Into The Wildewood Part 28

Raven brushed her fingertips over Keelie's brow and smiled gently. Then the old, no-nonsense Raven was back. "So, weren't we headed down to Rivendell?"

"You and Lord Einhorn?" She didn't have to speak the rest of the question. The answer seemed obvious.

"From the moment I saw him in the clearing. We have a date tomorrow night. He's kind of old-fas.h.i.+oned." Raven picked her way toward the path.

Keelie followed, her head still spinning from the idea of Raven being the unicorn's mate. "Married to a unicorn. That's just so weird."

"Not really. And hey, I won't have to worry about Rennie wenches going after him. They won't even see him."

Keelie laughed, then thought that maybe one day she wouldn't see him either. Sean waved to her from the bottom of the hill, and Laurie yelled to them to hurry.

Raven linked her arm through Keelie's. "What's really weird is that I'm grateful to Elia, if she was responsible for messing up my gig at Doom Kitty. Without her I'd still be there, instead of finding my true love."

Keelie laughed again. "Grateful to Elia. That is is strange." strange."

"Einhorn wanted to know where Elianard and Elia were. Did they just disappear?"

"Yeah, but I have a feeling they won't be gone for long. Dad thinks they're headed for the Dread Forest. He says Elianard has friends who share his views."

Raven looked troubled. "What does that mean for Einhorn? Will they be back?"

Keelie shook her head. "Who knows?"

"No one's going to hurt my mate, or the Wildewood," Raven said, suddenly fierce. For a second she looked proud and strong, a warrior queen protecting her realm.

Whatever sort of creature Raven's dad might be, he'd be proud of her. Keelie was relieved that she wouldn't have to worry about the Wildewood again, or Einhorn.

That night, the remaining elves held a Tree Lorem. It was a very different ceremony from the one they'd held for the Queen Aspen at the High Mountain Faire. There, the elves had praised Keelie, and she'd received the Queen's charred heart.

At this Lorem, she stood at one end of the tree that represented all the ones that had fallen. It was Bruk, the oak, and Keelie's cheeks were wet as she remembered the tree's pain when they'd been briefly mind-bonded. As her father laid his hands on the scarred bark, Bruk's face appeared, serene now, and then faded back into the wood. Keelie felt the forest lighten, as all the tree spirits faded into the Forest Beyond, leaving behind the green and the living.

Raven stood at the edge of the gathering, the white cat cradled in her arms. Keelie looked into its eyes and saw her pain reflected there.

Lord Niriel looked from Keelie to Raven, and down at the cat, and a curious expression crossed his handsome face. Even though he was Sean's father, she felt uneasy. Something about him reminded her of Lord Elianard. They were both tall and handsome older guys, but that should be the only resemblance. Lord Niriel was always polite. Even now, when other elves had sneered and whispered about Raven, who they thought was human, attending their ceremony, Lord Niriel had welcomed her graciously.

Keelie smiled at him, and he smiled back. Why had Dad said she should stay away from him? Lord Niriel was charming. Dad had told her to stay away from the unicorn, too, and good thing she hadn't listened to him.

Lady Etilafael stepped forward, and all eyes turned to her. "Keliel Heartwood, we thank you and your friends for your extraordinary efforts." She turned to Raven. "Lord Einhorn's lady, Raven of the s.h.i.+ning Ones-" A gasp went up from the elves and everyone craned their necks to look at Raven, who seemed puzzled by the name she'd been called. "You honor us with your presence at our ceremony. The Wildewood is in good hands."

Raven bowed her head, but her eyes shot over to Keelie as if to ask, "What the h.e.l.l?"

Keelie shrugged. Yet another question for Dad.

Dad leaned close. "The s.h.i.+ning Ones are the high fairies," he whispered.

Keelie turned to stare at Raven. Whoa. Whoa.

epilogue.

Keelie propped her feet on the Swiss Miss Chalet's dashboard and prayed for deafness. Or a coma. The camper creaked and groaned with every rotation of its tires, battered from the trip up the mountain and Laurie's wild ride back down. Zeke had decided that he surely could not bring it back down himself, and Laurie, fearless with the Dread gone, had volunteered to show off her driving skills again. In a show of solidarity, Keelie had gone along for the ride, and had probably cut about ten years off her lifespan. Maybe she didn't need to learn how to drive quite so soon.

But Zeke was himself again, and Keelie was stuck in the cab of the creakmobile with Knot, and Laurie, and the bhata bhata that would not go home, and the treeling-which had sprouted immediately after being planted in a homely terra-cotta pot and had been driving her nuts ever since. that would not go home, and the treeling-which had sprouted immediately after being planted in a homely terra-cotta pot and had been driving her nuts ever since.

Nuts was not a pun.

"When are we going to stop? I need coffee." Laurie sounded as peevish as Keelie felt.

"No coffee. We aren't stopping to go the bathroom, which we'd have to if you had coffee." Dad tapped his fingers impatiently on the steering wheel.

"Keelie, your father is an ogre."

"Nope. He's an elf."

I need to be watered. Do you have mineral water? Not that tap stuff that chaps my leaves. The aristocratic tree seedling was such a whiner. The aristocratic tree seedling was such a whiner. And when am I getting a new pot? I'm a princess, you know. This one's ugly And when am I getting a new pot? I'm a princess, you know. This one's ugly.

Knot growled. The bhata bhata clicked its stick arms at him, then climbed into Keelie's hair. She s.h.i.+fted uncomfortably. They were all crammed into the cab together because the back was stuffed full of her belongings taken out of storage, plus Laurie's mountain of luggage. clicked its stick arms at him, then climbed into Keelie's hair. She s.h.i.+fted uncomfortably. They were all crammed into the cab together because the back was stuffed full of her belongings taken out of storage, plus Laurie's mountain of luggage.

Keelie found herself looking forward to the Dread Forest. At least there, the elves would be rude and ignore her, and she could put some distance between herself and the Acorn Princess Alora.

"I could really use coffee. Come on, Zeke." Laurie wheedled like a pro.

"We haven't left the parking lot yet. Give me a break."

Keelie groaned and put her face against the window gla.s.s. It was going to be a long trip. And the second half would include a blind hawk, when they picked Ariel up on the way to Oregon. Maybe Ariel would eat Princess Alora.

She smiled at the thought as they b.u.mped their way out of the closed-down Wildewood Faire. The road was already clogged with the vehicles of disgruntled shopkeepers and performers. Keelie was glad she hadn't seen Finch again, since the fire-breathing administrator had probably completed her transformation into a dragon.

Around them, the forest stretched, green and lush up the mountain. Keelie thought she saw a glint of white near the top.

Goodbye Einhorn. See you and Raven next year. If I survive the Dread Forest.

And in response, she heard his answer, echoed by a chorus of trees that extended far beyond the green Wildewood ...

Farewell, Keliel Tree Talker, Daughter of the Forest.

About Gillian Summers

A forest dweller, Gillian was raised by gypsies at a Renaissance Faire. She likes knitting, hot soup, and costumes, and adores oatmeal-especially in the form of cookies. She loathes concrete, but tolerates it if it means attending a science fiction convention. She's an obsessive collector of beads, recipes, knitting needles, and tarot cards, and admits to reading InStyle InStyle Magazine. You can find her in her north Georgia cabin, where she lives with her large, friendly dogs and obnoxious cats, and at Magazine. You can find her in her north Georgia cabin, where she lives with her large, friendly dogs and obnoxious cats, and at www.gilliansummers.com.