"Beating frantically in our chests". Okay, It is a bastardization of hope, but it totally works for this chapter.
Big thanks to @baelpenrose and @writing-with-olive for this chapter. And to @1978sah, @dierotenixe, for your affection for my work.
Late that night, I sat bolt upright, panic surging through me after entirely too much cat landed on my stomach while I was sound asleep. "Dex, what the hell!"
A paw hit my face firmly, thankfully without claws. "Something's happened. Trey's involved."
I didn't even bother with shoes, just pulled on a shirt over the sports bra I slept in and bolted out the back door. The moon was obscured by clouds, but I knew the land like it was my own body, and quickly made the mile run to the creek. "Trey!" I called out, trying to alert him to my presence without startling him on the off chance that he was unaware of whatever happened.
The thud of teenager plowing into my chest proved that my efforts had been pointless. "Stef, a branch broke while I was in the hammock, and I got tangled… I thought I was going to die, but then I wasn't in the hammock and the branch fell on it and the goats… oh my god, the goats." He clung to me, sobbing in heart wrenching gulps.
I let him. "Dexter, can you please check?" It was all I could manage while I tried to calm both myself and Trey. I could deal with Nate if any goats were harmed or worse, but I could not deal with myself if anything had happened to the kid. "Are you hurt at all?" I asked.
"I don't think so," he whispered hoarsely.
Dex shouted, and we both bolted to where the branch had landed. "There's nothing here but the branch and the hammock." He sounded confused and my stomach sank.
He may or may not be a cat or a dragon, but he was definitely never confused.
I checked for myself, borrowing Trey's flashlight from his bag - which he was carrying for some reason, despite claiming he had been asleep in the hammock.
Nothing. No goats, injured or otherwise. No blood. Not even a tuft of fur.
"Trey…" I ventured slowly, turning to shine the light on his legs. "You were for sure asleep when the branch broke?"
"The noise woke me up," he confirmed hesitantly, as if he wasn't entire sure himself of what was going on. "I tried to get out, but I was wrapped up and couldn't get my leg out."
"And you thought you were going to die." I didn't even ask that part - the branch was enormous and had stabbed through the hammock in several places. "And then you weren't in the hammock."
"Right. I was…" He looked around a bit before pointing. "Over there, on the other side of the creek."
My face twisted in confusion. "That's over thirty feet away…" Without another word, I started walking in the direction he'd pointed, after getting around the branch and the tree it had fallen from. A sweep of the flashlight across the creek made me yelp. "Dex!"
"I'm right here - Huh."
Trey was right behind us, but quickly bolted past me, splashing back across the water into the mass of brown, white, and black. When he hit his knees to hug a neck, the poor mama goat who had nibbled his hoodie earlier bleated at being woken up. "They're safe! Oh my god, I thought….. They were right under me, asleep. I just knew the branch hit them."
While he focused on checking each and every goat - much to their sleepy chagrin - I muttered to the creature at my feet. "You didn't do this, did you?" It wasn't unusual for Dexter to move things without being anywhere near them, especially over long distances.
"I certainly did not," he stated, just as confused as I was. "I felt Trey panicking, then magic that wasn't you, and woke you immediately. But I did not do this. I would not think to move the goats, for instance."
"And I couldn't have…. which leaves…."
We both stood there, staring as the most likely candidate cuddled a sleeping baby goat as he stepped carefully around the adults.
"Do you think he's figured out that he did that?"
"I don't think he has figured out magic was involved at all," Dexter ventured in a tone of speculation. "Although how, I have no idea. There isn't anything else that could have done it."
"Trey!" I called softly. "We need to check the branch to see what made it fall. Give Posey back her baby."
He dropped his head back dramatically before picking his way back to the mama goat and setting the kid down gently. "It was kind of windy earlier," he called back, wading back to us. "But that branch is huge. It couldn't have been blown down, could it?"
"That's what we're checking," I admitted. "Normally, if it had been windy enough to blow down a branch that big, it wouldn't be the only one. And I trust Benji's wards with literally my life, but the way things have been lately, it's better for my mental health if I just confirm with my own eyes and Dex's senses that nothing nefarious is behind it."
Playing the beam of the light over the branch, it immediately stood out that, while it had leaves, there weren't as many as there should be. Some off shoots were entirely bare, even. "Looks like…" I flicked the light to the broken end of the entire thing, confirming my suspicions. "Yep. We'll have to cull the tree. Trey, see that?"
"It's broken," he responded, confident enough to make me smile.
"Thank you, Captain Obvious," I laughed, pointing. "See how some of the broken parts are dark and dry, and some are light and still damp? It's been breaking off for a while. Which a healthy tree shouldn't do. Either the tree is sick, or it was hit on this branch by lightning during a storm. And…" I scanned the trunk, walking around the tree for a better look. "I don't see any blasting from where the lightning went into the ground, so black rot is the most likely culprit. Wanna see something cool?"
"I think I want more baby goat, to be honest," he confessed. "But yes, seeing something cool would definitely make tonight better."
"You think I was glowing during the day? Check this out." I handed over the flashlight, rested both hands on the trunk, and closed my eyes. Immediately, my power flowed through my palms and skated up and through the natural channels in the tree.
"Whoa…" Trey whispered.
I let myself smile softly before focusing again on what I was finding. Sure enough, she was sick, dying slowly. She'd been fighting it for such a long time…
"You did good, lady," I whispered, resting my head on her rough bark. "You made so much clean air and beauty, gave so many shade to rest in." A single tear rolled down my cheek. "We'll come to give you your rest tomorrow, and you'll make so much beautiful wood to make even more wonderful things with. Thank you."
Once my power receded - gently this time, nothing like earlier in the greenhouse - I opened my eyes with a deep breath. "She's very sick, has been for long time," I let Dex and Trey know. "We have to cull her tomorrow, she won't recover. And I'll have to check the rest to make sure it's an isolated case." With a sniffle, I wiped the tear that had reached my chin. "Trey, you can still sleep with the goats, if you want. It will just be on the ground. Up to you."
"I've slept in worse places," he assured me. "And I think I'll be a mess if I can't check on Posey and the rest."
"Dex, that means you're with me, so I'll know they're safe out here." I extended an arm.
He took the invitation for what it was, leaping onto my shoulder with practiced precision. "And I will be checking in, don't worry."
"We know," Trey and I answered at the same time.
I turned towards the house. "If you need anything, Trey, just think it really hard. Sounds like he'll be listening for it."
23 years old and I just made the connection that people on the northern hemisphere have a different view of the moon than people on the southern hemisphere.
I was a whole like, 40ish years old when I went to the equatorial region for the first time. My North American ass went to Colombia and first off, could not fuckin handle the fact that while it felt like summer (80-90F, humid), the sun went down on the dot of 6pm every night and rose at 6am every morning. There I was at 7pm fully beliving it was midnight, because it was both dark and hot. Like, I'm used to early dark! but it's cold when it's dark early! I could NOT handle it.
And then, there in the dark, pitch-midnight-summer-black at 7pm, up pops this lovely crescent moon and it is
fucking SIDEWAYS
i had NEVER EVER EVER realized, despite knowing my whole life that the moon is a spherical object rotating around Earth, also a spherical object, that it would be at different angles from different spots on Earth.
It's the MOON! How can it be DIFFERENT! My poor patient partner drew me a diagram and I was like listen I know all of that but I cannot actually handle it. Nobody warned me the moon looks different.
So yeah my feeble mind was BLOWN, all y'all world travelers/residents can laugh at me now. Knowing it is one thing, experiencing it is something else, and I did NOT see it coming.
The wikipedia article on Lunar Phases has really cool videos of the moon’s phases this year for both the northern and southern hemispheres! It’s highly detailed and shows how not only are the phases different in shadow but also that the face of the moon looks different in each hemisphere too!
Also a big fan of this diagram which shows the phases at more specific latitudes (including the “sideways” look at the equator!):
First off, thanks to @lolafaiy, @1978sah, @consentk1, and @experiments-in-craft, y'all are some real ones.
Also, to @writing-with-olive and @baelpenrose for beta reading, hand holding, and general support. Love y'all in the most familial way possible.
This chapter gives some lore into how magic works in this universe. Specifically that question about active versus passive. :D
Enjoy!
In the end, more ended up in poor little Pony than on my kitchen counter thanks to my temper tantrum. All of the persimmons, most of the lettuces, anything that wasn’t long lasting ended up as goat snacks or compost. “At least I have kale?” I muttered, trying to focus on the fact that I didn’t even have to freeze this batch. “And brussels sprouts.”
Trey was already at the table, two glasses of lemonade already poured. “Why are you excited about brussels sprouts? I think they’re gross and squishy. And they smell awful.”
I turned to see his nose wrinkled and managed not to laugh at his expression. “Yeah, boiled or steamed, I’m not a fan of them either. Literally everything you just said. But roasted? So good. I’ll make these for you to try at some point. Total game changer, I promise.”
The memory of him asking about leaving still hurt, but I pushed it to the side and focused on getting sandwich ingredients and leftover potato salad out of the fridge. “So, active and passive magic.”
Trey leaned forward, instantly engaged now that we were circling back to the topic. “Right. I thought everyone with magic had both, but you made it sound like that’s not the case.”
I nudged the plate of leftover burgers from the prior day towards him, nodding. “It is absolutely not the case. It isn’t even common to have both. But let me back up a bit, make sure we’re on the same page, okay?”
“Deal.”
“So, passive magic is pretty common. Even your mother has it, apparently,” I started, putting a patty with a slice of cheese on top in the microwave. “It’s magic that happens just because a person exists, that they don’t have control over. Mama Tanner’s prescience, my mom’s ability to know what people need, the way all my plants thrive just because I’m on the property. Make sense so far?”
He nodded, chewing a bit of - shudder - cold hamburger. At least he chewed with his mouth closed.
Snagging my plate on the beep, I came back to the table. “And then some people have active magic: the kind you have to focus and practice to make happen. It’s not as common as passive magic, but still not exactly rare. Benji’s wards, Taji’s healing, right?”
Trey started to nod, but paused. “Wait. Why is Mama Tanner’s magic considered passive, when she can avoid using it?”
“Great question!” I encouraged, pausing to take a bite of potato salad. Once I swallowed, I answered. “Mama Tanner can avoid the circumstances that trigger her magic, but doesn’t have any control over it when those circumstances are present. She’s lucky that way, because her ability has a very narrow set of criteria. Most passive talents - especially oracular ones - have extremely broad triggers. People are present, the user is awake or asleep, et cetera. For me, if plants are present, they will thrive. Full stop.”
Comfortable silence fell for a few minutes as he processed that. He set his burger down as his eyes slowly widened. “I cannot imagine what it would be like to have a passive talent that is set off by every little thing. Especially something like seeing the future…”
“My understanding is that it’s usually pretty awful. Something like my mom, not so bad. But for people who predict catastrophes?” I shook my head. “Usually they end up in Council custody for their own sake, but that’s a whole other thing for a whole other day.”
“No conspiracy theories at the dinner table, got it.”
I laughed, nodding. “Exactly. So, on to users with both active and passive magic. That combination is actually somewhat rare, and we aren’t sure what exactly causes it. As you probably can figure out from me and Benji, it isn’t even hereditary, and it isn’t genetic either. Our father had no magic, Mom had passive, and they ended up with one kid who has active magic and one with both.”
“And you didn’t just… learn how to use your magic on purpose?”
Shaking my head, I gave him a thumbs up. “Another good question, though, since active magic does require focus, intent, and practice. But it’s one thing to automatically make plants thrive in the manner that they tend to do when well cared for. It’s a complete other thing to force them to do things against their nature, which is what my active talent actually does. I can force plants to grow out of season, make them ungrow, make them grow in colors they shouldn’t… I don’t usually do any of that except when I’m starting seeds, because it takes a lot of energy to make plants act against their nature, and more energy the further against their nature I force them.”
He looked thoughtful again, rubbing his chin. “I wonder what kind I have.”
I shrugged. “No telling, yet. Realistically, we need to have you tested to find out what your magic even is. The only way to find out if it’s active or passive is to try using it on purpose. I didn’t even know I had magic until I was in school and we were trying to sprout beans. I was a super impatient kid, so I would stare at mine during class, wanting it to just sprout already. And oh boy, did it.” I laughed at the memory of my poor little bean growing too fast and falling over. “After that, there was a bit of trial and error, and it was hard at first - I mean, I was all of nine or ten years old. The best I can describe it is that it’s like a muscle, so you have to use it to make it stronger.”
He opened his mouth to ask a question, but closed it with a confused expression.
I shook my head, chewing on another bite of burger. After swallowing I responded to the most common question I’d gotten in the past at this point. “I definitely tried using it on things that weren’t plants when I was a kid, but no dice. When I got older, I found out that people with both kinds of talent always have matching or at least complimentary ones. Mine are both centered on plants, some others are active strength and passive health, active animal control and passive animal soothing… I think my absolute favorite is one person who is passively incredibly lucky but can also actively manipulate probability. Granted, he’s in prison, but it’s a pretty cool combo nonetheless.”
“That’s super cool, but not what I was going to ask,” Trey admitted around a mouthful of tomato, hand over his mouth. “Are some active magics easier to use than others? Aunt Benji was able to ward as a baby.”
I tilted my head, thinking. “So, this is something that you’ll need to ask Benji about to be certain, but I have a ‘best guess’.” He nodded, so I continued. “I think it’s not so much that some are easier, just that you’re more likely to accidentally use some more than others. How often is someone going to blow up a beansprout because they’re impatient? And on the other hand, how likely is it that a baby who can’t express themselves is going to push someone away because that isn’t the person they want?”
“Ooo, good point. You might be right.”
“Like I said, Benji would know for sure,” I shrugged before eating my last forkful of potato salad. Standing, I took my plate to load it into the dishwasher. “Do you want any more food before I put it away?”
Lightning fast, he snagged another slice of tomato and shoved it in his mouth. “Done!”
Laughing, I shook my head. “At least you like veggies. Ready to take everything to the compost pile and the goats?”
“Can I still camp with the goats if I want to? I’m not scared anymore, but you made it sound so fun.” His voice was so small as he asked.
“It’s super fun, honestly, so grab your stuff. Worst case scenario, you change your mind and have to drag it back.”
In a vain attempt to hide his excitement, he headed towards his room in a controlled scramble. Within a couple minutes, he emerged carrying the hiking backpack I’d given him weeks earlier in case he did decide to leave at any point. I would hate it, but he would at least have a sturdy and waterproof bag to keep his stuff in. My heart was lighter when I saw it had barely anything in it - he really was just planning to camp out there for the night.
After a detour to the shed to grab one of the hammocks, we tossed it on top of the wheelbarrow and headed to the edge of the property.
"Hey, that's my shirt!" Trey laughed several minutes later as he held the ropes for the hammock taut so I could tie is securely for him.
I glanced down, already giggling. Sure enough, a goat was testing his hoodie for edibility. At least this time he held on to the ropes. He'd already dropped them a couple times to play with ones who had tried headbutting him, climbing on him, or just generally distracting him with their antics. "She's just investigating," I laughed, securing the final knot. "She won't actually eat it, I promise. All done!"
He took the opportunity to give me a mischievous look as he hung his bag on a branch he seemed to think was high enough that the goats couldn't reach it. Joke was on him, they could climb. But he'd find that out eventually, and I couldn't wait to hear about it the next day. Once I made sure he was set to settle in, I left him and the wheelbarrow to it and headed back to the house. It was eerily quiet without the random sounds of teenager, and I was so lost in thought that I nearly jumped out of my skin at the sound of Dex's voice.
"Very stoic," he remarked, tucking his currently-white feet closer to tuxedo-patterned body. "Benji called the house while you were playing with those silly animals."
"Trey did the playing, I set up the hammock."
"Yes, you will completely convince me that you did not play with a single goat," he deadpanned, blinking at me slowly before continuing. "I filled her in on what happened with Trey, that he's doing better now, and that he's camping with the goats. She wants me to let you know she thinks you handled it the best you could, but shame about the fruit."
I dropped into a chair, running a hand through my hair and idly noting the shorter length, still jarring so close to having chopped it off to lay the wards. "Glad she approves of my methods," I confessed. "It makes me doubt myself less."
"You made a mistake, you admitted to it to all and sundry, and you took accountability to do better," Dex drawled at me. "It's more than most parents, real or foster, ever do."
"I have emotional whiplash," I muttered, not even trying to make sense with the line of thought. Dex was used to it. "Ups and downs, at the same time. I am happy he seems to be mostly okay after what happened and that he felt comfortable enough to ask for space, sad that he even temporarily considered it, beating myself up, and just exhausted. This whole situation has been a roller coaster."
"At least the goats have gotten the last of the kudzu," he offered unhelpfully, licking one paw and cleaning his already immaculate whiskers. "I don't sense any more, and I've been paying very close attention since it tried to possess your harridan of a sister."
"You love her," I accused gently. "I saw how you forced it out of her."
"I do not love her, what a disgusting notion." He wrinkled his nose and bristled. "My authority was being challenged."
Not fooled even slightly, I took the bait to be distracted, propping my head up on one hand. "You did seem ready to eat the spirit that was… challenging you. Although I'm curious what that would have done to the kudzu. Or more importantly, to Benji."
"The physical plants would have died," he admitted. "But since we didn't know how much of it was hiding on the property, I did not want to risk the dead weight damaging something important, like the maples or the willow tree. Benji would have been entirely unharmed, although she would likely have had a gap in her memory from where it rode inside of her."
"She would have hated that, but good to know that's all it would have been."
Low/medium effort canned fish meal: soup. Noodles (rice noodles cook quickly), canned fish (or any protein), frozen veg (or whatever you have and want to use up), broth/bouillon, any spices you like. Put it all in a pot until done.
a lot of people seem incapable of giving their favorite characters or OCS opinions that they themselves disagree with and that's very very boring on my opinion
I still feel bad about having one beloved character say apples taste like soggy driftwood, and another say that flying sounds like a terrible no-fun idea. I disagree with both of those sentiments completely! And I like both characters!
But one is from a reptilian species that doesn't eat fruit, and the other is a centaur who's afraid of heights. Their opinions are valid (even if they're wrong). Sometimes you've gotta put your own opinions aside.
In the wake of the discovery of Rowan's true nature, a subtle tension within the keep released and vanished and Adelia realized just how cautiously the topic of monsters had been handled around her before.
How it had been avoided entirely unless she had mentioned something first and even then they had tried to tell her as little revealing information as possible.
As she joined the kitchen staff for breakfast, they answered her questions readily and gushed about how much they looked forward to the next full moon. She now also got to see the blood dishes that were getting prepared for Rowan and the night guard, carefully timed so everything was ready for them once they rose.
From blood pudding to blood soup, there were a whole lot more dishes than she thought possible.
"It doesn't replace their need for fresh human blood," Ada explained. "But it is a nice treat and it soothes the parts of them that have been mortal once."
After breakfast Adelia sought out Sorceress Iva, who had come back from tasks that had taken her away from the keep and the sorceress was still up and about when she knocked. Today the older woman was dressed in flowing lavender embroidered with purple and blue flowers and gleaming, gem-studded butterflies, and a beautiful, flower-embroidered lavender headband pushed her curly hair back a bit.
"I was given this by Alexzander," Adelia said as she pulled the cloth-wrapped stone from her pocket. "I was meant to show it to Rowan and likely cause him harm with it." Or, at the very least, force him to reveal his true nature, whatever that would have looked like.
Mayhaps he would have transformed into the large, winged creature that had crashed onto her balcony so many moons ago, giving her quite the fright in the process.
She would have been a lot more unsettled after such a display, though she thought she would have calmed again regardless. There was something about monsters that was not terrifying to her, but rather fascinating.
The sorceress's face immediately turned from friendly if a bit tired after her long night to one of disgusted annoyance. "That little worm really remains nothing but a headache," she muttered, waving Adelia in. "Let's see what you got."
They headed up into her workroom and Adelia set the cloth-wrapped stone down on one of Sorceress Iva's tables at her guidance and with an elegant wave of her fingers the cloth unwrapped itself to reveal the same golden, sunrise-and-sunset stone from before.
The sorceress's brows rose before she frowned and she performed a couple of quick spells, the sigils and runes on that particular table glowing before fading to dark wood again.
"Fascinating," Sorceress Iva murmured and she coated her hand in a fine layer of magic before she reached out to touch the stone itself, its golden glow warm on her face. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you managed to carve a piece off of the sun itself."
No one could touch the sun, Adelia knew that very well. At least not physically. Not that people hadn't tried throughout history, but they weren't even able to touch upon clouds without the aid of great magic and the sun was even farther beyond that.
"I wanted to reach out to Lord Ivan, in case you thought his input might be helpful," Adelia added and Sorceress Iva hummed.
"It might be worth a try," the sorceress answered with a decisive nod. "Clerics and sorcerers don't share the same strand of magic, but considering how sun-like this gem feels he should take a look." She glanced at Adelia. "Would you mind me holding onto this until he comes around? I'd like to run some experiments."
"Of course, please," Adelia answered right away. "I trust your knowledge and experience explicitly."
Sorceress Iva smiled, the crows feet around her eyes crinkling deeper and giving her a look of years-long enduring joy. "That makes me glad to hear." She lightly clapped her hands together. "Now, unless there is anything else, please allow me to be rude and throw you out. I've been on my feet for an entire day and I need to get some rest."
"There is nothing rude about it," Adelia answered with a smile of her own and stepped back towards the stairs winding down to the entrance room of Sorceress Iva's domain. "Thank you for your time."
The sorceress waved her off with a little chuckle and Adelia left with sweeping skirts, pattering down the winding staircase of the tower to return to her duties. She made sure to pen a letter to Lord Ivan, asking him if he was willing to visit to discuss some unexpected discoveries.
She had that letter sealed and sent off with a servant after proofreading it, before she turned to her awaiting tasks.
"We should set up an office of your own," Steward Lambrecht said once she was done. "Not that I mind sharing mine, but we will run out of shelf space sooner or later."
"That would be lovely," she said and he gave her a curt nod and a small hint of a smile.
"I'll have one made ready by tomorrow," Steward Lambrecht promised. "You are welcome to decorate the room as you like."
Her own office sounded pretty nice. She got up with a grateful smile and they said their goodbyes. With her tasks done for now, she headed up into her rooms to write her friends back home.
Looking at the letters once she was done, she realized just how much happier her letters sounded. Her gladness for secrets revealed, to be trusted and welcome and taken seriously translating itself easily onto paper. She drew larkspur paired with begonias, followed by apple blossoms paired with zinnia.
She loved her friends so dearly, adored them for all the care they had shown her over the years and their concern and willingness to be there for her, to aid her as much as their positions allowed, no matter what. Even at their detriment at times, risking getting a scolding and light punishment from her parents to save her from hers.
"I love you," she whispered over the letters before sending them off.
The next moment, an idea found her and she rose to her feet and she grabbed her tools and materials, bringing everything down into the workshop in one trip when some passing servants saw her with two baskets of things and immediately insisted to help.
Once she had everything put away, she could sit down and work on her inventions. Out in the open, with her own dedicated work space. No longer did she have to hide or fear anyone's reactions or come up with new and creative hiding spaces.
For Katrina she designed a budding little rose that opened into a blooming one if the stem got twisted and for Izabel she designed a bumblebee brooch that flapped its wings if the small chain at its belly was pulled.
Her sketches started out a little messy at first but soon solidified, all the pieces coming together in her mind before they were put on paper.
They were going to be fiddly little creations and it was a joy to design them and once she was done, she got so lost in carefully selecting and assembling the pieces that she forgot the time, right up until someone knocked at her door.
"Dinner service," Rowan's voice called out and she bid him to enter, surprise lacing her voice. How had time slipped by her in this manner? She had never dared to lose track of time back home. It startled her, for just a moment, before she slowly relaxed again. This was a good thing, she decided. She preferred this to the constant fear of her old home.
Rowan entered, effortlessly carrying a platter of food and two crystal chalices as though it was nothing. "I thought I could find you down here. Would you mind some company or should I let you be?"
He meant it, she knew that. If she told him to go, he would and he wouldn't be upset with her for having her own space. He would understand, would smile at her and care for her just like before.
She had never worked with anyone at her side, had only ever stolen away a bit of time here and there before sunrise and after sunsets, and between lessons and whenever her parents had been occupied for a couple of hours for sure while they attended to their own business.
She had never been able to show anyone her process, the trial and error phase, her gleeful successes and frustrating failures.
The only one who had ever seen her work with metal was the blacksmith and she still deeply regretting getting him involved, just like she carried the pain over her lost horse locked in her heart.
No, not lost, murdered. Murdered for the crime that she had dared to try and build something for herself. Murdered for the crime of being loved by her, her horse's existence boiled down to how much pain its loss would bring her.
There was hatred in her heart as a result, cradling the pain, and while it didn't ease the hurt of loss and grief, it kept the determination alive to never again let her father hurt her like this again.
To keep her heart safely away from others until they had proven themselves. Which Rowan very much had. He also couldn't get hurt by her father, not only because he was a warlord, but also because he was a vampire. She could make all the mistakes she wanted and still know he'd be at her side.
"Take a seat," she said, daring coursing through her blood as she took all her fears and pain and held it beneath her fluttering heart, willing to teach her most wounded parts that there was goodness and safety, still. That there was room for her in the world, for her joy and her desire to create things that hadn't existed before.
Rowan pulled a backless chair from one of the neighboring tables closer, setting the tray down at the edge of the table.
"What are you working on, if you don't mind me asking?" he asked as he sat down beside her without crowding her or being in the way and she reached for her sketches, handing them over.
"A rose and bumblebee," she said and his gaze seemed to light up, a red glimmer going through the darkness of is eyes.
"They look beautiful," he said. "You have quite the artistic talent." He smiled wide enough to reveal a hint of fang. "If you ever want to draw together, don't hesitate to ask me."
Adelia thought of the paintings in his rooms and then of the paintings hanging in the halls of the keep. "Did you do any of the paintings in these halls?"
"Certainly," Rowan answered, returning her sketches and he started to plate a bit of the food, ensuring it stayed away from her work. "The first portraits that I hung up were of my mother and sire, they're right in the entrance hall."
Adelia remembered the two beautiful women well and she could guess which one was his mother. The dark haired woman with kind eyes and a loving, hopeful smile. That meant that the other one, pale as a winter morning, was the vampire who had turned him.
"I was starting to forget what my mother looked like," Rowan confessed, waiting until Adelia scooted back a bit from the table before handing her the plate. "I had a few sketches of her but they were fading, as well. I didn't want to let her memory vanish into obscurity, she deserved to be remembered."
He leaned forward to tap the table with his fingertips, a smile on his face. "I think we're alike in that sense. If someone or something is worth remembering, we try and make it last as long as we can. To last longer than we do, if possible."
Adelia thought of her clockwork horse, her desperate attempt to honor her companion, to hold onto the memories she had left and try and make something of the love that had gotten left behind, with no choice but to become grief.
She looked at the rose and bumblebee, her attempts to turn her love for her friends into something tangible so she could give it to them and let them hold on to it. To let them know how much they mattered to her even when she wasn't beside them to remind them herself.
"We are," she agreed and looked back at him. "Do you fear it sometimes, living longer than most?"
Rowan was quiet for a long moment, running his fingertips along the edge of the table. "I am ready to grieve," he settled on saying at last, voice soft in a way it hadn't been before.
Soft like he could already see graves of his loved ones, could watch snow settling onto cold earth as yet another winter passed, the world turning, unheeding of anyone's pleas and wishes and ideas.
Soft like he knew how fleeting joy was and how important it was to cherish people while he could, hoping for one more tomorrow with everyone at his side.
"I don't know how long this life of mine will last and I have lived a long time already." His smile was a little wry, a little melancholic. "I've learned to appreciate the high notes and to survive the lowest points. And who knows, maybe one day I will tie my life to a mortal's and die alongside them. A far more peaceful end than the touch of silver blades or sunlight would be."
His smile was warm now as he looked at her, soft in a different way. Not like someone who knew the touch of death and the long, silent presence of grief and pain that didn't fade as life continued to grow around them, but soft like a hopeful morning, like the sun just rising and flowers blooming open. Soft like a breath of fresh air and a feeling of possibility dancing at questing fingertips.
He tapped the table again. "Now please eat a bite and then I would love to see how you're going to turn these amazing sketches into clockwork creations."
She took a couple of big bites, ensuring she leaned away from the table to avoid getting crumbs on anything. He grinned at her like she was delightful and it made her feel flush with warmth and a downright preening sort of emotion. Like she might just be a little bit invincible.
Polishing off the plate in no time, she wiped her face and fingers on a napkin, before she started to explain the process to him.
It was a fun, long evening, with Rowan watching closely and with admiring curiosity, while he sipped on a chalice of wine. When Adelia suddenly remembered their waiting correspondence, Rowan waved her off.
"I've been having a lot more time to myself ever since you came here," he said with a smile, something captivating in his gaze as he looked at her. "Enjoy yourself, this night is yours as long as you want it to be."
She could only smile back and return to her work. By the time she was about to fall asleep sitting upright she had finished both gifts, carefully testing them a few times to see if they worked reliably. They did, the flower bloomed and the bumblebee's wings buzzed.
"Beautiful," Rowan said with a shine in his eyes. Something young and almost innocent, full of downright childlike joy and admiring awe. "May I?"
She handed both items over, not doubting that he'd be gentle with what she had made. Trusting him and his hands. He ever so careful twisted the rose into blooming and lightly tugged on the fine little chain at the belly of the bumblebee, his expression lighting up.
It was then that Adelia decided she would make something for him, as well, even as she yawned so hard she teared up.
"I fear I'll have to retire for tonight," she said and Rowan laughed softly, warmly, as he handed the gifts back to her.
"My dear Adelia, it far past midnight, I think it should be around two or three in the morning." He rose to his feet, gathering the used plates and chalices onto the tray before offering his free hand to her. "Allow me to accompany you to your rooms?"
"Certainly." She took his hand and a little laugh slipped out as he hoisted her up with enough strength that she found herself bouncing a little on the balls of her feet, her skirts swishing.
With a downright impish grin, Rowan took one step back, still holding onto her hand and he raised it above her. Adelia found herself grinning as she went with the movement, twirling once, her skirts billowing out a little.
"We should hold a celebration in the keep," Rowan said as he bowed gallantly over her hand, like a knight in a story who had gotten to dance with his favored lady, before letting go. "Just for fun."
It sounded like a great idea. "I would love that," she answered, still grinning and he sketched a playful bow. "And this time I will invite my friends as well."
"As my lady wishes," he said, dark eyes twinkling. "Well then, shall we?"
She picked up the gifts and left her workshop together. The keep was silent around them, but she caught a glimpse of a night guard for the first time, the dark skinned, hooded vampire pausing long enough to offer her a polite bow before they were gone again, silent and swift.
The exhaustion of the late hour caught up with her on the way to her rooms, though they detoured briefly to the kitchen to drop off the tray and she was more than eager to head to bed when she reached her door.
"Sleep well, my lady," Rowan said, his voice warm as he smiled at her. "I shall see you again when you rise."
"Have a good night," she answered, sleepily smiling back at him. "Until tomorrow."
For once it felt like a good thing that the winter months had only a handful of daylight hours as she stepped into her rooms, glad to know that it would take a while for the sun to rise once more. It meant she could spend more time with Rowan.
Writing a quick little note on two strips of paper, she placed them and the gifts in the box and closed the lid one after another, swapping the gem as she went, her heart glad and her body halfway asleep already.
As soon as her head touched the pillow she was out like a light.
*.*.*
She woke to answering letters from her friends waiting for her, though Adelia could admit that she felt tired still, her body heavier and her mind a bit sluggish. She wasn't really used to such long nights. It was dark still outside, however, snow gently drifting down and her rooms were warmed by a merrily crackling fire.
Once she had freshened up and gotten dressed for the day, she sat down to eagerly read the letters. Her friends had been overjoyed at the gifts and they had clearly picked up on her good mood.
They were very happy for her and ever since she had been able to convince them that Rowan was good to her, they had been nothing but relieved and glad.
Katrina had mentioned once, just a few days ago, that it gave her hope for her own marriage. Her parents were intently searching for a husband for her, one of higher station preferably, and she had to sit through polite conversations over tea as some of the other noble families accepted her parents' invitations.
Katrina hadn't mentioned anyone catching her eye so far and Adelia couldn't remember any of the young bachelors ever drawing her friend's attention in the past. While her friend had enjoyed conversing with the young men that were fun and kind, while carefully avoiding those that weren't, she had never spoken about them in a way that implied she might fancy them.
