I cursed at my hands as I dropped the key again. They shook so badly, it was a miracle I could hold it at all. Still, I needed to get inside. I needed to get Dusk inside. Summer born weren't meant to withstand blizzards, and as the snow collected on his body, I muttered to myself a mantra of "he's not a corpse yet. He's still alive for now. Hurry before that changes."
Luck smiled on me as I jabbed the key wantonly towards the lock and slid it in. The door opened half a moment later, and I dragged Dusk inside and closed out the cold. Immediately, I strode back into the kitchen and retrieved a jar of acorns from a circular dining table. Popping the cap off a good sized seed, I whispered my message into it, then capped it once more and tossed it lightly over my shoulder. It disappeared completely, as if it'd never existed in the first place. With that done, I sought out the large fireplace in the center of the cabin's main floor and got to work at building heat.
All the while, Dusk lay on the rug in the foyer. I wasn't sure how I was still functional, my muscles were beyond the point they should have given out, but I wasn't prepared to jinx myself and collapse part way up the stairs to the loft while I tried to carry my unconscious companion to bed. No, he'd either have to make it there himself or wait for Mama June to arrive.
A baby fire burned in the hollow hearth now. I blew on it gently and it flared in response. Sure it was stable, I built up around it, then curled up on a loveseat nearby, alert for any sound that didn't belong to the blizzard outside.
***
The door opened ten minutes after I'd decided to try and bathe. Water boiled in pots on the stove, and the wash basin in the middle of the kitchen was only half full when Mama June let herself into the cabin and cursed colourfully as she tripped over Dusk's leg, her blue-purple curls bouncing wildly around her creamy-skinned face. I laughed at her from the dining table, having had a full view due to the lack of interior walls, and she turned her scolding face to me.
"Aevy, I thought you knew to pick up your toys. Leaving them lying about is dangerous!"
"He's not a toy though. He's the reason I called you." I said, standing gingerly. She eyed me, her gorgeous silver-green irises glinting in the low light, then turned her gaze towards the floor. Dusk still had arrows in his body, though they'd been broken when he'd been tossed off my back, and he was covered in dirt and dried blood.
"Since when do you leave a wounded male in the foyer?" Mama June bent and brushed hair off Dusk's forehead, frowning.
"Since I can barely move and didn't want to kill us both by falling on the stairs. I was hoping you could make the transfer?"
"Well, I did come here to heal. Making sure he doesn't get trampled seems like the easy part."
"Trampled? How many people do you think I'm expecting?"
"I never know with you, dear, so I've learned to expect many and get what I get." I smiled as she lifted him into her arms, careful of his wounds, and carried him upstairs as if he was no more than a yearling. Possessiveness grew in me as I watched how she held him, his body tucked close to hers, and reminded myself I'd asked her to come, asked her to touch him. I longed to follow as they disappeared into the loft, but I wasn't much use in healings. My talents were much darker.
"Do you need anything, Mama June?" I called up as I walked back to the boiling water on the stove.
"Just a kettle and the herbs Lark keeps in the side cupboard."
I smiled softly. Somehow, she always knew what her son had tucked away, no matter where we were. Perhaps that was her gift, being a spirit of the land, or perhaps it was something she'd taught him. Either way, I filled a kettle and rummaged through the cupboard for the herbs she claimed were there- herbs I didn't know Lark had left here. I put a familiar woven pouch on a tea tray along with a bowl and two cups, the kettle, and some fresh linen cloth. It was heavy for my overworked muscles, but if she'd carried Dusk up the stairs, I could carry this.
I sucked in my breath as I saw them on the bed; Dusk's eyes closed, his chest moving so faintly it looked still, and Mama June kneeling on the soft surface beside him, frowning as she hunched over his back and extracted the first arrowhead from his shoulder. Blood trickled from the wound, dark and thick black, the wrong colour.
"Set that tray here, dearling, and grab me a knife. I assume you still keep a few in your bedroom?" I did as she bid, handing her an obsidian blade I kept in my nightstand. It was thin but strong, small enough to fit comfortably in my hand but large enough to do damage if need be. I'd killed more than a few fae with it, but in the hands of Mama June, it became a surgical tool, and she used it skillfully to make incisions around the wound to bleed it of the toxic, poisoned blood. She ran her pinky along the slick edge of the arrowhead, then touched her tongue lightly to it. Her face crinkled as she swirled it about her mouth. "Well, that's just lazy. The Summer Queen isn't ever trying for subtlety these days. Open that bag and hand me the yarrow, the meadow sweet, and the fivepoint."
"Do you need anything, Mama June?" I called up as I walked back to the boiling water on the stove.
"Just a kettle and the herbs Lark keeps in the side cupboard."
I smiled softly. Somehow, she always knew what her son had tucked away, no matter where we were. Perhaps that was her gift, being a spirit of the land, or perhaps it was something she'd taught him. Either way, I filled a kettle and rummaged through the cupboard for the herbs she claimed were there- herbs I didn't know Lark had left here. I put a familiar woven pouch on a tea tray along with a bowl and two cups, the kettle, and some fresh linen cloth. It was heavy for my overworked muscles, but if she'd carried Dusk up the stairs, I could carry this.
