Ink and Steel

“Never hast thou been wordless,” she answered, and kissed his nose to make him smile like that again.

“Annie, hush,” he said. And she obeyed, and he continued. “I promised I’d love no other but thee whatever sins my flesh was heir to. And I’ve broken that promise, my love.” She’d been lulled by the moment. By the spell of him, the gentleness, the kisses she’d almost forgotten the sweetness of. She closed her eyes and stepped away, acid burning in her throat. “A mistress?”

“No,” Will said, and pulled her close. And kissed her on the mouth. “A man.”

She wanted to jerk away, retreat to the corner between the clothespress and the bed. But his hands were on her wrists, and he held her tight, with a strength she didn’t remember in him. “A man.”

“Aye,” he said. “I won’t, won’t lie to thee. I loved him, and I love him still. And more.”

She steeled herself to stand motionless in his embrace, wondering if he could feel the thunder of her heart. So there’s a reason for his fevered kisses. “Will, I’d not have thought thee so capably cruel….”

“The man I love is no mortal, but an Elf-knight, a warlock. A creature of the Fae. And under a geas, that I may never touch him. No, nor any other, until his curse be lifted.” Anne blinked, not understanding. Thou’rt leaving me for a man thou canst not touch?” Oh, why not? He cannot touch thee either, sister.

“No,” Will said. He stepped back and touched the silk hung at the hollow of her throat. “No, I tell thee so thou wilt understand what he has given me. This man. This knight.”

She reached up and caught his wrist. “What? He’s bought thee from me for a bit of silk?”

“No, Annie.” He kissed the fingers that bound his trembling forearm. Kissed her wrist and the tenderness inside her elbow and bowed his head there, inhaling her scent. “Annie, he’s given thee back to me. How long has it been?”

“Judith is nearly fourteen,” she said softly. “What canst thy meaning be?”

He pushed her nightgown down over her shoulders as he kissed her again, without restraint this time. Despite her confusion, she gave herself up to the kiss, buried her fingers in his hair, tasted mutton and onions on his tongue. “Witches have spells for causing barrenness, my love.”

Author’s Note (brief version)This is the first of two tightly linked novels, a duology collectively knownas The Stratford Man. The second book, Hell and Earth, will be published in August 2008. A complete Author’s Note and Acknowledgements enumerating this narrative sextensive historical and linguistic malfeasances and encompassing asemi-exhaustive list of who may be assessed for the same may be found at theend of the second book.

About the Author

Originally from Vermont and Connecticut, Elizabeth Bear spent six years inthe Mojave Desert and currently lives in southern New England. She attendedthe University of Connecticut, where she studied anthropology and literature. She was awarded the 2005 Campbell Award for Best New Writer.