Anne Bishop - Belladonna

“Looks like Lee is going to have to create a couple of bridges,” Glorianna said.

Michael tucked the whistle back in his pocket. “Why?”

“A lot of Landscapers were lost when the Eater attacked the school. The bedrock in the landscapes they tended has been crumbling. Those landscapes have been crumbling, becoming mired in the manifestation of emotions without any guidance. But Ephemera wants guidance, and landscapes, like people, change. Some landscapes that were mine when I was sixteen were no longer mine when I was twenty-six. I let them go so that someone else would respond to their resonance. You opened yourself to the world, Magician, and Ephemera found two other places that need your music.”

He paled. “But… where ? Am I adding another day or two on the circuit to get to these places or…” A little more color drained out of his face. “They aren’t in Elandar, are they?”

“No, they aren’t in Elandar.”

“Then how…” He put it together, piece by piece. “Bridges. You said Lee would need to create bridges.”

She nodded. “I recognize the tunes. At least, a similarity between what I’ve heard and what you just played. Lee could tell you better than I, but I think these new landscapes of yours are close to places Mother or I hold. Stationary bridges would let people cross over between the landscapes.”

“If those places had been connected to the school, won’t the Eater find Its way here?”

“No,” she said softly. “Different bedrock now, different resonance. The access point that was at the school no longer matches that place. But if the Eater has established any of Its dark landscapes in those places, you’ll have to deal with them, eliminate them. Anything that isn’t part of your song doesn’t belong in your landscapes,” she added when he started to protest. “I—Nadia can teach you how to cross over to your landscapes, and you talk to Ephemera as easily as I do—better than anyone else I’ve known, including my mother—so asking it to take away what the Eater brought in won’t be a problem for you. But don’t go into those new landscapes alone the first few times. Have Nadia or Lee or Sebastian go with you. There are still wizards and Dark Guides roaming the landscapes. Not all of them were trapped in Wizard City. They could hurt you before you realized you were in danger. So take someone with you who can show you what you need to know.”

“You’ll show me,” he said. “You’ll teach me.”

You know better, Magician.

She wanted to throw herself into his arms and hold on, but if she allowed herself to feel weak, she wouldn’t find the courage to take the next step of the journey. So she looked at the grassy space behind Michael’s garden, and at the young tree, its branches bare of leaves now, that would provide shade in the summertime. Did she have any bulbs? Maybe she could plant a few crocuses around the tree. That would be a cheery welcome when he walked there in the early days of spring.

“It would be nice to have a chair or a bench there,” she said, tipping her chin to indicate the grassy space. “You could sit and play your music. Jeb could make you a bench.”

He gave her a Patient Look. “Aye. Well, as soon as I have a diamond I can spare, I’ll be seeing about a bench—and a birdbath as well, so the fluffy things can have a splash and twitter.”

They heard the pop, like a kernel of corn in a hot pan.

He just closed his eyes. She pressed a hand against her mouth to keep from laughing.

“Haven’t learned yet, have you, Magician?” she asked when she could speak.

“Apparently not.”

“Then let’s gather up your diamond and go up to the house to make breakfast.”

She planted bulbs beneath the tree near his garden. Crocus, she said. He knew what those were. Maybe.

They didn’t speak much throughout the morning. What was there to say? So he helped her in the garden and did his best to soothe the wild child.

That was something whoever had first shaped the story about the Warrior of Light hadn’t mentioned—or hadn’t understood.

She was going to scare the shit out of the world.

“Where is the heart’s hope?” Glorianna asked.

The words stabbed him in the gut, in the heart, but he kept his voice easy. “Which bit? There were several I saw in the garden.”

“Yours. The plant you wanted to keep when…”

When I revealed my heart.

He stopped and listened to the island. “Over here.”

“Should be in the garden,” she said as she fell into step beside him. They left the walled garden and headed for the house. “It should have anchored in a bed that represents your home landscape.” Her voice trailed away as they stopped in front of an oval of recently turned earth.

He didn’t need to ask if it was a new bit of garden. He could tell by the look on her face she hadn’t created this new bed near the house.

His home landscape. Not in the walled garden. Not in the landscapes. But here, where it was personal. Where it was just between the two of them. Because that was what he saw—the stone, the grass, the heart’s hope. The things that had represented home and were native to Elandar. And behind the stone, forming a protective half circle, was belladonna.

My heart’s hope lies with Belladonna.

That truth had brought him to the Island in the Mist. That truth was now manifested in plants and stone.

“This is your home landscape,” Glorianna said quietly.

“I know,” Michael replied. “I knew from the moment I set foot here.”

“I left a note for Yoshani, telling him I was leaving the garden in your care because you can keep the landscapes balanced until they resonate with someone else. And I told him I was giving you the Island in the Mist and the house here. You’ll take care of it, won’t you?”

“I’ll tend to all of it. That’s a promise.”

He stepped behind her, put his arms around her, drew her back against his chest.

Her breath caught as her hands settled over his.

“When?” he asked.

“With the dawn.”

He rested his cheek against her hair. “Then I want this evening. Invite me to your bed, Glorianna Belladonna. Let me love you tonight with all my heart.”

“I won’t remember you,” she whispered.

The pain cut deep. “I know. I’ll remember for both of us.”

She turned in his arms and rested her hands on his chest as she looked into his eyes. Her lips brushed his once, twice.

“Come to my bed, Magician. Show me the magic of love.”

In the pale gray light, that herald of the dawn, Michael reached for the woman who filled his heart and his dreams—and woke up, alone.

He lit the lamp on the bedside table, plumped up the pillows behind him, then looked at the painting on the wall near the bed.

Sebastian painted that for me, Glorianna had said.

Quite a jolt to see himself in a painting that came from an incubus’s imagination—and to wonder if his dreams had influenced the image Sebastian had chosen for Glorianna’s moonlight lover or if the painting had, somehow, been the source of his own dreams and yearnings. Just as much of a jolt to look past the romantic costumes and realize he and Glorianna had stood exactly that way in the garden yesterday after discovering the new bed that represented his home landscape.

They’d had their night of lovemaking, and he’d taken extra care to please her, to pleasure her. He had wanted to absorb the music of their lovemaking, had needed to fill his heart with the song of her when passion and love climaxed and shone with a fierce Light.

Now…

He pushed back the covers, went into the bathroom, and ran water for a bath. As he waited for the tub to fill, he closed his eyes, turned his head toward his shoulder, and breathed in the scent of her on his skin. He didn’t want to wash off that mingling of scents, but there was no telling what was going to happen in the days ahead or when he’d have another chance at taking a full bath.