Then again, Katrina had always been of the opinion that she would never risk falling in love when her parents were going to choose whoever was the most fortuitous match regardless of who she liked.
Love was not necessary for a good marriage, Katrina's parents had always said that since she had been young. So long as their daughter got married to an appropriate gentleman, they were of the opinion that she ought to love her status in life enough that it would make up for the lack of love in other areas.
Today, however, Katrina's letter felt lackluster despite her gladness for Adelia's joy and compared to her complaining and exasperated love for her parents that had previously colored her flowery writing.
In fact, she didn't speak of herself at all, only asked Adelia if she could openly build clockwork creations now after thanking her for the beautiful rose and telling her that it was getting a place of honor in her room.
No flowers were sketched either and while, granted, they didn't always draw onto every single letter, somehow the naked corners of the paper felt like they carried a downright tangible silence. Adelia knew, just like her friends, that an absence of something spoke just as loudly as the presence of poisonous plants.
Maybe Katrina was exhausted by the constant tea and cake afternoons with varying degrees of pleasant noble company. Still, Adelia tried not to worry as she penned an answering letter to her friend.
She was asking through sketched flowers more than words if anything was wrong, carefully inking her worry and her promises of aid and support in delicate strokes along the edges and sides of the paper.
That was all she could do, though she wished she could whisk her friend away from whatever troubled her. Maybe she was coming down with something, Katrina had always gone quiet whenever she had gotten a cold, preferring to retreat and sleep off whatever ailed her, which usually took her a week or two.
There was, objectively, no reason to worry about a single flowerless, lackluster letter.
It was a gut feeling more than anything else that made Adelia's worry for her friend hook into her heart. Izabel must have felt the same way, for she asked Adelia in her letter if Katrina had spoken to her in private, if she knew of anything that was going on.
Adelia decided to wait a bit to see if Katrina would perk back up again before she started her worried prodding in earnest and as soon as she had sent her last letter she got up to attend to her duties. The little hook of worry remained, however, quiet and steadfast.
Rowan was still awake when she asked for him and they ate breakfast together, the kitchen staff joking and laughing around them, involving them easily in conversation or letting them be, the atmosphere light and easy and comfortable.
It was a far cry compared to the deferential quiet and hasty bows and careful words that surrounded her parents whenever they showed up in the kitchen. They usually only stayed as long as it took to give the staff orders and there was always an audible breath of relief when they were gone again.
Rowan brought up the topic of throwing a party, one that the staff could attend this time and Adelia could see everyone perk up.
"We would all welcome a night off," Ada said with a grin. "Plan it right before the full moon if possible, we wolves would love to greet our lady goddess on a full stomach."
Rowan laughed. "Very well, I shall get everything organized."
Steward Lambrecht showed up a moment later and before Adelia knew it, the party was planned right there in the kitchen, at one of the big tables, the staff crowding close to give their opinions and before long, the day of the next full moon was decided as the day of the party. Everyone was welcome to gather in the afternoon after they were finished with their tasks for the day and party until late at night.
"If you still want to invite your friends, they are more than welcome," Rowan told her as they headed up to his office. He had about two hours left before the sun would rise, though if the clouds in the sky were thick enough to choke out the light for longer, he sometimes cut it a little close.
"I shall do so" she decided, hoping that Katrina and Izabel would accept. She would love to show them her new home and to give them a night where they didn't have to worry about who watched them and listened to them. A night to just be themselves. "I would need Sorceress Iva's help to bring them here in time for the party, however."
If her friends had to travel here by horse it would take them at least six months.
Rowan nodded with a small, warm smile. "Of course, I'm sure Iva will be happy to help. As I said, bring anyone you want."
She glanced up at him and found a small, teasing smile appearing on her face. "Even Lady Miriam?"
He made a bit of a sour face, then sighed. "Yes, of course. If having the little nightmare here makes you happy, then I will welcome her." His smile turned wry. "With both you and Iris being her friends, maybe the two of us will even learn to get along one day."
She couldn't help but giggle, a little pep in her steps and Rowan smiled like he was glad for her joy. They spent the next two hours working side by side in companionable silence, before Rowan had to retire for the night.
For perhaps the first time Adelia found herself gripped by the desire to give him a hug as she offered to accompany him to his rooms for the first time.
"Marvelous, our positions seem to have reversed," Rowan remarked with a happy little smile. "How could I say no to such a lovely escort?"
Adelia, gripped by a moment of mischievousness, offered her arm and Rowan swept into an unexpectedly elegant curtsey that made her laugh before he took her arm, tucking his hand into the crook of her elbow.
They walked together, an easy, comfortable feeling in the air and when they reached his door, Adelia stepped back, bowing like Rowan usually did. "My lord, your residence."
He laughed, dipping into another curtsey, pretending to take hold of skirts he wasn't wearing as though to make them flare elegantly. "My thanks, noble lady. I couldn't have asked for better company."
They stood grinning at each other and, emboldened and encouraged by the entire morning, Adelia found herself asking, "May I hug you?"
Rowan readily opened his arms, answering near immediately, "Of course."
She stepped forward with a relieved, glad smile. His arms closed around her, seeming to gather her into a gentle embrace and she pressed her cheek to his chest as she held him close. He wasn't warm and he had no heartbeat, but he smelled of warm fires and ink and parchment and he was one of the safest people she knew.
It was one of the best hugs she had ever gotten.
"Sleep well," she said quietly when she pulled back a moment later, his hands on her shoulders, she found her fingertips lingering at his sides, before she let go. "I will see you later?"
"Most certainly, have a good day," he answered and reached for his door without looking away from her.
They smiled at each other one more time before he entered his rooms, closing the door softly. Turning on her tiptoes, her skirts slightly flaring around her ankles, Adelia left with a bright, happy smile on her face.
Instead of returning to her work right away, however, she went to visit Sorceress Iva both to ask her if she was willing to teleport her friends over for the party at the end of the month and to ask if the crystal Alexzander had given her had revealed anything more to her yet.
"Of course I don't mind fetching your friends," the sorceress said. She was wearing clothes of gleaming, glittering gold and shimmering azure today, like the sun and ocean had decided to wrap around her and bring out the beauty of the older woman, her dark skin dusted with a few golden freckles that glittered on her cheeks.
Her expression turned a bit miffed the next moment. "I don't understand this stone, not yet, at least. There is something unnatural about it and yet it is not enchanted nor is it a piece that got removed from an ancient relic. Though I am currently wondering if he managed to get his hands on a piece of a warlock."
Adelia thought of the green heartbeat-glow in Lady Miriam's chest and found herself frowning. "What do you mean?"
"Warlocks trade a piece of themselves for power. Some give their eyes, others their souls, others again years of their life, it depends on the creature they're making a pact with." Sorceress Iva frowned. "Though I have never heard of a sunlight warlock, usually they are found by dark and dangerous beings that either are gods themselves or manage to skirt past the notice of the gods to live at the borders between their realms."
That was pretty fascinating, Adelia hadn't known that. Perhaps she should indeed make use of Lady Miriam's offer of friendship and conversation to ask her more questions about the Deep and her connection to it.
Sorceress Iva sighed, sounding both intrigued and a little frustrated. "But if he did manage to tear out a warlock's point of power I doubt he would give it away willy nilly. It's not malicious, I tested it too extensively for that, but I also can't figure it out beyond that."
The older woman glanced at her. "Have you heard from Ivan yet?"
"Not yet," Adelia answered. "But he also took some time to answer the last time we reached out to him."
Sorceress Iva snorted. "Believe it or not, but that boy loves company and while he governs his lands well and leads his temples, he also uses every chance he gets to escape his paperwork for an hour or two. No, if he's not answered yet he's dealing with something more important."
Adelia couldn't help but frown. "I will extend an offer of aid, just in case," she decided after a moment. She did like Lord Ivan and his sun-goddess brightness and his easy cheer and casual, powerful fierceness, but beyond that it also would be good to foster positive relations with the other warlords.
"Let me know if I can help in any way," Sorceress Iva answered. "And let me know once Ivan answers, I'll make sure to set aside my other experiments when he visits so we can look at this mystery together."
A sensible request and Adelia was only too happy to agree. She returned to her rooms to write Lord Ivan another letter, before she penned invitations to her friends for the upcoming party. She let them know that Sorceress Iva was willing to pick them up, in case they worried about the long journey to the Wilds.
She was reasonably certain that her friends' parents wouldn't forbid them from attending, if only to avoid angering the very warlord King Harold was so deeply fond of.
Adelia hoped to lift Katrina's spirits, as well, and offer her a night of distractions.
Afterwards, she looked at Lady Miriam's stone for a long moment. She had only been half joking about inviting the pirate warlord, for she would like to see the other woman again, and she would also like to extend an invitation to Lady Iris, as well, even if Rowan was likely going to do the same.
Adelia decided on reaching out to Lady Miriam first. She penned another invitation before she fetched the stone Lady Miriam had given her and approached her washbasin. She filled it with water and gently placed the stone within, carefully disturbing the water as little as possible.
As soon as she withdrew her hand, a drop falling from her fingertips to ripple across the surface, she watched as the water seemed to fill with a deep, green darkness, as though a piece of the endless ocean had gotten carved out and placed before her, the stone giving off an impossible, black glow.
"Hello?" Adelia called out carefully after a moment. She flinched back in surprise when she heard a sudden crack and a loud, metallic twang.
"Oh shite, my bad!" a boyish voice that was decidedly not Lady Miriam called out. "You that fancy lady from the main land? Just a sec, I'll get the capt'n!"
She heard light steps rush away and she peered into the bowl, but it seemed too small to allow her to see what was going on on the other side. She should probably invest in a bigger bowl. A minute later she heard the confident, steady stride of Lady Miriam, followed by her voice.
"Adelia, how lovely to hear from you so soon!" the woman called out, a smile audible as she spoke. "What can I help you with my dear?"
"We're planning to hoist a party in the keep the day of the next full moon," Adelia answered. "I would like to extend an invitation to you, if you'd like to attend?"
"Of course I'll be there," Lady Miriam answered, sounding delighted. "Is there a set time at which I should arrive?"
"I have a written invitation here," Adelia answered. "I could send it to you if you'd like?"
"Put it into the water and hold on to it until you feel a tug," Lady Miriam said. "It will arrive safe and sound on the other side."
Blinking in surprise, Adelia decided to do as the other woman had suggested, even if a part of her balked at the idea of drenching the invitation. She carefully putting it into the water and to her surprise the invitation didn't get wet at all, remaining crisp and dry and a moment later it was tugged from between her fingers, vanishing entirely.
"My, your handwriting is rather gorgeous," Lady Miriam mused as Adelia heard the rustling crinkle of paper being unfolded. "My crew could learn a thing or two from you. They're always writing like they're in the middle of a storm, it's barely legible."
Adelia couldn't help but laugh and after a moment it sounded like Lady Miriam was folding the invitation up again as she answered, "I shall be there. Is there anything else you wanted to talk about?"
Adelia hesitated for just a moment before she forged on, "I know that Rowan is a vampire."
Lady Miriam hummed, sounded darkly and sharply delighted. "I knew you would figure it out. My apologies for not telling you directly. It was not my secret to spill, especially since Rowan isn't one of those horrid blood suckers that deserve to get staked by silver or roasted by the sun. I was of the opinion that he ought to tell you himself."
The warlord paused briefly, before she added, her voice more solemn, "Though I would understand if me keeping quiet made me less trustworthy in your eyes."
Adelia was quiet for a moment, taking the time to properly think things over and Lady Miriam waited patiently and quietly. Ever so faintly Adelia could hear the creaking of wood from beyond the bowl and the steady, downright muffled crash of waves. The sound of a ship at sea.
"I will decide that going forward," Adelia answered after a moment, daring to be honest in a way she usually only was around Katrina and Izabel. An honesty she was starting to share with Rowan as well.
"That is perfectly acceptable," Lady Miriam agreed. "Now, if there is nothing else, please excuse me, I have to go back to my crew and I want to show them what proper penmanship looks like."
"Is your handwriting not up to par?" Adelia found herself asking and Lady Miriam laughed, the sound raspy and of pure mirth.
"My dear, my writing is worse than theirs. I will see you soon, don't hesitate to reach out if you need anything and I will do my best to be of aid."
"Have a good day," Adelia answered and a moment later the water in the bowl cleared, the stone ceasing to glow. She reached in to remove it and she carefully dried it off, though it still felt wet anyway. Magic really was a strange thing.
Putting the stone back in its spot, she sat down at her desk to write an invitation to Lady Iris.
With the letter written to her satisfaction, Adelia handed it and the one for Lord Ivan to a servant to be given to Sorceress Iva to be sent out at her earliest convenience. With those things taken care of, Adelia returned to her duties, answering letters and giving advice to a visiting mayor who was struggling with two feuding guilds.
Lunch was eaten with Steward Lambrecht and afterwards, he waved her with him, showing her to the new office he had prepared for her. It was as large as Rowan's, with her work already transferred, something the servants had likely taken care of while she had been busy with her meal.
Ledgers were neatly shelved in the large bookshelf and more empty ones were waiting for her use, neat stacks of paper filled her drawers and everything she could possibly need was in place.
A thick, warm rug covered the floor and the large windows behind the desk showed a beautiful view of the snow covered landscape.
"It is wonderful, thank you," she said with a smile and Steward Lambrecht looked quite satisfied, a calm contentedness to him.
Steward Lambrecht left and she wrapped up the rest of their work and by then, Adelia received an answering letter from Lord Ivan, accompanied with a little wooden instant-teleportation disk she could place on a shelf, so she could send her responses to him directly from now on, without having to bother Sorceress Iva about it.
In his letter Lord Ivan sounded rather grim. He told her about more sun goddess temples shattering into crystal, this time in Lord Cynar's domain. He had examined some of the crystal pieces, but had been unable to make any headway.
He was currently organizing a bit celebration at his temple, for his goddess had called on him to spread light in her name after all the tragedy and darkness and he would be regretfully busy for a couple of days. He would have dropped those preparations if she hadn't asked him to soothe the wounded and grieving and for all that he wanted to really take a look at the crystal he needed to care for his people and his goddess first.
He would be able to properly get away from his lands for an in-depth examination of the crystal in ten days, he said and asked her when she could meet him.
When she spoke with Steward Lambrecht about the timetable in around two weeks, he suggested sending Lord Ivan an invite to the party, as well.
"He can arrive in the morning," Steward Lambrecht suggested. "That should give the two of you and Iva plenty of time to poke at the stone before you're expected to show up."
He gave her a small smile. "If anything unforseen happens while you are busy that day, I can deal with it myself easily enough." His smile got a slightly proud edge. "I have been organizing all of Master Rowan's parties in the past, after all. Do leave it to me."
She couldn't help but chuckle softly, a bit of subtle tension about the planning and the sun-crystal easing out of her. "Then I will gladly count on you. Thank you, truly."
"Of course," Steward Lambrecht said, looking like he was sitting up a little taller in his seat. "Now, if that is all, I believe it is time for me to usher you out of my office so I can go and plan our shopping so we have everything delivered in time for the party. We will see to it that everyone is well fed."
Taking Lord Ivan's letter with her, Adelia excused herself to return to her new office, penning a swift answer to the warlord, along with a formal invitation. She carefully placed both on the wooden disk, only to gasp softly as the letters vanished into a shower of golden sparks that themselves faded to nothing. Well, that was quite pretty.
It made her wonder if magic could be replicated with clockwork art in some way. Or perhaps, if her inventions could be enchanted like the boxes that allowed her to speak freely with her friends. It made her wonder what else she could create if magic was involved.
She'd have to speak with Sorceress Iva about it when she had a free moment to see if any of her budding ideas had any merit.
With last of her duties now attended to, Adelia found herself back in her new workshop, sketches spread out on one table as she carefully assembled the smallest clock she could make on another.
Now that she could be herself, now that she could do what she loved most without fear or reproach, she couldn't stay away from it even if she had tried. She wanted to sink into this and create and create until her mind no longer could come up with anything more.
She imagined that this must be what flying felt like.
*.*.*
Adelia found herself so wrapped up things and the now freely pursued joys of her life, that she nearly forgot about the opera invitation Lady Iris had extended to her. Nearly.
