laughter at the antics of his wee friend.
And Chelle and Borel danced the bee dance, showing the townsfolk how ’twas done. And when they were asked where they had learned such a step, Borel spoke of Buzzer, and then there was nothing for it but that Buzzer had to be strutted out for display the very next day. And the townsfolk Ooh ed and Ahh ed as if they had never before seen a bumblebee. It is said that in the days after, many folk suffered stings while trying to make pets of bees.
After each gala and upon returning to the chalet, Borel and Chelle oft stood on the balcony and looked at the moon and spoke of inconsequential things as well as things substantial.
During the days, as well, they strolled about the town, and Chelle outfitted herself with boys’ riding breeches and boots, for she would not go sidesaddle all the way to the Winterwood.
Borel smiled and said, “ ’Tis not ladylike, my lady.”
“I suppose your sisters never ride astraddle?” asked Chelle.
“Oh, they are not ladylike either,” said Borel, and he broke out laughing.
Too, Chelle acquired a supply of feminine necessities she would need for the journey, and one special sheer garment for herself. Borel made himself scarce during that shopping trip, and instead chose tack and supplies for his horses, now that he knew how the Lady Michelle would ride.
And every day they strolled along the mossy banks of a burbling stream, or played echecs, or whiled away the time at other idling but oh so important tasks.
And always they remained quite circumspect, and yet…
On the fourth night in the chalet, as they stood before her bedroom door, Borel said, “Chelle, perhaps you do not remember, but I courted you throughout our dreams, and I tried to not take advantage, for you did not know we were dreaming, whereas I did. Yet you fired my blood, and you still do, and I often lost control in the dream, and it is all I can do to not lose control now. For I would sweep you up in my arms and-Chelle, what I am trying to say is that you have my heart and you occupy my every thought. I would court you truly if I may and if it is your will. You need not answer now, my love, and-”
Michelle silenced him with a kiss, then she quickly stepped into her room and closed the door behind.
Borel, bewildered, walked to his own chamber.
Slowly he undressed, and lay down, yet he could not sleep, Chelle filling his mind: her scent, her sweet breath, her hair, her eyes, her laugh, her slender form and grace and elegance.
In the middle of the night with the moon shining in, Borel yet lay awake when his door softly opened, and, barefoot, Chelle came padding in. Borel turned to see her standing in the moonlight, her negligee sheer and revealing.
She came and stood at the side of his bed, her blue eyes unseen, enshadowed, though not by a magic spell but by the night instead. “My love, I remember every one of our dreams,” she said, her voice just above a whisper. “And in them I told you I have loved you since a time long past when I was but a child.” She let her delicate gown slip away unto the floor, and with her golden hair falling across her bare shoulders, she said, “But I am a child no more.”
And Borel reached up and drew her into his bed, and he kissed her soft lips and her eyes and her throat and her breasts and lower, and though she had no experience, she moaned with need and caressed Borel, running her hands along his firm muscles and across his flat abdomen and more. And they made gentle love and passionate love and wild love throughout the moonlit night.
“My, but you look chipper today,” said Flic.
“Do I seem to be walking on air?” asked Chelle, scooping slices of melon onto her trencher, along with eggs and rashers and crepes with syrup and toast with butter and a bit of cheese on the side.
“Where’s Borel?” asked Flic, eyeing the enormous mound of food on Chelle’s plate.
Chelle shrugged. “Perhaps yet abed,” she said, taking up a bit of melon and popping it into her mouth.
Flic grinned. “Uh-huh, as if you didn’t know.”
Chelle smiled and looked about to see if anyone were near, and then she whispered, “Oh, Flic, it was wonderful, and we are lovers. Isn’t it grand?”
“Well, it took you two long enough,” said Flic.
“Long enough for what?” said Borel, walking into the room. He stepped to the sideboard and filled a plate of his own.
“Long enough to, um, plight your troth,” said Flic.
Borel sat next to Chelle. “If she will have me, we are betrothed,” he said. He turned to Chelle. “Will you marry me, my love?”
Chelle’s eyes sparkled and she answered, but what she said neither Borel nor Flic understood, her mouth stuffed with food as it was. And both Borel and Flic looked at one another, and they shrugged and turned up their hands.
“I think she said ‘No,’ ” said Borel, a twinkle in his eye.
“I believe you’re right, my lord,” said Flic, grinning.
Chelle frantically shook her head and groaned a wordless protest, and both the prince and the Sprite broke out in laughter.
Finally, Chelle swallowed and this time clearly said, “Oh, yes, my love, I will marry you.” And she threw her arms about Borel and kissed him soundly.
Nine more days and nights they stayed in the chalet in Nione, and every day they celebrated their betrothal, and in the nights as well.
The evening they told King Arle, he made a public proclamation, and the entire town celebrated. And Arle toasted their good health and said, “Well, now, my friends, you have notified a king. Hence all you must do is post the banns, and, after the waiting time is over, find you a hierophant.”
“In my own demesne will we post the banns,” said Borel, “and in Duke Roulan’s demesne as well, once we get him free, for I would have the wedding be one wherein he gives away the bride.”
“Pah!” snorted Flic, but he was smiling. “You humans with your rituals.”
On the fourteenth day in Nione, Borel and Chelle and Flic and Buzzer made ready to depart, and Arle came unto them and he presented Borel with a bronze sword, its edge keen, its hilt capped with a white chalcedony gemstone, and a grey leather belt and scabbard with it. He then presented Chelle with a moonstone pendant. And to both he said, “These two stones are governed by the moon, and they will remind you of the perilous times and of your lasting love.”
Borel embraced the king, and Chelle hugged Arle and kissed him, and murmured her thanks.
Arle turned to Flic and held up a jar of honey and said, “This is for you and Buzzer. I am told it comes from the white moonflower and is honey rare indeed.”
Flic bowed and said, “Thank you, my lord, and I thank you on behalf of Buzzer as well. She and I will both be pleased with such a gift.”
On Flic’s behalf, Borel took the jar and slipped it into one of the packhorse bags with the food.
Then King Arle presented Flic with a wee tiny pendant as well and said, “This stone is known as a moondrop; it is said to be moonlight itself made manifest; well do you deserve it, my little friend, whose heart is perhaps the biggest of all. Wear it to remind you of the perils you faced and the victories won.”
Flic drew his silver epee and saluted the king. “Thank you, my lord. I will wear it with pride. Yet I remind you, the adventure is not finished until we free Roulan and all those entrapped by Rhensibe.”
Arle looked at Flic and then Borel and finally Chelle and said, “Oh, I have not forgotten that quest, my friends. As soon as you return with the magicien or sorciere to deal with that foul witch, I and my men will ride with you.”
“We thank you, my lord,” said Borel, and again he and the king embraced, and again Chelle hugged and kissed Arle, and then they mounted up and watched as Buzzer flew ’round and took a sighting on the sun and then shot off toward the demesne on the generally sunward bound of the Winterwood, an adjacent realm where grew yellow daffodils and blue morning glories and red clover, all three of which Flic and Chelle identified after Borel had described them.
And so, with a packhorse in tow, out from Nione they rode, and some townsfolk stood along the street to wave them good-bye. Up the far hill they fared-Borel and Chelle ahorse, Flic on the tricorn-all of them following a beeline for a distant border. And as they topped the rise, behind them there sounded a long and resonant horn cry:
