Chương 42: Selected Squirt

Squirt allowed Lord Everwinter to usher her into the room first. He'd been almost overbearing whenever she was around since she'd attempted to run away last week, but unlike the Sia-bitch, he acted to protect as much of her freedom as he could. Even if it annoyed the fuck out of her. Like that whole stunt in the courtyard. As soon as the door shut behind the other lord she did not know and the woman who, in her excitement, had almost killed her while training, Squirt gave Lord Everwinter a reproachful glare.

"Come. Have a seat, Athereon," he said as he took a seat on one of the couches, patting the space next to him. The other, as-of-yet unnamed man sat on the other couch opposite. He was a handsome, battle worn fey, thinner and lither than a typical soldier. Likely a type of fata based on his body type, or a shifter.

His eyes were swirling blues and teals which explained the abundance of magic radiating from him, his hair the silver of winter fey and not of age, a scar drawn down from his temple to his jaw on one side of his face. The lady took up a spot by the door as a typical guard, her teal eyes tersely scanning for threats. In a damn office. Gods. A brown noser. Turning her attention back to her own lord, she cast one last wary glance at the one opposite him. It was obvious he was a lord, but of what, she had no idea.

She'd had enough near deaths today and she didn't want another. Lord Everwinter smiled.

"His name is Ranin. He's mates with Brock." The man scoffed.

"I'm in the same circle, I'm not mated to that neanderthal." He shivered in playful distaste. Squirt cast another wary glance his way. In the training yard, the man had been an intimidating block of icy judgement. Here? In the office? Fully melted with a lopsided grin and everything.

"The lady is Cirn." Squirt narrowed her eyes at Lord Everwinter. He chuckled.

"You can relax, Athereon. We have much to discuss, and formalities will only get in the way." The other man, Ranin, leaned forward and reached into a pocket.

"I was told—" he grunted, "to give you this." Her jaw dropped as he held out a small wooden box only a little bigger than his hand, a carved emblem on the top of it. Abruptly, she shut her mouth and gave the man another wary look. He considered her before his eyes unfocused, his gaze slipping away in thought. When it returned to her, he gave her a smug smirk.

"I'll give them to you for the price of speaking casually here." Her eyes narrowed slightly, noting that the when was ambiguous. He either meant so long as they were in the lord's office or just this one instance. Attempting to gauge what was accepted, her eyes drifted to his guard by the door. The woman had been a terrifying force of nature on the training grounds, but now she was practically docile in comparison.

Her teal eyes, the only part of her face visible over the veil that covered the rest of it, were cold and distant. But not cold or distant with distaste, dismissal, or hatred. Like Squirt herself, she'd simply retreated into herself. Her eyes drifted back to the holy artifact still held out in offer. If he were the type of fey to lose his temper, this long of a silent consideration from a greenling would have offended him, but no matter how carefully she studied him there was not a single hint of irritation.

Just amused intrigue. Her hands reached out tentatively, stopping twice to check for signs of hostility before snatching the box and practically leaping back before he could change his mind. He barked out a laugh and she scowled at him. Sitting on the couch, awed by the box, she didn't notice that she scooted a tiny bit closer to the lord next to her as she stared reverently at the emblem. She swallowed thickly, tracing the carving with her fingers. SW. Sugar Works. The legendary holy grail of treats.

There were only two times she'd even glimpsed the box in person and once had been the Sia-bitch purposely taunting her. They said that only approved customers could even purchase from the vendor, and only one treat at a time. Her fingers trembled as she opened the box. Inside resting on soft pillows of silk to protect the fragile creations were three figurines of spun silver sugar. Three feybeasts in perfect detail.

A chameleon leopard, the frill perfectly done in astonishing translucent patterns, a slight gloss painted to it that mimicked the way the coat blended. A moon hound howling up at the sky, the paint tricking the eye into thinking it was glowing faintly with moonshine. And a phoenix, wings of flame spread out in an impressive display so realistic she thought they might burn her if she touched them. Three. Three of them. For Squirt.