Thankfully, she had arranged her schedule ahead of time and she found herself selecting a dress that she hoped was neither too overdressed nor would leave her looking like she didn't care. Because she cared quite a bit.
The lessons her parents had instilled within her, about her public image, were louder than ever as she picked a necklace next, matching the little sapphires to the blue and silver dress she was wearing.
She hadn't touched any of her green and gold gowns or dresses since her arrival, though by now she was certain that Rowan wouldn't care if she were to wear the colors of her father's house.
Married ladies were supposed to show their loyalty to their husbands, after all, to adhere to their ideals and desires. To wear their colors and represent their ideas and opinions.
Rowan never demanded anything of her, never expected her to be clad in red and gold. He didn't tell her to do anything for him, really. She was the one who had no desire to wear green and gold, not at this point in time at least.
Maybe she could adjust the dresses, add a bit of colorful embroidery to reclaim what she associated with her parents. A little pink to fill out the golden outline of flowers, some dark red along the bodice that would resemble rubies. Or blood. She couldn't help but like that image, a little hint of red along half hidden thorns embroidered up the bodice.
As if she could make herself a little dangerous that way, could show that she had survived her father's cruel demands and her mother's silent compliance. As if she could make herself more than a golden flower ripe for the picking, to be plucked from green leaves, helpless to do anything but hope that the hands that held her wouldn't deem fit to crush her.
She'd rather sting the hands that reached for her without her leave, to prick fingers and spill bloods if anyone dared to be careless with her.
As she got ready for a night out with Lady Iris, she couldn't help but glance at the letter boxes. Izabel and she remained worried about Katrina and how quiet their friend had gotten. Furthermore, Adelia had noticed the way the the letters had gotten folded, as though someone had read them before sealing them shut. Someone who didn't fold the papers as carefully as her friend.
Katrina's parents hadn't read her letters in years, saying that they trusted their daughter to be sensible. Had something happened?
It worried Adelia and she couldn't wait for the party to arrive, for her friends had both agreed to come. Izabel had mentioned that her parents had been anything but happy about that, but they didn't wish to insult King Harold's best friend by snubbing his wife's invitation.
That Izabel, Katrina and Adelia had been dear friends for years, that they might wish to continue being friends and to occasionally see each other, seemed to be a mere afterthought in that conversation. It made the coal of anger that still lingered in her chest flare and burn a little deeper into her flesh.
Still, Adelia was glad that her friends would come visit, that she could hug them and see their faces once more. That she could hold their hands and show them around and usher them into her rooms to giggle together over this and that, relaxed and flush with comforting peace and a calm, quiet sort of contentedness.
She glanced at the mirror one last time, ensuring she looked presentable, before she stepped out of her rooms. Murky daylight fell through the windows as evening settled across the land and a grey cover of clouds leeched more sunlight even before the sun was gone.
By the time she reached the entrance hall, Lady Iris had just arrived.
The warlord looked quite dashing, with elegant, black, knee-high boots and black pants that held the faintest shimmer, like a raven's feathers. Lady Iris wore a black shirt with an ivory vest overtop, which was embroidered with white-gold thread. Her long, tight curls were braided today and decorated in silver clasps and beads, a dusting of silver-white across her cheeks.
She looked like she had gotten kissed by winter, reminding her of snow glittering in a beam of moonlight, surrounded by a night-black, frosty forest.
"You look wondrous," she found herself saying and Lady Iris grinned, lifting her arms to show off shimmering jewelry on her fingers and wrists, turning once as though to display the grandeur of her clothing.
"Why, thank you ever so much," Lady Iris said and then smiled at her. "You look beautiful as well, Adelia. Well then, shall we? I fear if we linger too long Lambrecht or even Rowan might show up and then we'll start chatting and if that happens I will forget the time."
While there was such a thing as being fashionably late back home – never later than the king, of course – it was frowned upon to show up to performances after they had already begun. No one wanted to have a play or music piece interrupted because of another's tardiness.
Lady Iris offered her arm with a grin and Adelia took it with an answering smile. They left the keep together, a gentle bit of snowfall drifting down from the sky and the air was frosty and cold. Lady Iris's mage waited for them, poking at one of the lights with a thoughtful expression.
"Alb," Lady Iris called out, her mage startling and turning around. "To the opera, please."
"Certainly." They swept into a greeting bow, shimmering, embroidered robes billowing out for a moment with a little more flair than the movement should have allowed and Adelia was willing to bet that a minor enchantment was at play.
Sorcerer Alb clapped their hands together and the snow around them rose suddenly in a massive wave, Adelia clutching Lady Iris's arm subconsciously, startled, and then the waves of snow fell over her and she instinctively squeezed her eyes shut, only to feel warmth envelop her.
Laughter and faint music greeting her ears and she blinked her eyes open to see that they were standing in the entrance hall of a grand opera.
"I'll be back in four hours," Sorcerer Alb said, clapped once more and looked like they vanished into themself, before they were gone.
"Apologies, Alb's teleportation always feels a bit like getting swallowed by your surroundings," Lady Iris said. "It differs from mage to mage. Personally, I think that Iva's teleporting is far more gentle, but don't tell Alb that, it will hurt their feelings."
She said it with a joking quality, but Adelia nodded still. She had no desire to compare mages, when she was incapable of wielding so much as a speck of magic herself. Mages and sorcerers were all very powerful and skilled across various areas.
Adelia glanced around curiously, at the floors and pillars of the entrance hall made of polished marble, thick, dark-red carpets bordered in gold muffling countless steps as visitors streamed inside.
Portraits hung on the walls, depicting fantastical scenes and various performers. In between the paintings enchanted lanterns were mounted on the walls to spread a fireless glow and flowers and small statues were placed on thin podiums all around the walls of the entrance hall.
Three grand chandeliers hung above, illuminating everything along with the mage lanterns in a soft, gentle, buttery-golden glow.
Numerous well clad people were arriving and walking through the front entrance, the cold somehow staying out even though the three big wing doors were kept wide open to reveal a snow covered walkway, carriages waiting in a neat line to drop off whoever they had brought.
A handful of other people appeared in the space near Adelia and Lady Iris, the spot marked for teleportation and Lady Iris gently led her away so they wouldn't risk having someone bump into them when they appeared out of thin air.
Adelia was glad to see that she had dressed just fine for the opera. Everyone else looked to have arrived in finery, wearing glittering dresses and waistcoats, jewelry glinting on necks and wrists and hanging from ears.
"I got us great seats," Lady Iris said as she led Adelia through the entrance hall, past politely conversing groups and smiling couples that were on their way to their own seats.
Everything here looked to be for the gentry, for the well bred folk of polite society, and Adelia couldn't help and be quietly surprised. She would have thought that an opera in the Wilds would carry the same rough charm as the keep and Ravenburg did, but this place was easily on par with the opera in the capital back home.
It made her aware of the fact that she hadn't really seen much of the Wilds outside of her new home. Mayhaps, if the nightmares could be harnessed for such a task, she and Rowan could go on trips through their lands and her husband could show her more sights and more places.
"Where is this place?" Adelia asked and Lady Iris grinned at her, all sharp fangs and joyful pride.
"In my lands. We're in my second-largest city right now," she answered. "Oh, remind me to show you to other places around here the next time you visit, I have two art galleries and an ancient castle that I believe you would like."
"That sounds like a great idea," Adelia answered and felt herself perk up a little at the idea.
The seats Lady Iris led them to were on a private little balcony, overlooking the entire stage from a near perfect vantage point. Adelia watched as the orchestra finished fiddling with some things as they waited for the performance to start, while the other visitors slowly sought out their own seats, a low, downright gentle rumble of murmurs and shuffling steps filling the large room.
The walls were decorated here, as well, gold gently glimmering along white marble and red satin curtains surrounded all the little balconies to grand further comfort by ensuring no one had to see the person on the balconies beside them. Only the stage was perfectly visible.
"You seemed a bit pensive earlier," Lady Iris spoke up as Adelia sat down beside her after having peered around. "Is everything alright?"
Adelia hadn't spoken much about her worries for her friend. Rowan knew, she had aired out her troubled heart over dinner one evening and he had been quite the kind listener. Though, not even he had been able to offer a solution to the problem, since the questions she hid in her letters to Katrina went unanswered.
All Adelia could do at this point was wait until she could finally see Katrina again and ask her directly, away from prying eyes and ears.
"One of my friends seems unwell," she answered, her brows furrowing slightly. "Her letters have been... quiet. Subdued."
"Has she been struggling with something recently?" Lady Iris asked, growing more solemn and focused and Adelia found herself spilling everything she knew. Lady Iris was frowning as she listened and once Adelia was done, she asked, "Would her parents force her into marriage?"
"She does not have a choice," Adelia said, quieter and softer. "Much like I didn't, even if I am glad for my husband now. A lady's place is in a man's household, after all." Her voice was faintly bitter as she said it.
Lady Iris's eyebrows rose. "That sounds like you're considered possessions." When Adelia merely inclined her head, she leaned forward a little. In the gentle light of the lantern above them, the silver-white make-up glittered like kisses of frost. "I could have her kidnapped."
Adelia stared at her new friend, startled, and Lady Iris was quick to reassure her, "With her consent, of course. Alb could smuggle a message to her, they are very good at not leaving any traces behind. The next time your friend leaves her home, I can have some of my friends waiting for her. She could be snagged right up."
"You would get into terrible trouble," Adelia said, though at the same time, there was a strange kind of feeling rising within her. What would Katrina do if she didn't have to bow to her family's wishes? However, stealing a lady away was not so easily done. "King Harold would retaliate as soon as he heard your name."
Lady Iris gave her a reassuring smile. "I am not taking your friend as a warlord of the Wilds," she said. "A group of unaffiliated bandits will do it, or so eyewitnesses will say. And once they have her, they will vanish off of the face of the earth."
Adelia felt that kindling kernel of hope die out again. "She would not agree to leading a life where she'll have to hide, to never be seen again." And if word got out where she was, it would spell trouble for everyone involved.
It would see people punished, Katrina's parents first of all. Even if her parents would be innocent, King Harold wouldn't care as long as he got his pound of flesh for being deceived and his kingdom stolen from.
Because the gentry allowed a man to murder his wives, but it would not allow said wives to run from him. She hated it, but she couldn't force her friend into a lifetime of hiding, either. At least not without speaking with her first and talking at length about what Katrina wanted to do.
She wouldn't be another person who took Katrina's choice from her, who treated her like a doll to drag around and put in places her friend looked prettiest in.
"There are other countries she could go," Lady Iris said, then she leaned back into her seat with a soft sigh. "But I understand if he would say no. I grew up here in the Wilds, I've never known another place and I wouldn't want to leave, either."
Lady Iris was quiet for a moment and the light dimmed, heralding the beginning of the performance. She nudged Adelia's knee with her own and whispered, "If she wants a safe place to hide, though, don't hesitate to let me know. My keep is warded against magic, much like Rowan's, so no one would be able to track her down while she's in it. It may not be a forever hiding place, but I would offer her sanctuary for however long she needs."
"Thank you," Adelia whispered back, feeling genuinely touched at Lady Iris's offer. An offer without the unspoken expectation that she be owed a favor in return.
Talking with Lady Iris hadn't solved the problem, but Adelia still felt a little more settled. She felt better to know she had plans in place should Katrina need them and she was glad to know she could count on more people than her husband and their staff if trouble arose.
As the curtains pulled open, revealing a gorgeous sight straight out of a fairy tale book, she found that her worries had quieted enough for this moment to let her immerse herself fully into a story about a human lady and a fae prince.
A wondrous, if slightly strange, a little darker and sharper love story than the ones she was used to from back home but one she appreciated all the more for it. It was a story of trust and love and deep friendship and fantastical, clever foes.
There was a half an hour long break in the performance that Lady Iris and she used to sample various drinks and foods on offer and Adelia found herself delighted by the smallest, cutest little cakes she had ever seen, that had the most delicate sugar butterflies perched on top.
When the performance resumed, she was all too eager to return to her seat, Lady Iris grinning happily, glad that she now had a friend to share this passion of hers with.
The story ended with a softness and a hopefulness Adelia hadn't expected and she found herself tearing up as the couple embraced, their friends dancing around them before drawing to a stop and throwing petals in the air.
The moment the curtains fell and the lights returned to full brightness once more, she clapped as enthusiastically as everyone else, loud cheers and whistles rising from the audience, a far more unrestrained display of joy compared to the measured clapping and delighted murmuring she would have heard back home.
Then again, the gentry had to remain perfectly poised and elegant at all times and freely expressed joy was reserved for private moments among friends, or when the young men snuck out to visit taverns and theaters, sometimes bringing lady friends or siblings along if the parents were particularly lenient.
"So," Lady Iris said as they headed back towards the entrance hall. "I take it you'll come here again with me?"
"Gladly," Adelia answered, a happy grin on her face. "Any time, ask and I will agree."
Lady Iris laughed, joyful and happy and wrapped an arm around Adelia's shoulders to pull her closer for a moment. Sorcerer Alb was already waiting for them when they reached the entrance hall and whisked them away, the carpet rising to fold over them and this time it was not so startling and strange now that Adelia knew what to expect.
A flurry of snow greeted them and Lady Iris bid her goodnight at the steps of the keep.
"I will see you at the party," she said and Adelia nodded with a smile, before Lady Iris and Sorcerer Alb vanished, a few disturbed snowflakes spinning through the air in their wake.
She rushed back inside to escape the cold and she headed straight for Rowan's office, finding him working diligently. He looked up at her entrance and she must've looked as flush with joy as she felt, for his smile was warm and glad grin and it was the most beautiful one she had ever seen.
"I take it you had a great evening?" he asked and she sat down on the chair beside his, now permanently a part of his office so she could join him at his desk.
"The best," she answered and his smile widened, revealing his fangs and his dark gaze glittered with happiness for her.
"Good," he said softly. "Tell me about it?"
She found herself recounting the entire story, gesturing to try and describe the actors, the singing, the music and the various designs of the stage across the play.
He listened, his gaze warm and his smile softly happy and Adelia basked in the afterglow of the evening and of the most beautiful and touching performance she had ever seen.
She felt deeply and truly happy and when she fell asleep she dreamed of dancing through a cove of trees, the air shimmering with magic, Rowan's hands gently holding hers and his steps silent, his eyes red and his smile fanged.
*.*.*
Lord Ivan arrived on the morning of the party with glimmering sparks of golden light, no shirt in sight yet again and he was about as cheerful and bright as the last time Adelia had seen him despite the tragedy the other warlord had been dealing with.
It would have been the height of scandal and strangeness for her to be alone with a half clad man as she led the way to her workshop, but here it was hardly anything to bat an eye at.
Sorceress Iva had handed over the sunshine crystal in the past days after she had run exhaustive and extensive experiments and had gotten no results. Adelia had kept the stone in her workshop since in a wooden chest, making sure it remained securely wrapped.
Lord Ivan looked very curious as she opened the door to her workshop and then he brightened once he realized what she was working with.
"You do clockwork art," he breathed out, gaze bright and downright glimmering with hints of golden, glowing magic. "Please tell me you'll be willing to work with me from time to time? I've been so very eager to see who far magic and clockwork creations can be combined or one even replacing the other."
Adelia felt herself brighten a little in return. She had been wondering that herself, though with how busy things had been, she hadn't been able to sit down and discuss things with Sorceress Iva so far. "I do believe I am open to discussions."
He laughed, bright and toothy and clapped his hands together. "Marvelous, oh Cynar will be so glad to get me out of his hair. My beloved is wonderfully patient but also holds no interest in playing with magic whatsoever, having me talk his ear off must be terribly dull at this point."
"I am certain he would disagree with you on that," Adelia answered and he grinned at her like she had hit the nail on the head.
She picked up the cloth wrapped crystal from its chest then and unwrapped it. Lord Ivan's brows immediately rose sharply, his gaze sharpening and all jovial lightness vanished.
"Now, what has Alexzander done here," he mused to himself as he stepped forward, all sinuous grace now, reminding her of a prowling mountain lion. "May I?"
She held out her hand and he plucked the stone from the cloth that covered her fingers and turned it between his, his focus a downright palpable thing in the air. A moment later, the crystal glowed brighter and warmth spilled into the space between them.
Lord Ivan inhaled sharply and then exhaled slowly in a rather controlled manner. His expression was a complicated thing, something between wonderment and something dark that almost looked like vicious anger.
