A Kind of Magic

Nineteen

"We will tell you everything, Lady Fiona, but first we need to make sure that your ring is real," Peregrine said matter-of-factly, putting his empty glass down, forcing himself to regard the bewildering woman as his duty and nothing more. 

If she was really Alaric's daughter-- and she was, he could feel it-- he would have to bring her to her father as expediently and expeditiously as possible. And she was not going to make it easy for him-- he could feel that too. Looking away from her, he smiled; he was sure that there was enough fire hidden under her calm and serious surface to cause him and her father an infinity of complications. He didn't know about Alaric, but Peregrine was addicted to complications, life would be dull without them... 

He slipped the leather thong around his head, placing Leodhais' ring on the table, inviting her to follow his example. 

She looked at him, raising her eyebrows in doubt-- she still hadn't smiled and Peregrine promised to himself that he would make her smile at least once before they let her go home tonight-- before she reached for the delicate gold chain securing her ring on her chest and fumbled with the clasp. 

"May I?" Peregrine offered when her fingers slipped on the mechanism, and she nodded, closing her eyes as his warm fingers touched her neck. 

His fleeting, accidental caress was warm and gentle and caring, whispering of so many qualities Fiona would not expect from such a dark and huge man... His touch took her breath away, and she yearned to inhale deeply, forbidding herself to do so out of fear that he would notice how affected she was by him. He couldn't know, she didn't want that, they had only just met and she would never see him again after tonight...

Her hair was silk-soft, and so was the cool, white skin of her neck, she felt like the smoothest and most delicate porcelain doll, Peregrine noticed, the information penetrating his mind and settling in his memory against his will. Her closeness was awakening the dreams he had kept buried for so long, feelings he could not think about, could not afford... He was destined to spend his life alone; his future did not lie with a woman, especially not with the Princess of Silmarea, the last scion of the half forgotten deities...

Closing his eyes briefly to collect himself before his companions would notice how very affected he was, he opened the clasp quickly and set the ring next to the other lying on the table. They seemed identical. 

"So how do we prove it's real?" Leodhais asked around a mouthful of food, observing the two bands of gold with a remote interest of a disinvolved observer. 

It wasn't fair. This ring and the woman who owned it were the elf's responsibility; it was Peregrine who shouldn't be involved in this quest beyond bringing these three safety back to Alaric.

"Leodhais' ring," Peregrine said, stressing the name of the real owner, grinning when the elf almost choked on his food at hearing the reminder, "will reveal its authenticity in the fire, and so will yours, lady. An inscription should appear inside when they are put into the flames." 

"Just call me Fiona, I'm no lady," she muttered. 

She narrowed her eyes at the dark man sitting at her side, feeling stupid for having thought that her ring somehow linked her to him, annoyed that she had been led to think that the ring he carried was his... Silly Fiona, she scolded herself. He had not lied, done nothing to mislead her; it was all her doing. But she wouldn't talk to them again until she found out as much she could about them and their intentions.

Even as the short and smily Gilderoy pushed a plate with bread and cheese towards Peregrine and her, as the two of them hadn't eaten anything yet, she asked of no one in particular.

"Tell me more about your ring. Who gave it to you?"

She avoided looking at them as the silence stretched and focused on eating her chips, one, two, three, until the blond man replied after a long while filled with what she imagined were exchanged questioning and urging looks passing among the three.

"All the rings except for the one you own belong to your father, lady. Fiona. He gave me this one to guide us to you along with... a permission to court you..."

That made her laugh. It sounded like a line from a poorly written historical novel. How could a man, a father who had never seen her, give another man permission to flirt with his daughter?

Peregrine winced and frowned at the unwelcome and alien pang of jealousy when it was the elf and not he who made her laugh-- she was breathtaking when she smiled, her entire face reassembled into perfect beauty in the moment of unguarded joy and he couldn't stop himself from picturing her in different unguarded moments, when her joy would belong to him entirely-- and it didn't help finding Gilderoy studying his frown, a knowing smile playing on his lips. Goodness, he hadn't felt like this for so long.

Turning away from the too wise and perceptive dwarf without a word, he watched the next question addressed to the elf forming on Fiona's lips. 

"Who is my father, and why would he want you to court me?"

"The ring first, elf," Peregrine said, feeling as desperate for her to turn her attention back to him, as for the ring not being the one they had been sent to find-- maybe then, only then, he could take his two companions back to Alaric and return here alone...

Leodhais nodded, looking relieved and Peregrine took her ring off the table, slipped it off the chain and held it between his fingers which he thrust into the candle's trembling flame relishing her gasp of shocked surprise. He smiled against his will as her hand came to rest on his forearm in an attempt to pull his fingers from the flame to protect him from the pain.

"You'll... hurt... yourself..." she murmured, watching the flame licking his skin and the gold ring, mesmerised.

"I won't," he muttered, leaning closer to her, erasing the gap between their bodies, feeling her shiver in his heat... Just what was it about her that made him feel so...

He almost jumped at hearing Gilderoy ask, "So? What should the inscription be? A part of a prophecy or something?" 

Fiona giggled, distracting him-- he loved the sound-- even as he was about to reply, speaking before he could open his mouth. 

"Just where did you three come from, a Lord of the Rings universe or something?" She finished the rest of her whiskey, starting to feel perfectly warm, relaxed, and untroubled in the unusual company. They didn't feel real; maybe this was all just a dream...

Sighing, Peregrine looked at the warm ring he had put in the palm of his hand. It was authentic; the magical inscription appearing for a fleeting moment on the hot metal proved it. He nodded to the elf, giving him permission to tell her everything; there was no reason for not telling her now.

"We come from the parallel world lying beyond The Stones, Lady Fiona. You are our princess. Your father, Alaric, is the king of Silmarea," Leodhais said, then added, "He's my foster father too. He took me in when my parents died years ago, during his father's reign, in the war against the tribes of dark wizards coming from beyond the Great Northern Sea. My father fought at your father's side while he was still a prince."

Peregrine let his eyes drop to his hands resting next to Fiona's on the table. He remembered the war; it had been long and awful. For the first time ever, he felt pity for the elf. He knew well how it felt losing both parents as a little boy.

Fiona felt the wave of pain following Leodhais' words wash over her dark companion, sending ripples through her as if they were really connected in some way... She had never felt like this before; she wished she could understand his feelings and console him somehow.

"You should eat something," she said the only acceptable thing her mind came up with, pushing her basket of potato chips in front of him. He hadn't touched any of the meat Helen had brought for them, and the chips were still warm.

He smiled at her, accepting her offer, moving a plate filled with cheese in front of her, recognising a fellow vegetarian. "You don't eat meat either, do you?" he asked.

His smile widened as she shook her head, freeing a couple more curls from her messy chignon, his eyes following them longingly as they caressed the contours of her face before they poured into hers, their silvery depth making her shiver.

"What... are you exactly?" she asked, unable to help her curiosity.

The man wasn't human, at least not entirely, no human man-- except for Lagon all those years ago-- had ever had such an effect on her.