I sucked in my breath as I saw them on the bed; Dusk's eyes closed, his chest moving so faintly it looked still, and Mama June kneeling on the soft surface beside him, frowning as she hunched over his back and extracted the first arrowhead from his shoulder. Blood trickled from the wound, dark and thick black, the wrong colour.
"Set that tray here, dearling, and grab me a knife. I assume you still keep a few in your bedroom?" I did as she bid, handing her an obsidian blade I kept in my nightstand. It was thin but strong, small enough to fit comfortably in my hand but large enough to do damage if need be. I'd killed more than a few fae with it, but in the hands of Mama June, it became a surgical tool, and she used it skillfully to make incisions around the wound to bleed it of the toxic, poisoned blood. She ran her pinky along the slick edge of the arrowhead, then touched her tongue lightly to it. Her face crinkled as she swirled it about her mouth. "Well, that's just lazy. The Summer Queen isn't ever trying for subtlety these days. Open that bag and hand me the yarrow, the meadow sweet, and the fivepoint."
"What's on the arrows?" I found the herbs and handed them to her, watching as she put generous pinches into the bowl and covered them in steaming water.
"Blood peas and oleander, plants that grow in her courtyards like weeds. Effective, sure, but lazy." I smiled at Mama June's distaste. She'd been the one to teach me that poisons were an art form opposite the art of healing, and art should never be created solely for functionality. If it lacked complexity and nuance, why bother at all. "Fortunately, her laziness means healing shouldn't be too difficult. However, you are far more a threat than the poison in your current condition. Go have your bath, I don't want you contaminating his wounds further with all that filth."
I scrunched my face, but she'd already turned back to Dusk, a scalding cloth tainted with yellow water pressed into the incision marks. I descended the stairs to the soft sound of her murmuring over him and the feel of her power expanding through the space.
***
Gentle hands shook me awake, and I splashed water all over the kitchen floor as I flailed in the copper basin. Goosebumps delighted along my skin, and I blinked in the darkness, trying to see who'd woken me. Soft lips kissed my forehead, and the familiar warmth of Mama June's healing enveloped me. I relaxed into the curve of the metal tub, listening as she soothed my skin and coaxed the cuts and bruises all over my body to resolve themselves. I let her work in peace, but as she stood to leave, I reached out and grabbed her arm.
"Thank you," I whispered. The night was quiet, and breaking its silence with my voice seemed a blasphemy of the worst kind. She smiled down on me, though the shape of her mouth held a sorrowful line.
"Anything for you, dearling. I have just one favor to ask in return." I nodded and she covered my hand with hers. "Now that you are whole, don't let Lark keep believing you can love him as he wants you to."
I frowned up at her as the glow of her eyes bore into mine. "Mama June, I love Lark as I always have, and he knows that. Nothing's changed."
She laughed the laugh that followed my childhood; a piteous, patronizing sound made by those who knew more but wouldn't share. "Dearling, everything has changed." She bent and kissed my knuckles. My heart squeezed and I felt like somehow, I'd done her a terrible wrong. "We don't control what happens to us, only what effects we have on others. So, no matter what happens between you and my son, I will love you until I die. Just, please, be honest and spare him what pain you can."
"I will," I promised, though as I watched her leave, the words hung heavy and their weight settled into my heart.
***
I set a cup of tea on the nightstand and lit a candle held by a sconce on the wall. I'd had no luck settling back to sleep, and at nearly two hours past high-moon, it looked like I was done for the night, so after checking the cellar for food and verifying the firewood supply, I decided to waste the night observing the wounded male sleeping off a poisoning in my bed.
He shifted as I sat on the edge of the bed, murmuring softly to himself. I smiled as my heart squeezed painfully under my ribs. Maybe Mama June was right, maybe things had changed. In all the years I'd spent with Lark, and for all the years he'd been my lover, I'd never reacted to him like this. I loved him, sure, but maybe it wasn't the kind of love I assumed it was. It certainly didn't feel like this.
The heat radiating from Dusk's skin caused me to shiver, and even though I knew I should leave him to rest, I traced a finger along his lips, down his throat and chest, and across his hips. He made small sounds as I did, unconsciously I think, and my magic responded to him all on its own. Desire flooded from my skin into his and as it flushed, he moaned and reached for me.
I pulled away, standing and taking a few steps back, and held my breath, hoping he'd lay back down and fall asleep again. Instead, his eyes fluttered open and he sat, looking around the room in a haze. I stood still and tried to reign in the magic that'd gone wild. His gaze slid over me, his eyes coming instantly into focus, and my pulse jumped.
"I brought tea," I said nervously, "in case you wanted some."
"Was it you that brought such succulent dreams as well?" He let his eyes fall below my face, and I shifted as my blood ignited beneath his appreciation. The corner of his lip lifted, as if scanning my body prompted reminders. "I could do with living those out."
"Dreams are not a power of mine," I protested, "and you're injured."
"So? It isn't the first time, and it won't be the last," he said as he stretched his arms above his head. I watched the curve of his muscles as they rolled and tensed beneath his skin. I wanted to bite him, to bruise him, where the shoulder met the chest. Instead, I clenched my jaw.