"This feels like my goddess," he whispered, his free hand rising to press over his amulet. "But all I sense from this is grief and pain."
That was something. "Can you tell what it's made from?" she asked and his frown returned. "Alexzander believed it would be harmful to Rowan."
"It would have burned him like real sunlight," Lord Ivan murmured, making Adelia's spine stiffen. She had feared as much, but hearing it confirmed awoke the coal of anger in her chest and she was almost startled at the vicious protectiveness that rose within her.
Lord Ivan's frown deepened. "What was Alexzander planning, handing this over?"
"Nothing good," Adelia found herself saying, voice coming out a little sharper than intended and Lord Ivan barked out a brief, humorless laugh.
"He reeks of vileness," he agreed. "My goddess stirs in his presence, which does not happen often, let me tell you." He turned the crystal between his fingertips once more and all at once his expression lost its darkness and turned into something calmer and more thoughtful.
"Say, how much of your time may I steal before the party?" he asked. "I'm having some ideas regarding this stone, if you're up for it."
"Certainly," Adelia answered. "I have some time." She stepped aside to retrieve paper and quills, setting down pots of ink and Lord Ivan immediately plopped down on the seat beside her, pulling a piece of paper close.
He was running through possible ways the stone could have come into existence when Sorceress Iva showed up and the three of them sat together for two hours, only to come to one conclusion: this stone shouldn't exist.
It wasn't an enchantment, Sorceress Iva could rule that out. Lord Ivan confirmed that it wasn't a piece from a warlock, because ripping out that kind of magic from another person required a deal with the being they were getting said power from.
None of the powerful forces in this world gave up what belonged to them without being promised a bigger reward and even then most of them would refuse anyway.
There was no creature in all the books of the world that was made of sunshine, either, so it wasn't some sort of strange eye or scale or claw.
"I will commune with my goddess," Lord Ivan said when they had to stop, all of them looking frustrated. "Might I take the stone with me to my temple? I will be sure to return it right afterwards."
"Certainly," Adelia agreed easily enough and Sorceress Iva got up, excusing herself with a thoughtful expression.
Adelia and Lord Ivan said in silence for a moment, before he turned to her and suddenly his expression turned into something brighter, his usual liveliness alighting again. "So," he said. "If you aren't terribly busy right now, would you mind discussing your work with me?"
Adelia found herself smiling and they set their theories of the stone aside to grab new papers and as she started to show how her creations were put together, Lord Ivan showed her how he enchanted things.
His way was different from Sorceress Iva's and less enduring, he mentioned, but Adelia couldn't help the way her mind sparked and soon they were both scribbling on the same papers, scrawling notes on top of each other as they theorized how enchantments and clockwork creations could be joined.
It wasn't like mages and sorcerers hadn't already tried, Lord Ivan mentioned, but the movements of the clockwork creation ruined enchantments every time, for magic was soaked up by something stagnant, something that didn't change form and end up tearing apart what the enchantment was meant to do.
Considering the size of the scrawling sigils and runes something as simple as a sliding panel already made enchantments fizz out because the alignment got shifted into a nonsense pattern.
Before she knew it, she got fully absorbed by ideas and sketches, by diagrams and teaching and learning.
Lord Ivan was as eager to understand what she was doing as she was to understand what he was doing and she only realized how much time had passed when someone knocked at the door.
Rowan poked his head in after she called out and he blinked, taking them in, before he laughed.
"Oh my, you are two peas in a pod," he chuckled as he entered. "Ivan, must I worry that you will steal my wife away?"
"She is brilliant," Lord Ivan answered in a bright grin, gesturing at the table covered in notes and ideas and something that resembled a distant possibility of a working mechanism. He turned back to Adelia, something sun-bright in his blue eyes. "I must demand that we be friends."
Adelia couldn't help but laugh as Rowan came to a stop behind her, his hands settling onto her shoulders, gentle and big and while they lacked warmth, his touch was welcome and pleasant all the same as she leaned back against him, comfortable and relaxed.
"Agreed," she answered and Rowan leaned forward.
"Then I demand that you bring Cynar around when you steal more of my wife's precious time. Your partner has been making new paints, I heard?" he said and Lord Ivan's expression filled with pride and love at once.
"He is brilliant," he sighed. "You should see what he made. His carvings now glimmer and shimmer as though I enchanted them." Upon seeing the spark of eagerness in Rowan's eyes he grinned. "Looks like the four of us are quite the fitting pair. I'll let him know to bring a little gift basket."
"Lovely," Rowan said, all satisfaction and eager anticipation, before he ducked his head to meet Adelia's gaze. "I've come to let you know that your guests will arrive at any moment and the staff is ready to let loose."
Adelia raised a hand to cover one of his. "Thank you," she said and he gave her shoulders the gentlest squeeze before letting go so she could get up. She turned to Lord Ivan, who rose as well, gesturing at the notes and sketches. "Shall I tidy these away until your next visit?"
"Yes, please," he answered. "Though, I do will make copies once we have something more substantial. Well then, I'll go and find Iva, she's always such a delight and I've been so curious how her latest experiment turned out."
With those words and a flourish-y little wave he left, humming as he closed the door behind him. Rowan helped Adelia gather everything despite her reassurances that he didn't have to, cleaning quills and putting everything away properly once more.
"Shall we?" he asked, offering his arm and she accepted it with a glad smile, stepping up to his side.
They walked out of her workshop and down the hallway towards the stairs that would lead them to the entrance hall when he spoke up, "You're happy, aren't you? I've noticed that you've been smiling a lot more recently."
"Yes," she answered easily, smiling up at him. "I am happy. More than that I am... I feel peacefully content a lot of days now." She was quiet for a moment, carefully selecting her words. "You are part of that happiness, Rowan," she said, her voice a little softer as they ascended the stairs. "I don't think I could have asked for a better husband."
His smile was honey sweet. "I'm glad," he answered, his voice just as soft as hers. "I do have a request, though." At her curious glance, he said, "May I paint you? I have wished to do so for quite some time, if I'm being honest."
"Of course," she answered, feeling touched. "I'd be honored." Which was when she remembered something she had forgotten all this time, "How is your violin practice coming along?"
He grinned, looking rather proud of himself, "Better and better. I will play for you soon, if you'd like?"
She nodded just as they reached the top of the stairs and they stepped into the entrance hall, just in time for the front doors to get pulled open, to admit their first guests.
Her heart felt like it skipped a painful beat before it began to race, fear creeping through her bones like a flash of frost, all the more terrible after it had been absent from her life for a time now as she stared at Lord Emmertal.
When she registered Katrina at his side, pale and wan and with a terrible, lurking fear in her eyes despite the perfectly sweet and soft smile on her face, her hand tucked into the crook of Lord Emmertal's elbow, Adelia's fear grew teeth.
With a sharp snap it became a ravenous thing as it hungrily went for her heart and burrowed into her stomach. Lord Emmertal smiled at her over Katrina's head, cold and terrible and he lifted his free hand to cover Katrina's on his arm.
All at once, Adelia knew why her friend had grown so quiet, so distant in her letters. All at once, she knew what husband Katrina's parents had chosen for her.
I’m seeing a lot of people saying this post changed their brain chemistry, and as a neuroscientist I wanted to say yes!!! Yes it does!
Wanting something requires dopamine signaling, but liking something doesn’t.
If you have a mental illness/disorder that affects dopamine, you might feel that you don’t want to do the things that you like. You do still like them. You will appreciate having done them.
Let your likes guide you.
(If you want to read more, here’s one experimental paper about it. https://pmc.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/articles/PMC5171207/ This theory called the incentive-sensitization theory was originally created to explain behaviors in addiction but can be applied elsewhere as well)
Rewards are both ‘liked’ and ‘wanted’, and those two words seem almost interchangeable. However, the brain circuitry that mediates the psych
I think I unintentionally do this for knitting! Especially since I am currently working on a version 2 of my blanket and just making a bunch of stockinette squares so not necessity interesting... I don't specifically *want* to knit more squares. But the feeling of moving yarn through my needles is so satisfying and grounding and I like the end result of being able to point to something and say "I made that".
Exercise and cleaning are big ones to apply this to intentionally tho - I rarely want to exercise or clean but I like having a clean space and energy. (Although it * feels* like you exercise more when you have energy, the causation good the other way - you move so you have more energy so you can move more. ... I remind myself whenever I'm "too tired"/ "feeling lazy" ... While balancing it with self-compassion for high fatigue days...)
Adelia mulled things over all the way to Ravenburg. The blood had been delivered for Lord Morrow, not Sorceress Iva or the deliverers surely would have said so. Had it been for the sorceress, Adelia wouldn't have questioned it, magic required all kinds of strange or unusual ingredients, after all.
What did Lord Morrow need all that blood for? Was he secretly, deep down, one of those lunatics who believed in eternal life so long as they bathed in the blood of a virgin at every dawn and dusk? No, surely not...
He was a good lord, from what she was able to discern and his people cared for him as much as he cared for them, but... did she really know him enough to be able to tell for sure whether or not he had some dark secret hidden away?
Steward Lambrecht at the very least had to know what was going in and the people who had delivered the blood might be informed as well. Someone had to have both gotten the blood from someone and filled it into those containers.
Adelia carded her fingers through the mare's mane, trying to sort her thoughts and figure out what to do. She could ignore what had just happened, only... it was blood. And if blood had been in every container, like she suspected, there was a lot of it. She didn't know what to do.
Her racing thoughts got interrupted as soon as she reached the first field and a farmer called out to her, waving his hat. She waved back, forcing a smile on her face and after that she met more and more people, getting distracted from her thoughts for a little while. Most of the people she met seemed to be in a good enough mood and even the grumpy looking ones quietly and politely inclined their heads at her.
She returned each greeting and soon the patient mare plodded through the gates of Ravenburg as she headed towards the market square. It took some asking around until she was directed to a smith specialized in delicate metalwork.
To her surprise it was a pair of married women who manned the smithy, something that would have caused quite a scandal back home. Not that Adelia personally cared, so long as people were happy, that was all that truly mattered.
The women were friendly and welcoming and happily listened as Adelia listed off what she needed.
"We can get ya everythin' in a couple a days," one of them answered. "My uncle is gonna come stay with us by the end of the week to help out, so we'll have your order ready in, say, ten days?"
"That would be lovely, thank you," Adelia said, knowing full well that ten days for the amount of things she had requested was a very generous timeframe.
The woman, tall and muscular and wheat-blond, grinned. "Lovely, my wife's gonna take care of the business, I'll get right to work. Good day, m'lady!"
With those words and a rough but earnest little bow, the woman stepped into the back to select the metal she was going to work with. Her wife stepped forward, a round, shorter woman who was just as muscular. They got to an agreement on the amount owed quickly enough and Adelia paid everything upfront, saying that she'd come to pick everything up rather than have it delivered to the keep.
As she left the shop, another store caught her eye and she ducked into the jewelry shop across the way. There were a number of beautiful trinkets, made of metal and wood and bone, delicately painted or decorated with gems and crystals. It was easy enough to find something for her friends and when she spotted a little brooch in the shape of a golden violin, tiny rubies glimmering on the neck and body of the instrument, she paused for a long moment.
It looked like something that Lord Morrow might like. She thought of the blood spilled on cobblestone and she thought of the man who had worked so hard for his lands, who had done his best to make her feel welcome.
After a moment she picked it up and paid for everything, the clerk looking visibly proud to have served the lady of the keep.
On the way out of the market square, her gaze snagged on the book store and she slowed the horse, hesitated and then approached swiftly, leaving the mare tied up outside.
"Welcome back," Miss Chadha called out from a little ladder as she restocked a top of a shelf. "Do you need help finding something specific or would you like to look around first?"
"I'll take a look around, thank you," Adelia answered and the woman sent her a sunny smile, before focusing back on her work.
The book on monsters was just where it had been last time. Steward Lambrecht had said that he would look into getting it back soon, but... after this morning, there was a sharp niggling in her stomach, a gut feeling she couldn't shake.
Did Lord Morrow perhaps have a monster somewhere in the keep? One that drank blood? She hadn't seen every part of her new home yet and there was a good chance a keep this old had secret doors and passages and perhaps even entire rooms hidden away somewhere.
Either way, she had the money and she wanted to look for answers, too impatient to wait for however long it took until Steward Lambrecht got the book back. She pulled the book from its place on the shelf and took a look at the rest of the shop.
To her surprise she found some music sheets by the scroll cabinet, as well. Picking out two for the violin that Lord Morrow should be able to learn just fine, she headed for the counter, where Miss Chadha was currently opening a crate. She must've gotten a new delivery right this morning.
The very first book within the crate caught Adelia's eye and before she knew it, she had made a small noise and Miss Chadha looked up, a knowing smile curling in the corners of her mouth.
"Shall I add this one to your purchases?" she asked, lifting the book on rare and precious plants of the Wilds.
"Yes, please," Adelia answered and set down what she had already selected. "I will take these, as well, if you please."
"Lovely choices," Miss Chadha said. "Would you like a bookmark for them?"
She gestured to a little wooden box at the end of the counter that held a number of silk ribbons, some plain and simple, some carefully embroidered and others painted. There was one where a dragon stood in front of a unicorn, their heads bent towards each other so they were touching noses.
"I'll take this one," Adelia decided, picking out the dragon-and-unicorn ribbon and she swiftly paid for everything once Miss Chadha had the purchases wrapped in a simple cloth to keep everything safe in the saddlebag.
"Have a wonderful day," Miss Chadha called as Adelia left her store. "And don't hesitate to come back, I get new books regularly!"
Adelia called an agreement over her shoulder and waved in parting, before she headed for the mare waiting patiently for her. Stowing the purchases away, she left the market, stopping only once more along the way to buy soap that smelled pretty amazing.
The ride back to the keep passed easily, with people stopping to wave at her and many calling out cheerful greetings. The mess in the courtyard was neatly gone when she arrived and not even a hint of the blood remained.
Taking her purchases, she thanked the stablehand who took the horse from her hands and she headed back into the keep. She met a few more of the staff along the way, everyone friendly and busy as ever.
Adelia walked up to her rooms with slightly brisker steps and set her purchases aside to check the letter boxes Sorceress Iva had given her. To her pleasant surprise she found letters waiting for her.
They were intricately folded, so the corners had to rip a little when the letters were opened by anyone but the one they were intended for. Even if someone folded them back up precisely, it was still visible if one knew where to look. However, Adelia had no idea if the letters had been read by someone before her friends had folded them.
Her friends' parents might have taken a look at them, but her friends had good families and Adelia was certain that, aside from the first one or two letters, they would soon stop snooping.
The letters her friend had sent were carefully written, polite and full of friendly well wishes and congratulations about her new home and husband. Everything looked perfectly fine on the surface and Adelia knew her friends had taken every precaution possible, in case Lord Morrow was holding on to her letter box and reading her mail before giving the letters to her.
She'd have to reassure them again that no such thing was the case.
Adelia and her friends had developed a way to write or say things so they could discern the true meaning by reading between the lines. Little tricks and certain phrases they had refined over the years. They coupled that with drawings of flowers that conveyed an unspoken message and taking all of that into consideration, it was easy enough to decipher the real meaning of the letters.
Her friends were worried for her, asking if she was alright and well. It made her smile, her heart growing soft. She penned answers right away and this time it was easier to write them than previously when she had still felt so very lost and adrift and worried. When she had half feared that her letters would be read by someone before they reached her friends.
She told them about the friendly staff and the fog surrounding the keep, the nightmares and the things she had learned about the Wilds. Before she knew it, she had filled an entire page in her neat, small hand, talking about the accomplishments of Lord Morrow and what they planned to do next.
They, because he wanted her to be part of this. Because he had made clear he valued her opinion and wanted her to be happy. He was a little strange, yes, and there was something about him that she couldn't put her finger on and he had glamoured fangs and weird nails, and he needed blood for something, but he was also incredibly kind and caring.
He didn't bother to hide it, either, she realized as she sat back and looked down at the letters she had written.
Lord Morrow carried a great pride for his lands in his heart and his eyes lit up at every accomplishment he had shown her over the past days, telling her how his people had rallied and worked together to help make his ideas come true, and, even if they had been sceptical at first, how they had given his suggestions an earnest try.
Without them being on board, he would have had a far harder time helping his lands recover and grow more prosperous.