The only thing more precious in the world to her in that moment was the egg held close to her chest. The other three never interrupted or drew her attention away, simply basking in the pure adoration in her eyes as her fingers hesitantly reached out to touch the treats. Tracing their edges in genuine awe. Moved didn't even begin to capture it. Squirt couldn't eat these. No matter how delicious they smelled.

Instead, with the same reverence as before, she closed the lid and stowed the box safely into her pack, a rare ghost of a smile on her lips instead of her trademark scowl. Then, like a switch flipped, she gave the other lord a wary look again. He grinned.

"Suspicious little thing, aren't you?" She didn't answer, her eyes flickering over to the guard who remained unmoved. Neither were bothered by the breech in protocol, and a tiny bit of the tension eased from her. Lowvyn, Lord Everwinter's head attendant, placed a plate of donuts and sliced fruits on the table along with some tea. Lord Everwinter said, "Leave us, Lowvyn." Squirt's attention snapped back to him. Dismissing his attendant?

She left without a word, and her lord turned to face the shrinking, glaring Squirt.

"Athereon. I must ask something of you." Wary, she curled just slightly around the warm egg by her chest. He paused.

"We're not the only territory suffering an implosion of feybeasts. The territory to the east, Norland, has requested assistance, as has the territory to the south. Her majesty the queen has asked to send you to them to train their hunters in the same techniques that were so effective here." She snapped, "Are you out of your fucking mind—""These two are hoping to take you with them when they leave.

They will be your protection—""Gods damn it, I don't need protection, I need to be left the fuck alone—""Any components you gather or beasts you discover will be yours to do with as you will. I'll be sending Anvanil to help teach them the traps you gave schematics for. It's possible, as you travel, you could discover more effective uses of them for the individualized territories. Blazing ants have never crossed the rivers, after all." She gave him a hard stare.

"You're fucking serious, aren't you?" The lord nodded solemnly.

"I sent Lowvyn from the room because I'm about to ask probably the cruelest thing I could ask of you." Squirt reared back with a snarl before he continued, barreling over her objections. The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

"I want you to show them your wings." She froze, her eyes wide. His gaze softened to one of apology.

"They need to understand what I did not, Athereon." Visible vulnerability threatened to spill over her eyes as she bared her teeth and bit out, "Why bother? All it takes is one. One fey ranked higher than them—" His friend quietly interrupted the argument, startling Squirt as he did.

"There is only one that is higher than me, and I assure you, it is entirely by choice." Baffled by the derailment mid-rant, she gave him an odd look. Then carefully scanned over his clothes. His very fine clothes. The regal air around him.

When the huntress returned her gaze to Lord Everwinter, Ranin noted with surprise that his friend actually winced and shrank back from the tiny pixie. This time when she spoke, it was not a burst of sound but a quiet, even tone.

"Are you telling me that's the gods damn lord prince of our kingdom? That Brock is?" Bartos winced again.

"… ah, well, they are good friends of mine, and we didn't want to… stress you." The rage made her jump to her feet as she snapped at the now shrinking lord.

"Are you fucking kidding me? Do you have any idea—no wonder —you could have gotten me killed if I hadn't recognized his title—gods, I yelled at him in public!" Ranin barely smothered his burst of laughter, trying his hardest to not interrupt as Bartos, the perfect lordling, perfect soldier, perfect commander, and perfect prince, got chewed out by a diminutive greenling pixie filled with fury and rage. He couldn't wait to tell Annabelle. Eventually his friend heaved a sigh.

"Forgive me. I wasn't thinking at the time. I had been planning on telling you today, but it came out sooner than expected." She huffed, saying dryly, "Sooner than expected, really?" Then she her brows furrowed, and she crossed her arms.

"… well?"

"Well?" She huffed again.

"… why do my wings matter?" she said, her tone almost antagonistic defeat. His friend sighed, his eyes on his laced together hands, his elbows on his knees.

"… I want to explain my mistakes. I cannot go with you. I cannot protect you. You, Athereon, are meant to be free to roam, which makes protecting you difficult without infringing on that."

