Chương 80: Courted Squirt

By the end of the day, Squirt was genuinely surprised with how comfortable Jezalin—no, wait, Lady Jezalin was to be around. Shit. Damnit. Fuck. She'd always had a weakness for the feminine sex. The fallen didn't comment when Squirt's wings popped out as she munched on the donut, though Squirt tried to make it look intentional and related to enchanting, so that might have been why. She was calm and attentive as Squirt used her magic, comfortable with the silence of concentration between them.

Similar, in a way, to Lord Everwinter. When she had done this ritual with him. Gods, the elders were going to kill her. She wouldn't be surprised if the old bats already knew how many she'd "collected" and were planning a hit. The pits had no fury like a greenling elder. No. If they knew and were taking steps, they were most likely spinning it that she was some sort of godly exception. No, wait—Leaf had thought her dead. Meaning the elders likely did, too… no, she couldn't make that assumption.

Better to assume someone was trying to kill her than wasn't. The task was now familiar enough that her mind occasionally wandered between steps towards contemplating her death for flaunting the sacredness of being found by her "destined one" or whatever other nonsense they were spouting off now— They finished the staffs and Squirt eyed the lady, still leery of the comfortable silence. Jezalin poured herself a cup of water before studying Squirt's expression.

The slightest smirk on her face was followed by an entirely too innocent one as she sipped on the water.

"Something the matter?" Squirt scowled.

"Why purposely create rumors?" Naturally as breathing, Jezalin answered, "To stake a claim." Squirt's expression flattened. No. Gods damn it, no. Jezalin chuckled.

"Relax. The rumors would fly regardless. They're still building houses, so there aren't any other available spaces within the confines of the village, and the lord is spending time with his daughter and her allochild in the Wylds under the guise of enacting my punishment on the trio of teens. The tent wasn't going to be used for anything, and frankly, I wanted the silence." There wasn't any animosity in the statement. It was clear that her desire for silence was as genuine as her comfort with Squirt breaking it.

Squirt sat back, a bit of the tension easing from her limbs as she switched from her knees to cross legged on the ground.

"… I thought light mages were all… you know… fey happy." She snorted.

"You're not the only one that comes with scars," she muttered more darkly.

"I am a healer because that is what I am good at—that doesn't mean that I necessarily enjoy the company of those I've healed." Squirt narrowed her eyes fractionally.

"And yet you enjoy mine?"

"At least so far." That slightly sultry smirk was back, a hint of teasing to her tone. She was flirting. With Squirt. Squirt glared, though much to her chagrin, her cheeks heated no matter how much she wished they wouldn't. Dropping her gaze, she muttered, "Damn fetishists…" under her breath. Jezalin sipped her water.

"I'm not a fetishist for greenling, if that's your implication." Squirt raised a brow.

"Implying you're a fetishist for something else."

"I do love a good woman on top, and I admit to having a thing for scars."

"A healer. With a thing for scars."

"Guilty as charged." Squirt exhaled sharply, dropping her gaze away again with a muttered, "Yeah, that tracks." Then she shook her head and gripped it between her hands.

"No, wait, nothing tracks—" Jezalin chuckled.

"Relax. I'm not putting moves on you, just enjoying the view and a bit of peace before I must return to the Capital. Besides," she leaned forward with a twinkle in her eye, "I hear you've already got a certain stupid pretty pixie prince." Squirt reared back as a deep blush bloomed across her cheeks no matter how much she bared her teeth. Jezalin visibly ate up the flustered scowl on her face before tactfully changing subjects.

"Tomorrow you'll likely head for Gloomwood, and I will return to the Capital. With any luck, we'll be able to root out the mercenaries looking to take you back to Skye just in time for us to kidnap their wayward prince for the winter." Squirt dropped her eyes, a weight of seriousness entering her expression.

"… fey are going to die because that pest is coming back, aren't they?" Jezalin shrugged.

"The ones that do were merely looking for the excuse. And now that we've prepared, we're already taking steps to ensure that they can't call on their allies for us kidnapping him. Not when he's here willingly." Squirt's expression flattened. She took another sip of water.

"And by here, I mean he's in the Capital with his Athereon lover." Squirt snorted.

"And how are you going to sell that bullshit?"

"Oh, a bit of this, a bit of that… a touch of illusion there, some whispered words here. It's quite easy. In fact, Athereon has made an appearance in over ten territories in the last few weeks." Squirt gave her a hard stare. Jezalin shrugged.

"The courtiers are excited to have a tantalizing mystery on their hands, and it gives Annabelle a bit of ammunition to distract them with." Squirt blinked rapidly.

"Annabelle? Who is Annabelle?"

"A dear friend of mine who works in Capital politics, gods bless her." The deflection drew Squirt's suspicion. Not the type that raised her hackles, just her eyes.

"… the gods damned queen is using Lord Everwinter's nickname for me for court political games?"

"Quite successfully, too. Which reminds me—do you happen to know why no greenlings are recorded on the Capital census?" Squirt's expression immediately shuttered.

"Gee, I don't know, maybe because we're not considered important—""Nulls and greenskins are not only recorded, but heavily researched. Yet we know practically nothing about greenling pixies." Squirt fell silent.