It made the spilled blood this morning all the stranger for it and she tapped her fingertips onto her desk, frowning to herself. Should she simply ask him over dinner? He might have a very reasonable explanation and she'd rather feel a little foolish for worrying over nothing than continue to stew over an easily solvable mystery.
She signed the letters with her name and once the ink was dry she carefully drew cattails and chrysanthemums and lastly a helichrysum along the sides of the letters. That should be enough to let her friends know that she was happy and healthy and doing well.
She wrapped the letters and gifts up and put one half into the box, used one gem, before opening the box and repeating the process with the other. There was a soft hum emitted by the box every time and she grabbed the book on sentient monsters she had bought.
It wasn't quite as thick and hefty as the one about feral monsters that she had found in the library, but it was still substantial. She was about to eagerly open it and start reading when her gaze fell to the book about laws and customs of the Wilds.
She had finished it but she had read it already, but she was on a second read-through to properly remember things and no matter how much she wanted to sate her curiosity and no matter how much she wanted to quell that niggling in her gut, she knew duty always came first.
She spent the rest of the morning and early afternoon to finish the book and when Steward Lambrecht approached her after lunch, asking if she wanted to help him deal with quarreling farmers, she swiftly accompanied him, heart beating a little faster and stronger.
It was the first time she stood in for her husband as a governing party and she wanted to do right by him and his people.
Steward Lambrecht introduced the two men who had a disagreement about their cow pastures, each citing that the other must've stolen land from them, because their pastures were too small for their herds. In fact, both argued that the other's pasture had always been bigger than theirs, which was just plain unfair.
"An old argument, or so I'm told," Steward Lambrecht murmured as the two men briefly and loudly spoke over each other, insisting that the other one was in the wrong without directly talking to each other, frustration openly visible on their rugged faces. "They wish to settle it once and for all."
"Do they own the land?" she asked back just as quietly as the two men stopped and bowed to her, awaiting her verdict while casting each other glares. They looked quite huffy and each man was certain that they were on the right side.
"No, My Lady," he answered. "The land was allotted to them and they pay their taxes in grain and cheese."
Lord Morrow was very fair about his taxes and back when he had rebuilt his lands, he had used the taxes paid for in produce to feed his people while ensuring the farmers themselves would keep enough to feed themselves and their families, as well.
He had adjusted that system over the years and kept adjusting it as needed to ensure that a drought or bad harvest wouldn't ruin farmsteads that didn't have as much to offer as others.
"How many cows do you own?" she asked aloud and the two men straightened quickly, holding their hats between their hands. Their clothes were simple, but sturdy and clean, they had proper boots on their feet and nothing was worn or frayed or even patched.
They each wore a necklace with a symbol of the god they believed in and she felt quietly a little proud that she recognized them. One necklace was a circle with a stylized wolf head in the middle, the symbol of the moon goddess Luna. The other was of the old forest goddess Terra, a stooped woman walking on branching feet.
Most of her father's farmers would have looked far poorer compared to these two, even when they had worn their best clothes. They certainly wouldn't have owned leather boots.
Only a select number of her father's farmers had managed to grow rich enough to afford larger homesteads and a couple of servants to ensure their fields were cultivated and their animals fed and cared for.
Here in the Wilds people were better off, no matter their station.
"Fourteen, m'lady," the farmer with the moon goddess necklace answered, a proud shine to his eyes and he smiled, his well kept beard braided at the sides, the ends of the braids kept closed with wooden beads. "Did well for meself and mine these last few years so we could buy four more this spring."
"Pah, and I've got fifteen," the other farmer quickly interjected, puffing up his chest and smiling winningly, his long hair in an intricate braid down his back, tied closed with a ribbon with small forget-me-not embroidered on them. "We've bought five for us this year."
"Would you then say that the small pastures are a result of you buying more cows than you have the space for?" she asked and the two men drew up short, opening their mouths before closing them.
They glanced at each other, as though they hadn't genuinely thought about that, too lost in the age-old quarrel and the desire to one-up each other.
"Well, we can't just get rid of 'em," the farmer with the moon goddess necklace murmured, looking a little less puffed up now. "I hired two new girls to take care of 'em."
"I built a new addition to the house so my son and his wife can stay with us, she's expecting a kid soon," the other said with a worried frown. "We need those animals."
Adelia paused thoughtfully for a moment, Steward Lambrecht standing quietly at her side, a picture of poise and quiet, supportive steadfastness. She then asked, "Would you mind describing the pastures to me?"
They launched into a description of their lands: their fields were to the sides of their properties, facing away from each other, while their pastures were in front of them and almost side by side.
With all their squabbling over the years, the mayor had even come by once to measure the pastures, and to ensure it really was fair – though neither man had believed him, of course – the mayor had kept a strip of still unused land between the two pastures so they were the exact same size.
And also so neither of them could just go and use the land that technically belonged to them, since they could not agree on which one of them owned it.
Apparently, back when they had paid off their land until they got to own it for good, someone in the administrative branch of Ravenburg hadn't properly marked down just how much land exactly belonged to each farmer.
The decision to leave the unused strip of land untouched had been a hopeful, if fruitless, attempt to properly separate the two farms and end the constant arguing. Now, both men grumbled that it should belong to them instead of the other, it was only fair, after all.
"I need that land now," the man with the forest goddess necklace said and the other hurried to tack on, "So do I!"
Steward Lambrecht glanced at her and Adelia took a quiet, deeper breath, drawing up a little taller. This little argument might be nothing in the grand scheme of things, but it was the first time she got to prove herself a little. It was certainly more than her father had ever allowed either her mother or her.
"Why don't you merge your pastures and claim the unused land this way?" she suggested, the two men fell quiet with a surprised blink. "Put some marked leather strips around the necks of your cows to tell them apart and let them graze together. There should be enough space for all of them then, correct?"
She glanced at Steward Lambrecht briefly to see if he'd protest and to her surprise, there was the tiniest hint of a proud smile on his face and he inclined his head ever so faintly in an approving manner.
The two men exchanged another look, seemingly sizing each other up anew. They didn't really have a choice, though, not if they didn't wish to sell part of their herd and they clearly, silently, seemed to come to the same conclusion.
"We'll have boards ready for new fencing by the end of the month," the man with the long braid and forest goddess necklace said and the other puffed back up.
"Well, so will we!" he said as he turned to Adelia with a decisive nod, and she had to bite back an unexpected little giggle. It seemed the rivalry between them would continue, but hopefully it would turn into something a little less bitter and more into healthy competition.
"So be it, I will write the mayor of Ravenburg to let him know," she said and the men both bowed to her in grateful acceptance.
"We'll send a special herb cheese as thanks," the man with the braided beard and moon goddess necklace said with a cheerful smile, all the prickly sharpness leeching out of his tone and gaze now that a surprisingly satisfying compromise had been reached.
"And we'll send our speciality: the sweetest cheese you will ever taste," the other man hurried to promise, both briefly glancing at each other, before they wrinkled their noses in distaste and looked away again.
They managed to simultaneously say, "Thank you for your time and advice. Have a good day, m'lady." Only to immediately glare at each other and huff.
They left then with a last bow and Steward Lambrecht turned towards her. "Well done," he said with a small smile that told her he hadn't doubted her for a moment and Adelia couldn't help but smile back, feeling a flush of pride at his words. "I couldn't have handled that better myself."
"Thank you. I'll write the letter to the mayor right away," she said and he bowed his head in polite agreement.
Adelia felt like she was walking a little on clouds as she got to writing the letter. She brought it to Steward Lambrecht the moment it was done and he didn't even read over it, just gave her an approving nod and swiftly sent a servant to deliver it right away.
She was in such a good mood, in fact, that when Lord Morrow came to pick her up for their usual dinner, she greeted him with a smile that she just knew was brighter than her usual ones. Especially since it was completely and entirely genuine.
"I heard about how well you handled that argument today," he said as he accompanied her to the dining room. "Thank you for your aid, I had intended to drop by those farms one of these nights to take a look at the situation myself, but there is no need for that anymore now."
"I'm glad I could be of service," she answered earnestly and she felt a small, slightly amused smile curling in the corners of her mouth as she glanced up at him. "They left squabbling, though, if you believe it or not."
Lord Morrow laughed, briefly flashing those fangs again. "I believe it, my dear Adelia. It was for the best then, that someone with your grace and poise handled the situation."
That flush of pride was back, filling her entire chest with warmth and she noticed that she was walking a little taller and Lord Morrow smiled at her like he meant everything he had said.
They reached the dining room, their meal already waiting for them, though Lord Morrow only had a goblet of wine placed before him with no food in sight, like he preferred for his dinners. It did remind her, however, of the bloody incident this morning.
"There was a delivery," she said as she took a first bite, the food as delicious as always, and he sighed softly.
"Yes, I heard, my apologies for that little mess," he answered with a rueful smile. "I promise, we usually don't spill anything around here, if it can be avoided. Well, aside from juicy gossip, of course."
He leaned forward slightly and all of a sudden, those lake-dark eyes of his seemed to light up as he said, "That reminds me, some of my friends have expressed a desire to meet you and asked if they could visit. It seemed Ivan bragged that he got to meet you before any of them did."
Adelia sat up a little straighter. She had not missed the fact that he hadn't answered her question at all, but she suddenly felt a little gut-squeezing pinch of nervousness.
"Are your friends other warlords?" At his answering nod she had to resist the urge to begin planning a party the way her mother would have immediately started preparing one the moment her father mentioned that he was going to host their fellow nobles. Adelia didn't yet know how warlords liked to celebrate. "How many of them will be in attendance?"
He tipped his head in thought. "About three, but the rest of them will tag along to annoy me and to get a look at you." He tapped the tips of his fingers against the table. Even with his gloves his too longer nails made an audible noise. "I can let them know they're not invited, but that just means they'll show up uninvited at my earliest inconvenience just to be a bother."
Politics was something Adelia understood, even if she didn't know the other warlords yet or how they governed their lands and what opinions they had on important topics.
"It will be no issue for me either way, though perhaps a planned gathering of all will be more to our advantage than being surprised by anyone uninvted," she said, voice certain and with a calm steadiness in her words. Her parents, her mother most of all, had trained her well for dealing with viper pits.
She could do this, even if the two warlords she had met, her husband included, had been rather intimidating at first. Though, truth be told, Ivan had easily made her feel more comfortable around him, an earnest openness to him that managed to ease the air of casual power that surrounded him.
Lord Morrow was silent for a long second as he thought it over, then he sighed. "You're right, let's get that over and dealt with so I can go back to ignoring them as much as possible." He tossed back the wine. "I will kick them out as early as I can, however."
He glanced at her while he reached for the wine bottle. "They're going to be rough around the edges," he said, as though half in warning. "My friends I mean. My enemies are going to be about as pleasant as drinking lantern oil."
"Let's burn them out quickly, in that case," she answered and he grinned at her, fangs easily visible, lifting his goblet in a toast and when he waited a beat, she quickly copied him so they could lightly clink their goblets together.
"To burning enemies," he said and she couldn't help but chuckle a little. Lord Morrow looked quite satisfied at that, a softer smile on his face for the rest of dinner.
They set the topic of visitors aside for now to discuss their progress on their harbor project and on the way to his office, Lord Morrow briefly dipped into the library to come back with another two books he thought she might enjoy. One on a book about folktales about sailors, pirates and sirens and the other was on the territories of the Wilds and their history with each other.
"The history book is the most up to date one we have," he said. "It was published some time last year."
With two books tucked under her arm, they entered his office to tackle the paperwork. They sat largely in silence for a time as they worked, but it was calm and comfortable and the rest of the time, conversation flowed rather easily. She read and answered letters and Lord Morrow discussed things with her as he read his correspondence aloud.
There was rather unexpected letter, however, from a mayor of a harbor town, who requested their aid, since the neighboring warlord territory had grown too unruly for them to ignore.
"It's the isles," Lord Morrow murmured with a wry frown. There was a sharp coldness to his gaze now, like a hidden blade glinting in a stray beam of light. "The warlord of the isles and I have our... differences, let's put it like that. I'll let her know to keep her people in check or I'm going to take care of her pirates myself."
That sounded dangerously like threatening war or at least risking an open conflict. Adelia felt herself frown and he softened at her expression, that sharp danger sliding away like a dagger getting sheathed.
"Worry not," he said reassuringly. "Miriam and I won't actually fight, but she likes to live a pirate life as wild as the sea and her people are all too eager to imitate her. She'll reign them back in if I ask her to."
Adelia lifted a brow. "You did not much sound like you were asking."
He huffed a darkly amused noise. "It's just the way we talk to each other, I suppose. There is no love lost between us, and you should've seen the letter she sent me when one of my trading guilds started to rip her people off too much. Wait, let me get it."
He got up to pull out one of his ledgers and after a moment of leafing through it, he showed her the letter neatly tucked away for later reference. It was indeed a very harsh, darkly threatening letter that would've given Adelia a little heart attack had she received it out of nowhere.
"Charming," she said after a long moment of staring at it and Lord Morrow actually giggled at that, putting everything away again neatly.
"We have a respectfully distasteful relationship," he said with a little grin as he sat down beside her again. "Miriam actually takes very good care of her people and her fleet keeps our waters safe, but we do not like each other and that's perfectly fine."
It was so strange to hear him speak like this, calm and without the bitter, sharply hateful, antagonistic way her father had spoken about his rivals or enemies. Or about the nobles who had tittered and laughed at him behind their hands the few times they had managed to slight him openly.
Lord Morrow on the other hand seemed perfectly fine with not liking his fellow warlord and yet there didn't seem to be any worry about an actual fight breaking out between them, either. Adelia was very unfamiliar with the concept that two people were content with finding each other distasteful and leaving each other be as much as possible as a result.
Maybe it was just how things were done in the Wilds. People were straight forward and rough around the edges, and yet there was an underlying understanding that, should anything happen, they could count on each other. Especially against outside forces.
"We should visit the isles sometime, or rather, you should if you'd like," he mused as he returned to his work, penning a letter full of cheerful threats to his fellow warlord. "I think you might like them."
He did? Adelia had no idea what to think about that. All she knew, for now, was that the isles liked piracy and those kinds of people had always been considered the lowest of the low among the nobility back home.
Unbidden, her mind wandered to the stories and descriptions she had heard growing up, the drawings of wanted pirate captains that had once been neatly laid out on her father's desk and had promptly been discarded, since his lands were nowhere near the ocean.
He had seen it as a waste of resources and coin to aid the coastal lands, since the lord governing those territories had nothing to offer him and was of lower standing. Her father never had to worry about pirates threatening him and the king's navy had kept them at bay enough that he hadn't felt a financial impact from their raids, either.
"Perhaps one day," she answered and after a moment she added, "I heard they have nice hats."
Lord Morrow chuckled, low and warm. "I'll get you one, if you want."
He offered it so easily, like he really would. It made her smile a little and they finished up their work in a rather good mood. Lord Morrow accompanied her back to her rooms when she began to yawn.
"If you'd like, I can ask Lambrecht to hand you your part of the correspondence as soon as it arrives," he said. "You won't have to wait for me to make time in the evening anymore. Though, if you'd still like to spend your evenings with me, that would make me quite happy."
"I would like that," she answered, another flush of pride warming her chest. She must be doing good work and he must trust her to be offering her this. "We could plan the party together after dinner, if you'd like."
She'd need his guidance so she wouldn't mess anything up or misrepresent his lands and his station as warlord. Lord Morrow sighed.
"There will be so many people to invite to avoid stepping on any toes," he grumbled, looking less than enthusiastic. "But you're right, there is plenty we need to take care of and the sooner we're done, the better."
"What does a party in the Wilds entail?" Adelia asked, curious, as they approached her rooms.
Parties and celebrations and festivities among the nobility had always looked a little different back home, depending on what was considered fashionable at the time, but there had always been a lot of etiquette to pay attention to.
A lot of posturing and political maneuvering, who to charm, who to compliment, who to insult, who to slight and who to manipulate and who intended to do the same to her and her family.
One year, when she had been around ten years old, peacock feathers had been very popular and she remembered them being everywhere and how much they had tickled her palms when she had touched them. They had looked pretty, but poor Baron Izna had been allergic to them and she still remembered the way some of the nobles had smiled at him, all pretty and charming, while ensuring the tips of their feathers bobbed as close to his face as possible.