"What does my sob story have to do with protecting me?" she muttered bitterly. Ranin's friend didn't speak for a long while, simply staring at his hands. Hunched over like he was attempting to make himself physically smaller. Finally, he said, "It is your story, Athereon. Just yours. Not a sob story to gain sympathy, a story of you to gain understanding." When he lifted his eyes to her, they were just as contemplative as ever, but there was a strength of conviction to them.

"Your wings do not define who you are, Athereon, but they do determine what you can do." Ranin waited with bated breath, stunned at the drama playing out before him and now insatiably curious. No one had mentioned anything about her wings. Her voice came out bitter and stubborn.

"I'm not a damn sideshow."

"Never," Bartos agreed firmly. Now the pixie's eyes dropped. Even her whisper sounded stubborn.

"I don't need to go."

"You don't. But why would I make you stay?" From his position, Ranin couldn't see the way her eyes watered, but he saw the answering tenderness in his friend and the way she dropped her head after. Shifting, her hands fell from her hips as she fell back into silent thought.

"… will… will I come back?" His friend chuckled, the sound just a touch heavy with emotion.

"Yes." She nodded once.

"… if I die, I'm haunting you to death." He smiled reassuringly. The huntress huffed. Then she turned to regard Ranin.

"… I want to be back here before autumn hits." Ranin tried not to be obvious in his relief as he nodded.

"I'll make sure that happens." Bartos intoned pleadingly, "Please." Ranin studied his friend, his serious commander face back.

"Is there a reason?" The pixie immediately dropped her eyes as a bright blush colored her face all the way to the tips of her slightly pointed ears, looking somewhere between murderous and mortified. His friend gave her a sidelong look before saying simply, "Feldan is returning in autumn." Ranin gave him a hard stare.

"… you're shitting me."

"Nope."

"Feldan. The Feldan. Our Feldan." Each time he said his name, the tiny pixie woman winced a little and, remarkably, turned just a touch redder. Ranin gave her another once over with awed respect.

"… I'll be damned. How'd you tame the kid?" Her eyes slid to the side and her lips pressed firmly together as she muttered, "How the hell should I know? One minute, I'm running for my life from a pack of wild feybeasts, the next, the pest is calling me a goddess and now I can't get rid of him." Ranin threw his head back with an uncontrollable burst of laughter.

He calmed himself until he was chuckling and said, "Okay, back by autumn or we'll have one very angry secreted prince from the country we're currently at war with on our doorstep. Got it. Anything else?" Bartos took over, facing his friend calmly.

"The routes will be up to you, but so long as she remains within range of your group, she should have the freedom to wander. Wherever you end up staying, give her space for a full bedroom and laboratory. Any of her inventions, if you use them, you patent them if they are not already. Any circles or tools she comes up with for you, same rules. You patent, you foot the cost of any materials she needs.

Should you enter the depths of the Wylds, you follow her lead and keep her by your side—she has the best surge instincts I've ever known. We'll go over the strategy with the ritual stones in the next few days—" The huntress burst out, "I can't make the ritual stones without the pest!" Lord Everwinter gave her a considering look.

"I will supply the magic for you to make whatever tools you need." Ranin's brows raised, impressed at the display of trust. Then blinked. Then slowly grinned, his eyes now flickering between them. Fury in her eyes, her fists clenched, she hissed out, " When?" He glanced away from her, fidgeting with his hands and… no. Was his friend… bashful?

"It… was my wolf." Her tension immediately eased as she just said, "Oh."

"Sorry."

"Gods damnit, stop apologizing—""You want me to not apologize to you when I'm in the wrong?"

"No—just—for the love the gods, you're not supposed to admit to it so fucking easily!" Bartos shot her a teasing smile, propping his chin up on his palm. She huffed again. The moment between them ended as his friend returned attention to him.

"In the depths of the Wylds, keep her close. On the Outskirts, let her roam freely. In any cities or towns, stay by her side. Even with my orders of protection, at almost the first opportunity, three of my Guard cornered her and beat her for existing." She crossed her arms and huffed before muttering, "Technically they offered their cocks, I just chose their fists." It wasn't what she said, but how she said it that turned Ranin's blood to ice.

