Read Online As Good as Gold by Heidi Wessman Kneale - Free Book Online Page B

gypsy was satisfied, she took her payment into her own skirts and bid Daywen to wait by the wagon.
    Alishandra soon emerged, her gold sequestered away. In her hands she bore a bag of fine purple cloth. “Here ye go, lass.”
    Daywen accepted the bag and drew open the strings. Inside lay a figure of a faerie, seemingly of glass, but when she drew it out, it hummed a sweet music. Daywen nearly dropped it.
    Alishandra explained: “This be the Enchanted Faerie, to aid ye in finding your one true love. She can only be given by my hand, and not taken by another. She will work her magic on ye. When ye have found your heart’s desire, ye must return her to me, for ill will fall upon ye ere you seek to retain her.”
    Daywen hastily put the faerie back in the bag. “What would happen then?”
    Alishandra picked at her teeth. “If ye be unlucky, bitterness and misery, a dark, unlovable soul.”
    That sounded familiar... “And if I’m lucky?”
    “Blessed death, to release you from your torment.”
    Daywen’s hands began to shake. Doubt crept into her heart. Had Llannyn once possessed this Enchanted Faerie by ill means? Is that what had twisted her soul?
    “Did, did my sister--”
    “I don’t tell people anything but their own tales,” Alishandra interrupted with a wave of her glittering hand. “But I do tell ye what ye need to know. The man ye wish is in Beltane. Return ye to the town and ask the first man ye meet today to marry ye.”
    “What?” replied Daywen, a little surprised. “Is it that simple?”
    “It is only difficult if ye make it to be.”
    Daywen searched her skirts for a pocket or a chatelaine loop for the faerie. Giving up, she tucked the bag into her bosom, patting it in secure.
    “A word of caution,” Alishandra said before she retreated to her wagon. “Keep the faerie with ye always, and tell no one, for there are those who seek her magic, and not always for good.”
    Daywen nodded, hands clasped over her heart and over the faerie.
    ****
    The gypsy’s words put Daywen into a conundrum; which way to enter the town? She could go straight there, but that would pass the Tanner’s home, and she had no desire to run into Master Tanner’s awkward, buck-toothed son.
    Home was on the other side of town. She could walk around the perimeter and slide in that way. While she debated her best route, she bounced the purple bag with the faerie in her hand. Only when her thoughts reached a dead end did she become conscious of its weight.
    “Oh, this is ridiculous,” she snapped at herself. “If my love is meant to be, then it will happen. It can’t be any more obvious than the first man I meet today.” Her fingers pried at the mouth of the bag, drawing it open. She lifted the faerie, and at her touch, it burst forth in soothing sounds. How did its magic work? Was she to make a wish?
    I want love more than anything, she thought, but a true love, a lasting love. No doubt there were plenty of men who’d give her a tumble for a night, or maybe several. But would they stand by her until the end?
    For that was what Daywen wanted--a devoted husband, strong and true.
    She slid the faerie back into her bag and stuffed it down her bodice. Clutching her hands together, she steeled herself with a, “What will be, will be,” and walked directly into town.
    Lachlan the Blacksmith came out of his shop as she passed by. “Hey, lassie!” he called, wiping his sooty hands on his leather apron.
    Daywen stopped abruptly. She turned and looked at him as a frightened deer would before it dashed away from the hunter’s arrow.
    Daywen had known Lachlan her whole life. He was about ten years older, squat of form and paunchy around the middle. His hair had begun to thin, while his red beard had grown bushier. His forehead was always shiny and Daywen had never liked his hands with their short, stumpy fingers. And he was single.
    Her heart sank. Surely this was not the fate Alishandra had in mind for her. Daywen drew in a