don’t you hear it?” His breath caught and he reached for Raymond, trying in vain to shove Raymond behind him. If he heard the sounds but Raymond did not, then it meant the fae had not yet crossed into this world. But it would not be long now. “It’s too early!” Cal’s voice cracked. “I am supposed to have more time. I’m meant to have more time!”
Silver light more brilliant than the moon shot through the gaps in the trees and made the Wildwood sparkle. The ground trembled with the footsteps of countless horses, so much that Raymond, who had not heard the call to the Hunt, would still feel it.
“If I ask her,” Cal whispered feverishly, “if we are clever, surely there will be a way to end it. Or she will allow you to join me—but you cannot have meant that. You’re a man who doesn’t know the faery. I would not trap you. And I still cannot ask you to wait. Perhaps we can shorten the years, or she will know a way. Raymond?” Cal asked a moment later, when there was no reply and nothing for his hand to grasp.
He stretched his arm and splayed his fingers but found only air.
Cal already felt the pang of loss, and the long, slow, stretch of years with nothing to do but wonder if he’d been forgotten. “I was meant to have more time.”
Riders in rainbowed silks appeared before him, all of them beautiful, all of them gray and meaningless to him now. Their massive, white and black mounts moved delicately over tangled roots, a wondrous sight that Cal could barely stand any more than the ribbons on their halters that dangled to the forest floor. Servants with banners followed them, and shining knights of blue and gold, barefooted archers dressed in furs, with crowns of oak resting on their pointed ears.
They nodded to Cal, each of them, and slowed to a stop in a circle around him.
Cal turned again to watch the procession, hunters with no clothes but bits of feather and grass instead, servants with flagons of wine or trays of fruits that did not grow at this time in this world.
Behind them, the last to arrive, on a black bear with no saddle, was the Faery Queen.
Cal dropped to one knee and lowered his head.
The horns stopped.
“It is too soon,” Cal said insolently, afraid of the silence and what this meant. “Please. You can’t take me yet. I should have a night. At least a night. It’s little to you but everything to me. Please, my lady.”
Voice as silver as her light, the Queen replied, with far more patience than he likely deserved, “Callalily.”