Like offering their cocks somehow absolved them of some of the wrong instead of adding to it. He said tightly, "That's blasphemy."

"Yeah, well, it's saved me a few beatings in my life, and sometimes I even enjoyed it." It was not either Ranin or Bartos who broke at that statement, but Cirn.

In one smooth motion, Bartos pulled the pixie woman into his chest and covered her with his cloak. She almost protested as she curled protectively around the egg, but the shockwave of magic she could feel just beyond the cloak stopped the words in her throat.

In that same moment, Ranin watched Bartos as he grabbed the pixie, his own rage bubbling over met by a brief flash of gratitude for Bartos's calm nature, when he noticed his friend had amber eyes instead dual colored. Meaning that protecting the pixie came first to the wolf in him over that disgusting statement even to his beast. Meaning his beast genuinely cared for her safety in a way only packmates would.

And at that same moment, Cirn realized how very alike she and the pixie were to have been offered that same bargain multiple times in their lives. Only she'd never been tempted to say yes, because none of them succeeded in beating her. Ranin snapped out of the moment first as he commanded, "Restrain yourself, Cirn, or you will hurt your charge." Horror followed as Cirn came back to her senses from the burst of feminine rage.

Squirt, meanwhile, risked peeking out from the lord's cloak, her jaw dropping at the scene before her. The entire office was glittering white, her breath ghosting in front of her lips where it escaped the circle of the lord's protection. The ice had solidified the lord's cloak over her back. Yeah, that might have actually killed her. Gods damn it all. Slowly, the ice shifted, receding back towards the woman at the door, her teal eyes full of shame and regret.

Once safe, Squirt slid from the lord's hold to stand again, her hands clutched possessively on the bundle hanging around her chest. Frowning, Lord Prince Ranin asked, "What's that? That you carry." She glared at him but slowly unwrapped the bundle to reveal the faintly glowing oblong egg. She muttered petulantly, "It's my proof." His eyes slid to Lord Everwinter in question, who answered, "Dungeon." Again, the lord's brows rose appreciatively.

"She cleared one?" She muttered, "All by myself, thank you very much." He let out a low whistle and smiled.

"May I see it? Just to look, not touch. I'll see if my mate can dig anything up about it for you." Squirt's expression immediately flattened.

"… you're literally going to have the Queen investigate?"

"No, but one of her other mates will be over the moon to investigate." Squirt muttered darkly to herself about titled fey that could shove their super god powers up their collective butts. Still, even if she was reluctant, she held out the egg for inspection, even turning it slowly for him. He nodded slowly before his eyes fluttered closed. She gave him an odd look, then paled when she realized he was doing it this very moment.

Lord Everwinter leaned in towards her and asked, "Will you allow me to negotiate for your journey on your behalf?" Her expression flattened and she side eyed him.

"Like you weren't already?" He smiled.

"You will not ask for enough for yourself. And I will make sure there will be books available for you at every stop. I've already ordered some from the Grand Central Library." Her eyes wide and pleading, she unknowingly gave him the one face none of them could resist as she asked, "Really?" Every inch of him melted in response as he said, "Really." For the briefest of moments, she truly, genuinely smiled.

Ranin eventually fluttered his eyes open, glancing out of habit at Lady Cirn only to see utter adoration sparkling in her eyes. Returning his attention to the pair in front of him, he blinked in surprise at the soft smile on the pixie's face and the sheer adoration in Bartos's. No. It couldn't be. Could it? The famous, forever bachelor? Annabelle, ever the voice of reason, spoke in his mind. I highly doubt it, Ranin. They were still in their little moment, so he shot back, You sure?

Because I've never quite seen him melt like that. He sent her the image of the almost dopey smile on Lord Everwinter's face, and in an instant, he knew she was suddenly paying rapt attention to their conversation. A tiny bit smug, he leaned back in his seat, intent on televising the rest of their conversation to his listening mate as he did.