Then peacock feathers had been considered unfashionable and all-white clothing was instead considered the height of wealth and status, so all color had vanished. Embroidery had become the way to show off then, using pearlescent or shimmering thread and people had shifted strategically to show off fine, detailed patterns.
But the way nobles spoke to each other had always remained unchanged. Polite and with smiles on their faces to mask what they were really thinking and feeling, insults hidden between elegant words and pretend-compliments.
"Food and drinks is a requirement," her husband answered as they reached her door. "Good music and dancing if we feel like it. Everyone shows off and postures and tries to one-up one another." His smile was wry, bordering on a grimace. "Not my favorite thing in the world."
"You could play the violin," she suggested and he paused at that, his head tipping in thought. "I'm certain you could master a piece in time. Oh, wait here a moment!"
She dipped inside, leaving a very curious looking Lord Morrow behind. Adelia swiftly picked up the music sheets she had bought and brought them to him.
"I saw them when I visited Ravenburg," she said with a hopeful little smile. "And I thought we could try our hand at them."
"Thank you." Lord Morrow's voice was soft, just like his expression, his smile warm and downright sweet. "I'm sure I'll master this swiftly, and if I don't manage to learn it in time for the party, may I play for you later?" He held the music pieces carefully and his smile widened a little, showing off a hint of his teeth. "I would like to impress my teacher at the very least."
Adelia had no idea why that made her feel so touched and softly giddy-warm. "I will look forward to your performance then," she said and bit her lower lip before admitting, "And while I like helping you learn, but I'm not, um." She floundered for a moment and Lord Morrow gave her an understanding, reassuring smile.
"Playing an instrument is not a passion of yours?" he guessed and she gave him a small nod, her fingers knotting together in front of her. "Don't worry, I completely understand. Life is meant to be enjoyed when possible, especially when it comes to hobbies. I am honored you took the time to teach me and that you want to listen to me play in the future. Now, I best let you get some rest, good night my sweet lady and thank you for this lovely gift."
He stepped back with a small bow and Adelia curtsied back with a relieved lightness to her chest, glad that he had understood. Lord Morrow left with a last smile and she closed the door, feeling pleasantly tired.
She was glad buying those music sheets for him had been a good choice.
It wasn't until she set down the two books he had gotten her from the library that her gaze fell to the book she had bought earlier and she remembered all over again that he hadn't answered her question about the spilled blood at all. Not only that, he had distracted her so thoroughly and skillfully that it had completely slipped her mind.
Growing still, she stared down at the book, frowning to herself. Lord Morrow didn't seem to be a bad person, not with everything that she had learned about him. But this... this gave her an uneasy feeling that pinched slightly at her stomach.
Did he need the blood for himself for some bizarre reason or was he housing something? Someone? Maybe something he kept hidden beneath the keep? Perhaps, well, he might even be cursed and only Steward Lambrecht was in the know. In that case his fangs might not be fake at all and his gloves might be hiding visible signs of the curse.
Or he was just a man with ill fingers and glamoured teeth and it was family member, instead, that got cursed and there was no other way to aid them aside from giving them blood. Lord Morrow never mentioned his parents or any siblings, now that she thought about it.
She reached for the book on sentient monsters with renewed determination. Something was going on and even if this book gave her no answers, she felt better if she started her research somewhere.
She wanted to find out what secret was hidden here in a keep that never stopped being foggy, where its lord was gone the entire day and yet he had made sure, over and over again, that she would feel welcome.
If he truly was suffering from something or someone he loved suffered, she wanted to help. After all that he had done for her and continued to do, it only seemed right to return the favor.
She tucked herself into bed with a candle at the bedside table and opened the book, skimming the introductions of the author and the reason the book had been written in the first place – something about his sister vanishing into the night, never to be seen again.
She fell asleep three hours later, the book flopping onto her chest, just as she had reached the chapter labeled 'werewolf' and she dreamed about a foggy forest and voices luring her deeper inside and someone, in the distance, began to play a haunting violin melody.
Not the Chosen One, Ch. 22: Live Goes On, Not Just Ours
Happy Tuesday, all my gremlins (affectionate) who follow this story!
First, I want to thank @experiments-in-craft and @lolafaiy for jumping on the last chapter so quickly and interacting/reblogging it. Second, I want to thank @baelpenrose and @writing-with-olive for beta-reading all the chapters thus far, including this one and the ones yet to be published.
Third, this chapter does come with trigger warnings. Specifically, a trauma response to something that was ultimately a safe situation - this is something very real in PTSD and CPTSD survivors (I know from experience) where a specific set of things have followed a triggering event that you will panic even when the follow up actions don't occur. It's exhausting and takes years to unlearn. To be clear: the triggering event is completely safe and the learned consequences were in no way going to happen. But it still sets off a panic attack. Feel free to skip the chapter and DM me the short version if you don't feel comfy reading.
Lastly, a couple housekeeping things. Due to some stuff going on in my personal life (good things, promise), I am deeply behind on chapters. When I started posting this, I had 15 chapters buffered.
I currently have 3.
I learned when writing The Miys that the quality of what I put out suffers greatly when I am having to write as I post, and I don't want to be in that situation again. As a result, I am taking a proactive hiatus until October 28th. (Sorry, Bael. I know this is the first you're hearing of it... I literally decided about 15 minutes ago and needed to commit)
That being said, ask box is always open, and I am hoping this gives me time to get ahead again and really look at my schedule and set things up so I can write more consistently. And update my Master Post and add page links before @janeshadow figures out how to hex me through the computer, seeing as I promised to do both those things well over 2 months ago.
Thank you all so, so much for your support thus far. I am sure these weeks are going to fly by, and I plan to be back and better than ever.
I hefted the blueberry rake towards Trey. “You are about to get a workout and some snacks all in one go,” I teased.
He eyed it skeptically. “And you couldn’t ask Nate or Chris to do this before they headed home because….?”
“Because you need to learn it,” I laughed. “And I swear, this is much easier than it looks.”
“It looks vicious.”
“It looks like that because you can’t possibly screw up,” I assured him. “How do you think Benji snagged so many so fast that first day?”
He rolled his neck and reached out. “Okay, fine. I’ll try it.”
I nodded, smiling, but pulled the rake back. “Grab some clean baskets from the planting shed, and I’ll show you how to use it first. It really is super easy, but I want to show you just in case.”
My heart swelled just a bit when he beelined to the correct shed to grab the clean baskets, returning with a stack far larger than what we should need.
I wasn’t even about to correct him. Too many baskets was a lighter solution than too few.
Hefting the rake, I turned towards the blueberry bush. “Okay, so this thing looks like it could bite you, but really it’s designed to harvest only the ripe berries, with as few leaves as possible. Unripe berries will slip between the tines. Does that make sense?”
He scrunched his eyebrows. “Yeah, that… That actually makes a lot of sense.”
Since he still looked doubtful, I pointed at the rake specifically until his eyes were focused on it. “You just comb the teeth through the bush…” I did a small pass, fat round fruits falling into the scoop. “And see? Just a couple leaves, ripe berries, and…..” I pointed to clusters still on the same branches I had just combed, “unripe fruit is left there until it’s ready.”
“Wait.” Trey maneuvered in close, studying the bush and the rake. “So, as long as I don’t scrape the branches in the nook on the teeth, it just…. Picks everything for me?”
“Exactly!” I cheered. “I usually hate single purpose tools, but can you imagine how long it would have taken to pick just the ones in the rake by hand? And I did it in, what, one maybe two seconds?”
“No joke. When do I dump it into a basket? Every pass?”
I groaned. “Oh, gods and goddesses, please don’t do that to yourself.” Pointing at the base of the tines, I continued. “When the scoop of the rake is level here, that’s a full basket. So just rake rake rake until it’s full, pour it into a basket, and rake some more. It won’t look full, but any more than that and they start bruising and getting squished.”
“And if I just do one full rake to one basket, I don’t have to guess when it’s too full?”
“Bingo,” I winked, clicking my cheek. “I have plenty of baskets and I’ll have plenty of berries, but the difference between one that is just a bit tumbled and one that will spoil faster is too close to risk it.”
“Do you just…. Toss the damaged ones?”
“What? No! Those are used for jams, pie fillings, tarts, whatever. They’re still perfectly good, we harvest these bushes too often for anything to actually be spoiled. I just don’t want to risk mixing spoiled and unspoiled… This way, the damaged berries are obvious from the wash, and we can set them aside for other uses.” I lowered my voice and leaned in to whisper, “And honestly, I kind of like the overripe ones the best, so there usually aren’t many of those that I don’t end up eating while I’m washing. I leave a few for Benji, but…”
Trey giggled before turning back to his adversary for the day.
Once I was confident he would be fine, plus or minus some leaves or under-ripe berries, I headed to the planting greenhouse. Normally, planting seeds would be strictly a spring activity, but one benefit of my power was being able to make seedlings from seeds in the span of a couple hours. Beets, broccoli, and winter greens needed to start soon, so I was taking the day to get those sprouted and ready to plant. After all, if I wanted to be first to the stand, I needed to make sure mine matured first, and this method ensured they tasted the best.
All of the seeds were in starter pots, and I started with the kale since it tended to… resist, a bit. Something about it made kale very stubborn, but thankfully once it was started, that meant it would grow without intervention and also it tended to ignore any inconvenience short of being eaten. Rubbing my palms together, I dug my bare toes into the dirt floor of the greenhouse before spreading my hands above the starter pots and closing my eyes.
There was literally no way to know how long I had been focused on growing the baby kales when I heard a yelp from behind me. My focus broke, and my power rushed out, uncontrolled. Rather than the meditative, invigorating feel of a job well done, most of my focus and will rushed out with the flash of green as my eyes jerked open. I was just in time to see fully-grown versions of everything I had just planted, along with every other plant in the building matured far ahead of their normal schedule.
“Trey?” I asked, a hand going to my forehead as a wave of dizziness washed over me.
“I - I’m so sorry,” he stuttered behind me. “You were… the greenhouse was lit up, and I was done, and you were green.”
I turned slowly, still rubbing my brows and forehead with one hand, bracing myself on a table with the other. “I was starting seedlings - “
“Oh, god, I’m sorry, please, I’m so sorry. I’ll never do it again, I’m so sorry, I didn’t know -” He kept apologizing like it was a prayer, and I finally forced my eyes open, headache be damned.
“Trey!” I gasped, closing the gap between us quietly and dropping to my knees in arms reach, but not touching him yet.
He had curled into a ball on the ground, arms over his head like he was protecting himself from a physical blow. Hell, for all I knew, he was. Who knew what his previous family had done to him when he accidentally caused a minor inconvenience.
“Trey,” I murmured. “I’m not mad, I just have a headache from the power going all at once. You aren’t in any kind of trouble, I should have warned you. I thought it would take longer for you to harvest the blueberries…”
He was still chanting his apologies, ears deaf to any words from me, likely a form of self-preservation.
I needed the big guns.
Swearing internally, I reached out to Dexter through our connection - a method I rarely used as it was uncomfortable at the best of times, but shouting, even for Dex, was the last thing I needed to do with Trey in his current state. Thankfully, that rare usage emphasized the urgency of the matter and Dexter was rubbing against our ward with a purr in less than five seconds, in his fluffiest glory.
And less than ten seconds after that, one of Trey’s hands dropped to pet his favorite lifeline, fingers digging into fur for dear life.
“Stef will never hurt you, I won’t let her,” Dexter promised, rubbing against any part of Trey’s head he could reach. “She could never be a guardian if she was the type to hurt the vulnerable, even in a state of shock.”
“She turned so fast - “
“Clumsy bitch tripped on her own feet,” Dexter confided loudly. “She was dizzy, turned to look at you, and then tripped and had to catch herself on a table.”
“Unfortunately,” I admitted.
“Can I be alone and not get in trouble?” Trey asked, sounding so, so small.
“Tell me where you want to be, and I’ll be somewhere else,” I promised. “And Dexter will, too, if you want.”
His hand clenched in Dex’s fur, but thankfully the bastard catthing let it go without complaint. “I’m still trying to remember Dexter is a person, and I like being around animals when I’m upset.”
Good enough. At least a semi-responsible adult-adjacent being would have an eye on him.
“I’ll head to the house and come back out here to get all this tomorrow,” I confirmed. “But…. I do need to leave the greenhouse to do that? And you’re by the only door. So, after you are comfortable enough to move.” I turned away and cut the kale - it was already fully mature, I’d just start new ones tomorrow and freeze this.
After the crunch of feet got quieter, I turned back - very slowly this time - to see the door was open and free of teenager.
Watch over him, I mentally asked Dexter, only to be met with a feeling that I can only describe as the pain of knowing someone has spoken to you with disdain.
Because, of course Dexter would watch Trey. How dare I ask.
Maintaining a diversity of ongoing personal projects is important because it enables you to procrastinate on one by aimlessly tinkering with another, thereby creating the possibility that you'll finish one of them by accident.
Not the Chosen One, Ch. 21 - Growth Comes From Death
This chapter gives some more insight into Stef and Benji's background, along with more fun found family dynamics. :)
Since I was in a rush the last couple weeks and missed some shout outs, let me make up for it now. For those who weren't around when I was doing this with The Miys, if you've gotten a shout out before but have engaged since, you WILL be tagged again, lol. It's my way of being grateful by letting y'all know the new chapter dropped. <3
@lolafaiy, @experiments-in-craft, @1978sah, and @shenanigansandtriumph, thank you!
Also, kudos to @baelpenrose and @writing-with-olive for your much needed and deeply appreciated beta reading powers!
Both of the Tanner brothers slept over that night. By the time Trey woke up, Nate had already risen and was checking his goats, while Chris was presumably still sleeping in the hammock, snoring fit to wake the dead.
“That’s an awful lot of breakfast,” Trey hedged, pulling the smaller plate of ‘clearly margarined’ waffles to himself.
“The guys slept over last night,” I confirmed. “They will survive scrambled eggs. What do you want?”
He grunted, frustrated. “You don’t have to keep treating me special. I’ll eat whatever.”
I took a deep breath to calm myself before turning slowly. “Trey. Saying you’ll eat whatever is dangerous in this household. Specifically? Chris, Nate, and I will eat anything that doesn’t run away faster than we can stab it with a fork and eat it.” When he turned a bit green and swallowed, I nodded. “I’m not kidding. So. When I ask what you want, I am doing it to make sure I won’t serve you something you have an aversion to, not to test you. You can always give me the bare minimum, and I’ll respect that. But please. For your own sake. Don’t tell me to make whatever?”
“Ham and cheese omelette?”
“I have venison and cheese?”
“Venison… sausage?”
“Yeah?”
“That sounds good!”
“Sausage and cheese omelette, coming up!” I laughed. Clearly he’d gotten the message.
It was maybe fifteen minutes later when the Tanner boys erupted through my back door, covered in mud, carrying a cage of some kind.
“NOPE!” I snapped, shaking my head. “Take your muddy asses back to the patio, hose down. Trey, grab them towels. The worn out ones from the waist high shelf in the closet next to the bathroom.”
“Waist high, closet by the bathroom. How many?”
“All of them.” After assuring my ward to err on the side of filthy, I whipped back around to my brothers. “What the hell do you think you are doing, tracking your muddy asses through my kitchen?”
“We have crayfish,” Chris offered the muddy basket sheepishly.
I flicked my glasses on top of my head and rubbed my eyes, if only so I wouldn’t roll them hard enough to sprain them. “Are any of their tails over an inch?”
….”Most?”
“All but six,” Nate barked, tired. “Now, are you going to hose us off, or what?”
Suddenly, even beneath the mud, I could see him pale. And it took all of three seconds to know why.
“Christopher Daniel and Nathaniel David Tanner. How DARE you try to walk your filthy selves into a sanctified home? The crick is in the back of the property, wash yourselves off there, and you can hose your filthy feet off when you come back. Leave the crayfish.” Benji’s tone terrified even me, so there was no salvation for these men.
She didn’t even bat an eye other than the one she was rubbing the sleep out of. Grumbling, she picked up the muddy nets. “Damned Tanners and mud, no sense between the two of them…” Without ceasing her swearing, she hosed off the wriggling nets. “At least they’re worth eating. Dex, we have crayfish for dinner… in ten hours.”
There was an odd noise and yelp. When I rushed into the kitchen, Trey’s hands were in the sink, engulfed in ice.
“Sorry about that. Benji can explain better than I can,” I admitted.
