Page 11 of Matches and Mistletoe
I could not speak.
She surged toward me through the water, her collarbones and breasts glistening wet. Her hands slid along my face on either side, and her thumbs swept across my lips. “Pretty human boy,” she said, in a voice so light it could almost be mistaken for a breath of wind. “Pretty human boy, be mine.”
I cleared my throat. “My name is Otto.”
“And I am Ernestine,” she said.
“You are—you are a faerie.”
“So observant.” She laughed and kissed my cheek and my nose before settling her mouth over mine. My tongue and my lips tingled at the touch, and a sparkling wave of desire raced through me.
We kissed a long time, and exchanged caresses under the water. But when I drew her more urgently against me, she laughed and backed away. “I do not join with my guests—though for you, I could almost make an exception. No, if you wish to have me, whole and true, then you must convince me of your love.”
“Love?” I could scarcely think past my own desire. “I have only just met you. I cannot love someone I do not know.”
She smiled, brilliant and joyful. “You have passed the first test, then. Too many men will swear their love instantly, just to claim me. You are an honest man, and for that you shall be rewarded. I will visit you tonight, and you shall learn to love me.”
She sank back into the water, and though I felt for her with my hands and even put my head beneath the water to look around, I could not touch or see her.
I returned to my castle, intending to tell my servants to make the night’s gala even more grand than originally planned. But then I considered that with all the noise and gaiety, I would not be able to hear the faerie Ernestine’s soft voice. Canceling the festivities would disappoint my people greatly, so instead I ordered that all the food and decorations be transferred to the church in the village, and that the benches within the church should be moved aside to make room for dancing. The priest protested, but I told him that King David danced before the Lord, and that such joy was a holy celebration of the Christ’s birth; and so he allowed it, though he grumbled.
That evening, while everyone was in town at the celebration, I waited quietly by the fireside in my empty castle, with a small dinner and a bottle of good wine at the ready. I tried to read, but I could barely focus on the page. When Ernestine’s soft voice reached my ears, a sprig of fresh green sprouted in my dry heart.
“You have passed the second test,” she said. “For instead of trying to impress me with your wealth and power, you have set out a quiet dinner for us two.”
I jumped up, scarcely able to breathe in her presence. “I would like to know you better.”
“And you shall. But first, there seems to be a delightful party in the town, and I would like to attend.”
The thought of the noise and the crowds did not appeal to me, but I bowed to her and said, “Anything you like.”
“Good.” She smiled. “Unselfish as well. Let us go down to the church and be merry.”
We left the castle gates on foot, and as we walked down the hill toward town, shadows emerged from the forest and joined us—tiny winged pixies and grinning goblins and tall faeries with sharp ears and sharper smiles.
“Why do they follow us?” I asked Ernestine, somewhat nervously.
“Because I am their queen.” She smiled sidelong at me, and her simple dress transformed into a magnificent gown of rich blue, glittering with silver trim and white gems like captured stars.
When we came to the church, my people were astonished to see me in the company of a Faerie Queen; but their confusion soon melted as the faerie pipes whistled, and the faerie drums thundered, and the faerie strings sang of love and wonder and miracles.
“I have heard troubling things about faerie dances,” I said to Ernestine. “Can you promise me that my people will remain unharmed and uninjured?”
“What a kind soul you are.” She pressed her palm over my heart. “Do you trust me, Otto?”
I looked into her blue eyes, innocent and ancient, sinful and sweet—opposing facets of a treasure that I longed to study for a lifetime. “Yes, I trust you.”
“Then you have passed the final test,” she whispered. “You and your people may revel without fear tonight. And at midnight you will make me your bride, here in this very church.”
“You, a faerie, would wed me in this place of holy faith?”
“And why not?” she said. “For He is also a purveyor of Magic, and of miracles.”
Her words echoed what my own heart had so long believed, and in that moment I knew all that I needed to know. I was hers, whole and true, and she would be mine.
She swept me into a dance, lyrical and wild, and we sailed on the waves of the music until the great clock struck twelve. The priest was too busy dancing to heed my request that he officiate; so I seized him by his collar and hustled him to the front of the church, where Ernestine and I spoke vows of love and loyalty. It seemed to me that the words were different—slightly skewed or twisted from the traditional vows I had heard before. At the end, Ernestine said, “One final vow from you, Otto my love. You must promise never to speak the word “death” in my presence, for if you do, a great loss will follow.”
I hesitated, frowning. “Why include such a stipulation?”