"Drink the tea and let me see the wounds, since you're awake." Dusk flung his legs over the edge of the bed as I walked to the other side and settled in behind him. Carefully so to avoid contacting his skin directly, I lifted the linens and the bed of herbs pressed onto the wound. The wound was nearly healed, and the surrounding tissue held a normal colour. I checked the other, the one close to his heart, and sighed in relief as it too was healing well. Still, looks could be deceiving. I knew well that some poison could hide beneath the surface if healing happened too quickly.
"Is everything to your satisfaction?"
"Seems so," I pressed the herbs back in place and repositioned the wraps. "But, I'm concerned the herbs may not have had time to work fully."
"How can we tell?" He turned to me before I could get enough distance between us to avoid reacting. His breath hit my face, the smell of jasmine lingering, and my hand was tracing the line of his jaw before I knew I'd moved it; the hitch in his breath drawing attention to my actions when my consciousness hadn't considered them at all.
"I would need to cut you," I said softly as he leaned closer, the teacup in his hands forgotten completely, "and I'd need to taste your blood."
"Well then," he said, voice thick and low, "be my guest."
He kissed me, soft and sweet and restrained, until his teeth grabbed hold of my lip and tugged gently. The discipline I'd been struggling with left me then and I leaned into him with purpose. My tongue pushed his lips open and snaked into his mouth, toying with his own and prompting a moan from us both as I slid closer to him from across the bed and pressed my body into his. A clatter rang in the night as the teacup fell to the floor, but his hands were on my legs, drawing them apart and winding their way under my pale green spider silk robe, and I found I didnt care about the porcelain dish at all.
The heat radiating from Dusk's skin caused me to shiver, and even though I knew I should leave him to rest, I traced a finger along his lips, down his throat and chest, and across his hips. He made small sounds as I did, unconsciously I think, and my magic responded to him all on its own. Desire flooded from my skin into his and as it flushed, he moaned and reached for me.
I pulled away, standing and taking a few steps back, and held my breath, hoping he'd lay back down and fall asleep again. Instead, his eyes fluttered open and he sat, looking around the room in a haze. I stood still and tried to reign in the magic that'd gone wild. His gaze slid over me, his eyes coming instantly into focus, and my pulse jumped.
"I brought tea," I said nervously, "in case you wanted some."
"Was it you that brought such succulent dreams as well?" He let his eyes fall below my face, and I shifted as my blood ignited beneath his appreciation. The corner of his lip lifted, as if scanning my body prompted reminders. "I could do with living those out."
"Dreams are not a power of mine," I protested, "and you're injured."
"So? It isn't the first time, and it won't be the last," he said as he stretched his arms above his head. I watched the curve of his muscles as they rolled and tensed beneath his skin. I wanted to bite him, to bruise him, where the shoulder met the chest. Instead, I clenched my jaw.
"Drink the tea and let me see the wounds, since you're awake." Dusk flung his legs over the edge of the bed as I walked to the other side and settled in behind him. Carefully so to avoid contacting his skin directly, I lifted the linens and the bed of herbs pressed onto the wound. The wound was nearly healed, and the surrounding tissue held a normal colour. I checked the other, the one close to his heart, and sighed in relief as it too was healing well. Still, looks could be deceiving. I knew well that some poison could hide beneath the surface if healing happened too quickly.
"Is everything to your satisfaction?"
"Seems so," I pressed the herbs back in place and repositioned the wraps. "But, I'm concerned the herbs may not have had time to work fully."
"How can we tell?" He turned to me before I could get enough distance between us to avoid reacting. His breath hit my face, the smell of jasmine lingering, and my hand was tracing the line of his jaw before I knew I'd moved it; the hitch in his breath drawing attention to my actions when my consciousness hadn't considered them at all.
"I would need to cut you," I said softly as he leaned closer, the teacup in his hands forgotten completely, "and I'd need to taste your blood."
"Well then," he said, voice thick and low, "be my guest."
He kissed me, soft and sweet and restrained, until his teeth grabbed hold of my lip and tugged gently. The discipline I'd been struggling with left me then and I leaned into him with purpose. My tongue pushed his lips open and snaked into his mouth, toying with his own and prompting a moan from us both as I slid closer to him from across the bed and pressed my body into his. A clatter rang in the night as the teacup fell to the floor, but his hands were on my legs, drawing them apart and winding their way under my pale green spider silk robe, and I found I didnt care about the porcelain dish at all.
I opened my eyes a fraction as I pulled back for air, his lip trapped lightly between my teeth. He watched me, his eyes alight, and I bit hard into his skin. Instead of a pained wince, Dusk growled, his fingers digging into my skin, his nails leaving lines of crimson as they scratched deeply. I sucked his lip, the blood of his wound flowing freely between us, and my nerves danced at the metallic tang of him, settling deep between my thighs.
"No more poison," I breathed as I let his lip fall a between my teeth. Blood dripped onto his chest, and I leaned forward to lick it off.
"Oh good," he murmured, "but now, it's my turn to taste you."
