Finding Bliss Read online

  Edmund shook away the gruesome memory and looked at his aunt. “I am aware,” he said. “I just prefer some of the other matters, the diplomatic missions. I have made several journeys and know many of our neighboring kingdoms well, dear aunt.”

  She smiled and shook her head. “Dear Edmund, diplomacy among others is nothing if you cannot be kind to those in your own kingdom. You work so hard not to make your father’s mistakes of frightening all in his wake that you find new mistakes of your own to make. The people of your kingdom are very important, too.”

  He nodded. She was correct. “Alright,” he said. “Tomorrow morning I will sit through court, so long as I have the afternoon to myself.”

  Fira raised an eyebrow and examined him closely. “You look quite happy and carefree today,” she said. She put her hand to her chin and added. “In fact, you look smitten.”

  Edmund tried to stifle his shock. He had no idea how that woman knew so much. She had a way with people, and particularly with him. She was the only parent he’d really ever known. His mother had died in child birth and his father was always off on some quest. Only Fira, Errol’s older sister, had stayed to care for the child he left behind. She had been fierce and independent in youth and intensely loyal to those she loved. While she was loving, she had never married.

  “Auntie, you know me too well,” he admitted.

  “And whom is this girl? Someone from court?”

  Edmund shook his head. “I don’t know much about her, except to say that she is different from us, and fantastic. I plan to see her again tomorrow afternoon.”

  Fira smiled, exposing a few wrinkles on her face. Fira’s hair had whitened years and years ago, when she was just a young lass, but her face was always youthful. While her face still appeared relatively smooth, he knew she was slowing with age. “That is good,” she said. “I think you need to find a maiden who tames your heart so you want to stay settled.”

  He laughed. “I’m not sure I’ll ever be tame, auntie. I’m a wild thing. Isn’t that what you’ve always said?”

  “Yes indeed, I did say that. But all of us can be tamed by love. Your father was, and I think that if he had endured its bitter end more easily, he would have been a better ruler.”

  Edmund bristled at mention of his father. He didn’t want to be anything like him. He wasn’t anything like him. He was more like Fira, strong and honest.

  “Dear, I hope that you don’t think Errol was all bad,” she said. “He was misguided. You’re very much like him in some ways, in the good ways. Tall, strong, thoughtful at times. But, when your mother died, taken from him just at the time he most needed her, at the time that should have been his triumph, he didn’t know what to do. Rather than opening his heart, he hardened it. Instead of pushing through the sorrow and appreciating the wonders he had left, he closed himself off and sought only the things that could not hurt him. He sought more land, more things, things that could not be taken from him capriciously. Things he felt he could defend. But, in life, we all suffer losses. It doesn’t mean we harden our hearts. It means we simply must love what remains more and be open to new things.”

  Edmund sighed as he stared at his aunt. Always so wise. “I wish he’d listened to you,” he said. “Perhaps he would’ve been a better man.”

  Fira smiled wistfully. “We cannot change the past, dear. We can only improve our futures. And if the young lady who you are so smitten with is as smitten with you, then that can only bring good tidings.”

  Edmund chuckled. “When it comes to love, you are always so positive Auntie,” he said. “I sometimes wonder at how that can be.”

  “I used to be a bit like Errol, hard on love, but my friend Radella taught me a thing or two at a time I needed it most. If you can find happiness in your life, the world will be better. I thought Radella might be able to get through to your father at some point, but I was wrong. So wrong.” She sighed and closed her eyes. “Just remember that if you find love, treat it with care and hold on for as long as it’s yours.”

  Chapter 4

  Blissa had returned to the fairy castle, a palace made of white stone and dripping with blossoms and vines, to find her father waiting expectantly for her, along with the foreign delegation. She dined with them, being as charming as she knew how and listening with new interest on their views on humans. Their position was simple: that humans were as varied as fairies. Some were good and some were bad, and it wasn't right to tarnish the entire lot of them with the baggage of one rotten apple.

