Duchess of Mine by Red L. Jameson Page B

began.
“’Twas a beautiful day, much like today, when the fae pulled a
trick on a bonny lass.”
    The crowd booed, but Fleur knew they were
showing their anger at the fairies.
    Mr. Brown nodded then continued. “Ah, she was
a sweet thing. So lovely too, for many a man had never seen
anything like her before. She came from the time before time, ye
ken? She came from when the people drew their art in caves and
dragons roamed the earth. But the poor lass was troubled with an
evil curse, she was. The curse made it so she could never talk.
Never. Not even if she feared for her life, she couldn’ scream out.
Not even when she was angry, could she yell. She couldn’ even ask
for more salt, if she had a hankerin’. But the fae have special
sight about such things and threw her to the Highlands.”
    Someone yelled their approval, then the whole
tavern roared at the mentioning of the Highlands. Fleur smiled and
looked around the table, her heart thundering. Helen squeezed her
hand, and Rory gave her back a warm grin. Duncan looked down to his
beer, as if the thick foamy white head of it was thoroughly
intriguing. All indications he was indifferent to the story being
told, except his red brows began to furrow.
    She wondered if he was thinking of her
predicament. Did he believe her? If she were him, she probably
wouldn’t. It didn’t make any sense. It wasn’t logical. Actually, it
was preposterous!
    Mr. Brown started and the crowd hushed. “Ye
see, in the Highlands God gave to the men here more strength,” more
yelling ensued, but Mr. Brown continued in time. “And the fae knew
this, for they wished a Highland man to break the spell for the
woman. One after another the men approached the woman to break her
curse. The Laird of Sutherland tried,” someone booed, “but he
failed. The Laird of MacDonald tried,” no real yelling at that,
“but he failed. So many lairds tried to break the woman free from
her spell, but they could no’. Nay. About to give up, all the
lairds had a council, and that was when a lone stable boy
approached the woman. He wasn’ born of nobility, but was virtuous
and kind. He didn’ have many riches, other than his beautiful
singing voice, for all the land loved it when he sang. When he saw
the woman, so sad in her spell, he began to sing for her, he did.
Then he fell in love with her, and while he sang he wished to give
her his voice. The fae granted his wish, and the spell was broken.
The woman loved the stable boy so much she gave him half her voice,
so he could speak and sing too. And they lived happily until their
end.”
    The crowd erupted with loud clapping and
cheers. It was so much like the times she’d spent at the community
center at Porcupine. Well, the alcohol wasn’t served.
Intentionally. But the story telling, the familiar and friendly
feeling of the tavern, even the music was so similar to when she
had been a little girl growing up on the Pine Ridge
reservation.
    Fleur flashed to images of her all-boy
cousins, wrestling in the dirt with them and laughing
uncontrollably. Then she thought of the stories that everyone told.
Everyone. It was a tradition that even the children had the
opportunity to tell a fable. Suddenly her mouth watered, recalling
the thick, buttery taste of fried bread with cinnamon sugar. Which
always made her remember her grandma. Na had taken in a few of her
cousins from time to time. Yet Fleur and Na were always
together.
    Until Fleur was fourteen, that was, and Na
let the teacher take her away to the Texas high school. The memory
flavored Fleur’s mouth with the dead taste of ashes. She reminded
herself over and over again that Na had done what she’d thought was
best, she really had done what she had thought was best, was
best.
    But it still hurt thinking of being so young
and having everything she’d known ripped from her simply because
she was told she was smart. Super smart, the teacher, Mrs. Barter
had said. Her face had been flummoxed when she’d