Trey held his hands up to prevent dripping and padded back towards the hall bathroom. “Why weren’t either of you upset they were muddy?”
My face cramped as it scrunched in confusion. “What do you mean ‘why weren’t we upset’? We were clearly upset… Benji made them go wash in the creek rather than use the hose.”
“Is that what a ‘crick’ is?”
“Damned right!” Benji cried, rinsing seafood before packing it in ice until dinner.
I just took a squat in the hallway, not even facing the bathroom and deliberately dropping any attempt at articulation. “Yeah, crick. And no, seeing folks muddy after fishing crayfish isn’t anything new. Crayfish love mud, so mud is where you gettem.”
Still scrubbing his fingers, Trey’s head swivelled towards me so slowly it seemed like artifice. “What in the…”
“We grew up poor,” I pointed out. “I figured you knew that, given that Mom was a waitress.”
“But… you and Benji… You’re both so…”
“Educated?” Benji interrupted, wiping her hands off on a clean towel. “We earned that, to make Mama proud. She wanted us to prove people wrong.”
“About being poor?” The poor kid sounded so profoundly confused.
I shook my head and stood shakily. “About so much more than that, but I need Chris for this. He’s older, so he remembers more than I do.”
“What about - “
Dexter yowled, stretching into a tuxedo form. Confident. “I did not meet Stefanie until she was twenty, and Benji was eighteen at the time. I met Benji a year later. I am not a reliable witness to any of this, only the lasting effects.”
“Thank you,” I whispered hoarsely.
He dipped his head in acknowledgement. Dexter may be an asshole, but he never outright lied. Sure, he could talk around the truth until you forgot the question, but so could any human politician worth their salt. But Dex at least openly admitted when he didn’t know something, with no loopholes.
I was on my second cup of coffee when the knock opened the back door. “Stef?” Nate grunted carefully.
“Cold coffee is in the icebox, hot is on the stove. Waffles are already buttered and probably soggy, but there’s a skillet on the stove to heat them back up,” I responded.
“Fuck, she’s mad,” Chris muttered as Nate carefully draped his hair towel on the kitchen floor before stepping on it.
“If she was mad at us, she wouldn’t feed us, dumbass.” Nate rolled his eyes as he walked in, snagging a plate and some breakfast. “Stef isn’t going to leave poisoned food laying out around a greedy ass cat-thing and a teenage boy who is functionally a bottomless pit.”
To his credit, Trey let Chris eat two and a halfish waffles before the interrogation started. “So, Stef and Benji were pretty clear that I need to ask this when you were around, so: what did their mother raise them to prove wrong?”
Chris blinked a couple times while chewing. “To prove people that paranormals could hold honest jobs?” He glanced between me and my sister. “I thought you knew that.”
“We thought it was because we grew up poor,” Benji argued before either Trey or I could even process the statement.
Both Chris and Nate gave a look of disgust. Chris recovered faster. “Anyone who talks to either of you for longer than five minutes should know you’re smart. Rich, poor, it doesn’t matter - you’re both clearly the best at what you do.”
“It doesn’t take a lot to be great at being a gardener when you have plant magic and inherited an undeveloped property,” I grumbled.
Chris pinched his nose, but Nate breathed heavily before knocking on the table. “Stef. You’re the best foster care in the county - hell, probably the state. For wildlife or for people. The only people weeee” He gestured between himself and his brother frantically, “would recommend for a foster of any sort is you, or Mom.”
I bit my lips, not sure how to respond. At no point had I considered myself as a good foster mom, just a sufficient one. A foster who wouldn’t fuck them up further.
“I can’t give anyone a good example of a dad,” I argued lamely.
Chris crowed with laughter while Nate ducked back into the kitchen. Once Chris recovered, he took one look at Trey’s concerned face and crouched to speak to him, directly. “Stef and Benji have told me again and again that I’m allowed to tell their human fosters about this, so unless they stop me, I’m about to spill the beans.”
I nodded.
Benji rolled her eyes, but bit her waffle and shrugged.
Chris smiled, to his credit. “So, Stef and Benji have the same father - I know, but I feel like I need to defend Aunt Helen on this one. I know you heard about Benji knocking a bully out of their socks when she was four, but that wasn’t even the first time she’d done it.”
When he paused, my jaw clenched, teeth grinding. My eyes darted toward my sister, but she was completely unperturbed. It tracked. She wasn’t even a year old when this happened.
“Before she could even walk, their father tried to… I don’t know, pick up, comfort, shake, no one knows.” Chris sighed and took a sip of his beer. “I remember hearing Mom say that Benji was screaming, their dad tried to pick her up, and he ended up getting thrown ass over teakettle through three walls into the yard.”
“And he left,” Trey ventured.
Chris nodded. “He didn’t want kids with powers, at least not ones they couldn’t hide. And you can’t hide something as awesome as Benji.” He threw a wink to my sister before handing her another drink.
Trey’s face scrunched in confusion. “He didn’t know his own wife had magic?”
I crowed with laughter, startling everyone.
Chris scowled at me, shaking his head with a barely suppressed smirk. “Aunt Helen’s magic was in making people happy. And I’m guessing he was happy not knowing about his wife’s magic, cause he sure as shit beat feet when Benji chucked him out of the house for whatever reason a baby has.”
“That’s so stupid,” Trey groused, stabbing his waffle unnecessarily. “Babies want their mother, that’s the only reason they have.”
“But he didn’t want kids with abilities,” I reminded gently. “And you can ignore the talent of a wife who is able to make people happy, even of a daughter who can make plants prosper. But a baby who can ward strong enough to launch you through several walls? I can imagine that was beyond the pale.”
“THAT!” Chris cried, snapping his fingers and pointing at me. “That is what I remember, and what Mom and Dad agree with.”
“What did your mom say?” Trey asked, looking between me and Benji.
She just shrugged. “Nothing. That he left when I was a baby and she hadn’t heard from him since.”
I nodded. “Same. No good or bad, just that he left when Benji was a baby and that was it.” After taking a breath, I tackled what I felt was the real point of the conversation. “Any time I have had a male foster of humaniform type, I….” I waved at Chris and Nate. “I have two upstanding men to help, and Mr. Tanner to ‘dad’ all over anyone who needs one.”
Trey’s eyes grew wide. “So, if I need a dad, not a mom?”
Nate hiked his hand up next to his ear, thumb and pinky extended. “Hey, Dad. Yeah, Stef has a foster who needs a dad. Should he call you Sir or Mister Tanner?”
Holding the same hand away from his face, he started making duckbill motions and lowered his voice half an octave. “That boy can call me sir, uncle, or papa, but I be damned a child who needs a dad calls me Mister. I ain’t no damned teacher, I’m a farmer.”
Nate dropped his hands and levelled a stare at Trey. “Take your pick. If it helps, Stef and Benji tend to call him Papa Tanner when new folks aren’t around.”
Trey slowly turned to glare at me. “This isn’t a new conversation.”
I sipped my lemonade. “Not even remotely. I do suggest ‘Papa Tanner’ and ‘sir’, if that helps.”
“And his wife is Mama Tanner?”
I screwed my face up hard enough to get a cramp between my eyes. “Yeah? No shit. Mama Tanner is Mama Tanner.” The blood drained from my face as I scrambled from my chair. “Wait. Did I call her Miss Tanner? Missus Tanner? Please don’t tell her, I’ll never hear the end of it.”
Trey seemed panicked before Nate intervened.
“If Stef called Mama ‘Miss’ or ‘Missus’ Tanner, Stef is banned from pecan pie for a whole year. And she loves Mama’s pecan pie.”
Trey took a moment to process all of that, realized I was being theatric over a low-stakes-to-him situation, and nodded. “Nope. She’s never ever ever called Mama Tanner anything other than Mama Tanner.”
Bless that child’s face, soul, eternity, and food.
This chapter is rife with easter eggs, mostly for things outside of my own works. So bonus points for anyone who spots them all in the comments.... I do pay attention, and you will be on my radar for farming names for emergency one-off characters ;) .
That said, the only trigger warning in this chapter is Nate taking out the IV. It isn't graphic, it just happens, and that warning is about as much as it comes up in the chapter. It's so specific that I don't even know how to CW it, so if anyone wants to dm me on advice, I appreciate it.
This is a quick updated, so I'll double up on engagement recognition next week. For now, thanks as always goes to @baelpenrose and @writing-with-olive.
I knocked before re-entering my kitchen, waiting for a response before walking in. Trey’s dark head was bent over Nate’s arm, with the older man coaching him on the angle to put an IV in. A handful of dots showed previous attempts, but this time the line filled the second Nate removed the tie from his arm.
“See?” He beamed. “I knew you could do it.”
Trey muttered something I couldn’t hear, head still lowered.
Nate waved him off with his free hand. “Are you kidding? I cut myself worse than that doing chores. You did fine. You shoulda seen my arms when Stef was learning… And Benji still can’t seem to nail it on the first try unless it’s her sister’s arm.”
“This is true,” I added, which made Trey look at me in relief. “Hey kiddo, Chris is pulling new carrots if you want to help.”
Trey nodded gratefully before exiting as fast as he could without being rude.
Nate just chuckled. “Kid’s not from around here, that’s for sure.”
“You don’t know the half of it.” I sighed a bit more heavily than I meant to. “Talk go okay?”
“Oh, yeah,” he dismissed the question with a gesture. “I just offered to help him learn to shave. Dark facial hair issues and all that. Chris doesn’t know the struggle.”
It was my turn to laugh a bit. Chris was as blonde as his brother was dark, and even blonder for working outside as much as he did. Not to mention the older of the two brothers couldn’t grow a proper beard if he had Miracle Gro and a decade to try.
Nate took a sip of his beer before pointing at me with it. “Don’t think I didn’t hear that comment when I mentioned the kid not being from around here. Spill. Now.”
“What if I don’t have Trey’s permission?” I challenged, defensive. Of myself or Trey, I wasn’t sure, but my hackles were up and I was ready to fight if I needed to.
Instead, I got a look that made it clear that he thought I was playing dumb and losing. “You know I wouldn’t ask if I thought that was the case. And if it is, tell me where to stick my nose like you always do.”
Groaning, I rubbed my eyes. “Ugh. Yeah, he told me it’s okay to tell you, Chris, and Taji if I need to. He already told me, Benji, and Dex the fuller story, and I honestly don’t blame him for not wanting to repeat it.” I took a deep breath and made a point to make eye contact. “He’s from Van Buren, and walked most of the way here.” I let that sink in - our little town was just east of Gilead, almost as far as you could go without leaving the state.
Nate’s empty beer hit the table with a little more force than I think he realized. “Stef. That’s over three hundred miles….”
“But he didn’t go any further south,” I pointed out, just as I reminded myself every night when I woke up in terror at what could have happened to him. “He missed Bangor and that feral vampire nest north of Portland.”
“Gods be damned,” Nate swore before noticing the bag he was donating into was full. Once he was done removing everything and hanging the bag in the fridge, he retrieved another beer and sat back down. “And that was better than what he was running from?”
“He was running from danger, so… yeah,” I shrugged. “He was kicked out of his home, on the streets, and unsafe for being a teenager, for being born in a female body, and for being queer… Moving around kept him safe, but there were still enough close calls that he kept moving. Only reason he didn’t dip further south when it was still cold was this one long haul driver - an older woman with a rottweiler - who told him freezing to death up here was better than what he could run into by accident down there. He took it to heart, hence…” I waved around my house.
“The world saw a need, and the beacons were lit, apparently,” he sighed. Running a hand through his hair, he glanced up at the ceiling. “Any chance you have beef thawed up?”
“No…?” The abrupt change in topic confused me.
Without preamble, he stood up, carefully tucking the chair back under the table. “Between the wards, the goats, and… Trey being the luckiest unlucky kid ever, for lack of any better way to put it, I think we need to celebrate.” He was already at the back door, opening it and striding outside.
“Nate! Hang on, the wards - “
“Won’t kill me or I’d be dead. CHRIS!” he called, forging ahead towards the garden beds. “Who has some fresh red meat this late in the year?”
Chris finished explaining something to Trey before answering. “The…. Fergusons maybe? I know they just had to kill a bull before he got too big. They might have some left. Unless you feel like doing the work. If that’s the case, you got a lot of goats out here…”
“Cut off my nose to spite my face, sure,” Nate grumbled. “I’m going to go to the truck and call the Fergusons, see if they have any beef left. Thinking we grill some steaks or burgers or something.” He looked back at me. “Any chance you have some new potatoes still?”
I scoffed. “Of course I do. What’s the point of being a plant witch if I can’t have fresh new potatoes year round?”
He flashed a rare grin. “That’s what I like to hear! Be right back. BENJI!” The last shout made me jump. “Wanna come with to pick up some steaks? You’ll know what Dex wants.”
She stood from the other side of Chris, where she had been completely hidden. Brushing off her hands on her pants, she nodded. “Let’s go. If it was recent enough, maybe we can snag a kidney for him.”
“And the tail if they haven’t already sold it?” I asked greedily. All I could think of were the bags of rice and fresh-shucked canary peas that would go incredibly with some oxtails.
“And the tail,” Nate shrugged.
Once the Troublesome Twosome headed out, I headed over to the bed where the potatoes grew, looking for some that were contenders for dinner. Ugly ones that didn’t show any sign of ever being pretty, but still younger and tender.
I could hear Trey grilling Chris about the carrots. “I’ve never seen baby carrots that look like this,” he argued.
Chris laughed gently, in a way that told me he’d answered this question several times already. “The ones they sell in stores are bigger carrots that were too ugly to sell, carved down into cute little things that are more appealing. These are actual new growth carrots, and they actually sell for more than you would believe. Or they would IF STEF WOULD SELL THEM TO RESTAURANTS!”
I laughed at the good natured shouting. We’d had this conversation for years, to the point it basically had a script. “We talked about this,” I called back in a teasing singsong. “Why should restaurants be the only ones to get the pretty Instagram carrots?”
“Because they pay more!”
“They don’t appreciate them more!” I laughed. “Are you really going to tell me that some fancy schmancy chef who isn’t even eating them is going to love those carrots half as much as the spouse who makes them for an anniversary, and both of them are eating the result? You’ll never convince me.”
Trey’s giggles in the background became full, wheezing laughter. “Oh my god, she has you….” The laughter got even louder, and I just knew Chris winked behind my back, admitting defeat where I couldn’t see it.
“Since you’ve apparently ruined my apprentice for pulling carrots….” I sighed dramatically, “Trey, can you go get some lemons? We’re low on lemonade, and if we’re grilling out, we need more. There might be some strawberries, too, but they’re on the far side of the greenhouse.”
“Lemons and strawberries. Got it.” He was still laughing when he walked past me, shaking his head.
Once he was in the greenhouse, I stood with my filthy, muddy trophies and walked back to Chris, mentally counting the bundles. “Leave some to get mature,” I teased. “We can’t sell them all as babies.”
“Poor kid’s never seen vegetables in their natural habitat,” he shook his head, still smiling a bit but not laughing anymore.
“Hey, that’s normal,” I pointed out. “You grew up in a farming family. I didn’t… And until I got a hold on my powers, I rarely saw fruits or veggies like this.”
That seemed to satisfy him, because we worked in silence until Trey returned, empty handed. “I put the lemons and strawberries in the kitchen,” he assured us before starting to stack carrots that had been bundled. “Are we going to trim these?” he asked, looking a bunch.
“Nope!” I popped. “When they’re this small, the greens are half the point.”
I glanced over just in time to watch him wrinkle his nose. “Carrot greens??”
I couldn’t hold back my laughter, a peal of it erupting before I shook my head. “We are definitely going to teach you how to cook. You don’t have to like it, you don’t even have to be good. But everyone needs to know how to use what they have available to make something edible in a pinch.”
“I can cook!” he objected with the indignation that only an offended teenager could muster.
“Green. Bacon.”
“I am never going to live that down…”
I slapped a hand over Chris’s mouth before he could undermine me. “Not for a while, no. And if Chris tells the story he wants to tell right now, I will feed his food to Dext - EWWWW!” I yelped as something slimy slithered against my palm. Jumping to my feet, I vigorously wiped my hand on my pants. “What are you, five?!”
“And thirty. And old enough to know when I need to - “
“Finish that sentence and even Benji can’t protect you from the itching I will inflict on you.”
snowghoul
izzy806
pixelskylines
origamiaround
yousharknotpass
stormborns
titsay