  It had been an illuminating evening, and when her father had bid the delegation farewell, Blissa had planned to head to her own chambers to sleep. Only her father asked her to stay and talk with him for a minute.

  He brought her back to his personal chamber, a small room off of his bedroom with a low table in the center, several comfortable chairs, and a long chaise. Several windows let in streams of light during the day. It was evening now, and the glow of the moon filtered in. Her father sat in a high-backed chair and Blissa sat, too, in a chair next to his.

  Her father seemed tired and weary. He had grey hair now, and seemed to have lost a step from the vigor of his youth, but his eyes were still a piercing blue that were kind and generous. She smiled at him and said, “What did you want to discuss, father?”

  He sighed and said, “Your cousin.”

  Blissa bit her lip, sensing the seriousness of her father’s tone, though no emotions. He was king, and her powers, while strong, would not work on a king who did not wish to share his emotions. She could not sense his emotions, nor could she modulate them. It was a perk afforded to rulers of fairy kingdoms, to prevent them from undue influence. “Is something that matter with Maurelle?”

  “I don’t know,” he said, thoughtfully. “She came to me today, concerned I intended to lift the ban on human-fairy mating.”

  Blissa smiled. “I see,” she said.

  “I do not,” he admitted. “She seemed adamant that humans were not to be trusted, but then she hedged, asking if all humans I had known had been like that wicked King Errol.”

  Blissa found that she was curious. Had he known kinder, gentler men? “And what did you tell her, father?”

  “I told her I had known kind women and men. One in particular stood out: Eldred’s father, Aloysius. He’d actually fought in wars for men and had tired of it, telling me that he wanted nothing more than kindness and peace in his lifetime and that the Realm had brought him such. Every time I saw him, he had nothing but kindness in his heart. He loved Kinley and Eldred more than anything. It was a great shame to lose him when he died so suddenly.”

  “What killed him?”

  “A disease of men, a weak heart,” her father said.

  Blissa wasn’t familiar with that. “I don’t understand. If he was kind hearted, how could his heart have been weak?”

  Her father sighed and shook his head. “I do not pretend to understand the ailments of men, but Dwennon, my trusted oracle, suggested it is like when a fairy has a schism.”

  Blissa’s mouth opened in shock. A schism was a horrible thing, sudden and sharp pains in the chest followed by death. They were unpredictable, except to say that they tended to kill fairies in older age. “That would be awful,” Blissa said.

  “Do you know what precipitated her coming to me? She said she’d run into you before she came.”

  Blissa nodded. “Eldred kissed her, and I think she worries you won’t be pleased that she’s falling in love with a Halfling.”

  Her father smiled. “Well, it’s about time Eldred took some initiative,” he said, heartily. “I’ve seen the way he looks at her, but I assumed he’d seen something foreboding in his future, something that would make it not work.”

  Blissa was taken aback by that. She’d thought Eldred had taken so long because he was shy, and because Maurelle was ... well, intimidating. She gave very little by way of visual feedback. If Blissa didn’t have the power of emotion, she might never be able to tell Maurelle’s moods. “I
hope that is not the case, father. Eldred is good and kind.”

  “Indeed he is.” He sighed and leaned back in his chair. He looked toward one of the windows, staring at the moon. “I suppose this is yet another sign that I should perhaps lift my ban.”

  “The fairies from the South made good arguments, father,” Blissa said.

  He turned to her. “Does it not scare you ... that it could happen again?”

  She frowned. “Of course it does,” she said. “You fought in battle, you bore the brunt of their strength as they stormed in, attempting to murder us all, so you have a different view than I did. But I was hidden and scared with Maurelle, and we heard their viciousness. We heard them slay Radella, and it was horrific.” A memory flashed of the sounds of swords ripping into her aunt’s flesh, and seeing the blue blood slowly trickle under the closet door where she and Maurelle were hiding., flashed into her mind “I fear something like that, but something like that could happen in a fairy war, too.”

  “Fairy wars are rare, Blissa,” he said. “It’s been more than a century since the last one.”

  “I know, father,” she said. “But, I’m saying, I could live in fear of it happening again, or I could move forward knowing how unlikely it is. And how will we ever know how likely a human attack is if we shut ourselves off from them?”

  He reached out and patted her hand. “Whenever did you become so wise, dear child?”

  “When you weren’t looking,” Blissa teased. “Isn’t that when Dwennon says most of the important changes happen: when you’re not paying attention?”

  Her father smiled and shook his head. “He says the most important changes can happen when you’re not listening to those seeking your attention. That’s why we must make time for the loved ones in our lives.”

  A truer sentiment Blissa had never heard. “You have always made time for me when I needed it, father,” she said.

  “And I’ve tried to do so with Maurelle, too, but she ... I don’t know. I think she has never forgiven herself for her mother’s part in what happened,” he said. “I would never hold Radella’s mistake against Maurelle. Radella was fooled by Errol, and she sacrificed herself to save us all. I love Maurelle all the more because my sister sacrificed herself to save this kingdom. But I still feel like she thinks I blame her.”

  “But you don’t,” Blissa said. “She must know that.” But even as she said it, Blissa realized it wasn’t true. Maurelle loved them, but she watched them distantly too often, as if she were an intruder, rather than part of the family.

  “I think Eldred will be good for her,” King Roldan said. “I think she could find bliss with him. I’ll give them both encouragement.”

  * * *

  The next day, Blissa found herself wandering back to the crystal pond to meet Edmund. Given her conversation at dinner with the delegation and with her father last evening, she had a new inquisitiveness about humans.

  When she arrived, Edmund wasn’t there. She was at the same time sad, yet happy. She wanted to see him, but she was glad she had a moment to herself to prepare. As silly as the notion seemed, she wondered if she looked alright. She flitted over to the pond, where she leaned over and peered at her reflection. Her auburn locks hung beneath her shoulders, her hair curving in soft ringlets at the ends. She wore a simple white and green dress of silky fairy fabric. It hugged her upper body but the skirt flowed loosely, billowing in the breeze.

  She smiled as she looked at herself, thinking she looked quite nice today. She winked a green eye at her reflection.

  “I wish I were that pool,” she heard a voice say, and she turned to see Edmund standing there, his dark hair mussed and a crooked smile on his lips.

  Blissa could feel herself blush. “I didn’t realize you were standing there,” Blissa said.

  “I just arrived,” he said. “I walked as quietly as I could. For some reason, I thought I might frighten you away if I tromped in.”

  Blissa chuckled. “Do I seem like a deer who might frighten easily?”

  He took a moment to ponder. “I suppose you seemed hesitant about me last time you were here. And more than me thinking you were afraid, I thought my fortune would be such that I might somehow manage to chase away the one person I wanted most to see.”

  She watched him, lean and handsome, walking toward her with care, his back straight, his head held high. He exuded confidence but still kindness. He joined her at the pond’s edge and said, “The lovely Blissa.” Then he paused and added, “That is what you said your name was, yes?

  “Yes, I’m Blissa.”

  “A name that indicates how you make people feel — full of bliss.” He grinned, apparently thinking himself clever, but Blissa wondered briefly if he knew of her fairy reputation. The seed of distrust of men reared itself.

  “And what do you know of me and my abilities?”

  His eyebrows squished together, confusion on his brow. “I know nothing of you.”

  Blissa studied his face, genuinely uncertain about him. He wasn’t fairy, so she wasn’t as adept at reading his feelings, but he seemed earnest enough. She should give him the benefit of the doubt.

  She smiled. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I shouldn’t have said that. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

  He chuckled. “You were thinking I knew more of you than I let on. So, do tell. What secret is it that you think I knew, dear Blissa?”

  He was clever and observant. She hadn’t expected that, but she found it a refreshing surprise. She smiled coyly and said, “In truth, I thought you knew exactly who I was.”

  Raising an eyebrow, he said, “And who exactly is that?”

  “That’s the funny thing,” she said. “I’m not sure what it is people say about me or what of my reputation could have preceded me. I feel at a disadvantage when it seems someone knows more about me than I expect.”

  He reached out and took her hand. “Then tell me everything about you, and I’ll only know what you want me to know.”

  Blissa glanced at his hand holding hers, charmed a bit by his boldness. “Are all your kind like this?” she asked.

  “My kind?”

  Blissa nodded. “Yes, your kind. The world of men.”

  Edmund withdrew his hand and stepped back. “And what kind are you?”

  His newfound hesitancy surprised her. She wondered what he’d heard about fairies. Was he as prejudiced against her as she’d been tempted to be against him? “I’m a fairy,” she said.

  He frowned and took another step back. “The kind that murder human kings?”

  Blissa folded her arms. “The kind that defend their homeland against attack from human usurpers bent on murdering the royal family.”

  He sighed, nodded, and sat down at the water’s edge. He pulled off his boots, removed his socks, and slipped his feet into the water. Blissa watched, saying nothing. This man seemed so strange. She was lost as to what he could possibly be thinking.

  She sat down beside him as he stared across the water. She looked, too. It was a perfect crystalline blue today.

  “I suppose the stories are true, then,” he said. “That King Errol tried to take the fairy kingdom the way he took all else — by brute force. By his divine will. He wanted to be ruler of all, except his own home, they say.”

  Blissa looked at the desolation on his face. “I do not know much of King Errol, except that he deceived people and sought power, but I realized I was judging all men by his actions, rather than giving each man a chance on his own merit. So, perhaps Errol was as ruthless as they say. It matters not who he was. Not to me, not anymore. He’s gone and has no more effect. I suppose, what should matter to me, is who you are. And so far, your actions have been nothing but kind to me. Kinder, in fact, than mine have been toward you. For I started initially with a prejudice against humans, when you had nothing to do with the one man whom I am familiar with.”

  He took in a deep breath then turned to her. “So all fairies judge men to be like King Errol?”


  Blissa shrugged. “Perhaps not all, but I did, and I realize now that I’ve met you that I should not. You should not judge me based on what you’ve heard of fairies, either.”

  He chuckled and wiggled his legs in the water. A dimple appeared on his cheek when he did, and Blissa asked, “What is it that you’ve heard about fairies?”

  “My father once told me fairies were the most majestic creatures he’d ever beheld. He said their skin practically sparkled, they walked lithely, they were full of vigor and the women had the power to strengthen men beyond measure.”

  That was quite the description to live up to. “Kind words to be sure, but more fanciful than true. Fairies are kind and fairies love our world, protecting it and helping it grow. But we are no more special than any others with the same values.”

  Edmund nodded. “I suppose if the good was more fanciful, the bad was, too. I’ve been told that fairies are stronger than men and they can be vicious in battle.”

  “Only as vicious as need be to protect those they love. I imagine humans are no different. You would defend those you loved from attack?”

  “Fiercely,” he said.

  “We are no different, then,” Blissa said.

  “I suppose you are right.” He dipped his hand in the water and flicked a bit of the cool water at Blissa. “You probably like being splashed as much as we humans do.”

  Blissa giggled, and using her power of levitation, scooped water and splashed Edmund. “Of course we do,” she said. “Almost as much as we love splashing people.”

  Edmund grinned, and splashed her again. Blissa joined in, and the two engaged in a friendly splash battle and chatted and laughed much of the afternoon.

  * * *

  Blissa returned to the crystal pond the next afternoon. Part of her was hesitant about coming, about not telling anyone where she was going. Even though Maurelle had asked her to come visit the forest animals with her today, Blissa had begged off to see Edmund.

  He seemed nice, so different from her previous notions of the dreadful humans. And it couldn’t hurt to find out more about these humans if her father decided in favor of lifting the restrictions. Fairies rarely ventured into the human kingdoms, and without a fairy, a human could not come to the fairy realm. So, there had been too many years without interaction. Surely she’d understand them better by meeting with Edmund.