"… no matter. Every fey has their secrets after all." Squirt more than most. Silence fell between them again as Squirt refocused on the last of the hypnostone enchantments, the heaviness of it now stifling and stiff, Squirt's movements mechanical. Though it was barely dinner by the time they finished, Squirt was rubbing her eyes. She stood and bowed to Jezalin, who took no offense no matter how closed off Squirt was, then left the tent to find a corner in which to sleep.

Pakos gave her a mental tug before he led her back to the stall in the barn she'd woken up in. Without another word, she cleaned herself up for bed, curled against his side, and promptly passed out. The most deliciously intoxicating smell woke Squirt in the early morning light. She blinked the sleep from her eyes, realizing she had a blanket covering her and a shadowfell tendril wrapped around her ankle.

"Good morning, pricklebear!" She scowled at the redcap before her eyes fell on the stove she had made him. She stared. He grinned.

"I'm making you pancakes. With fresh fruits. Because I'm, uh…" he struggled, "Sweet! Because I'm sweet and shit like that." But how could he… She slowly turned to stare at Zhadin as they melted from the shadows. That little minx. They had told the redcap she liked sweets— Saliva pooled in her mouth, and she swallowed thickly. This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. Qzi grinned.

"Oh, right, and a messenger arrived yesterday." Squirt blinked rapidly as Qzi shifted around behind him, grabbing a dimensional pouch and a stack of what she swore were letters.

"These're for you, pricklebear." She took them gingerly, and he hummed a happy tune as he flipped the fruit stuffed pancake with a concentration he normally only had while skinning a beast. Still stuck on the fact that the fell was clearly working with the redcap and not merely tolerant of his presence, she stared at Qzi. He flipped the pancake again before dishing it out on a plate and handing it to her. My. Got your hands full there, huh? She glared at Pakos. You're so popular.

Muttering darkly about skinning a mutt, she set the letters and dimensional pouch down to accept the plate with both hands. For a while she simply held the plate in her lap as she frowned over the various letters. One from Tobias. One from the pest. One from Lord Everwinter.

Then there was a series of reports written in a neat, elegant script cover the current rumors floating around the Capital about the Great Athereon as well as the countermeasures going in place to keep her identity secret, and another report written in what could be best described as utilitarian chicken scratch that she was eventually able to decode was a list. Of books. Her eyes slowly turned with a gleam to the dimensional bag waiting for her.

To test her theory, she held one of the titles of the book in her mind as she reached into the pouch. Bingo. She almost ignored the letters entirely in favor of reading the precious tome, but that buttery scent of pancake cooked with sweet berries was calling to her. She couldn't risk it. Instead, she carefully tucked the book away, deciding to open the lord's first, assuming it was some official correspondence.

Picking up the pancake with one hand, she bit into it, her eyes almost fluttering at the heavenly fluff of the batter as she scanned over his letter. Then she frowned. Checked the back. Did that fucker just… He did. He absolutely did. The letter was short. Forward and pointed without being curt. Simply hoping she was well and asking if she'd encountered any new beasts of particular note, or if she had any stories to share like the Favets.

It wasn't phrased like an academic discussion or request for more encyclopedia pages, though the topic was the same. He ended the letter with a prayer that the Hunt was keeping her safe and free, that Kenna had decided to call her Athi for short, and a casual comment about looking forward to her return come autumn. He… wrote her a social letter. To ask her about feybeasts and wish her well. She sighed. At least he didn't wax poetic or confess any damn attraction.

She couldn't decide whether Jezalin's casualness was better or worse than Qzi's overtures, and frankly, there was more than enough relationship drama to go around. Munching on the pancake, she opened Tobias's next. Half of it was a more formal report on the progress of the hunters and the buffering of their ranks, while the rest was inane gossip about said ranks. Tobias had a nose for romance that made his own situation that much more ironic.

How he hadn't figured out Telos's interest in him was a miracle that never ceased to amaze Squirt. She genuinely couldn't tell if it was willful or not. Last but not least, the pest's letter. Inside were not one, but three letters written over the course of what appeared to be a week, a palm-sized flat stone, followed by more sonnets and drawings of her face that she swore had some kind of beauty filter on it. She looked far too disheveled in real life for them to be in any way accurate.

She stood up, wandering off to find some privacy to read the pest's letters, climbing up into the rafters and facing the sunrise. Letters in one hand, stone in the other, she leaned against a post with her legs dangling over the air to read his words. Thankfully, both Qzi and Zhadin let her retreat. In fact, Zhadin stayed in this plane down below her, almost like they were purposely showing that they were giving her that space.

She scowled and ignored the gratitude for it, since of all those who seemed to be weirdly attached to her, Zhadin had the ability to spy on her without her ever knowing. Even Pakos stayed below in the barn stall, the bond between them dimming to give her just that little bit of extra privacy. Something she greatly appreciated. Because gods damnit, the pest was even charismatic in writing.

Casually, she rubbed the stone with her thumb as she read his words, a semi-permanent blush on her cheeks at the casual care and interest he showed in every word. His first letter had explained that he knew she couldn't respond, but that she rarely left his mind, and writing to her kept him from going mad in the gilded halls of his home. At first, she had rolled her eyes at the lonely prince complaining about his situation, but truthfully, in privacy like this, she could admit that she knew what it was like.

He didn't fear for his life like she did, but not because he lacked people attempting to kill him. Much to her frustration, he shared the story of two assassination attempts between the three letters and how he valiantly vanquished the foes. This was stupid. She was worrying over a man who laughed in the face of danger. He was so stupid. So stupid. Shifting, she laid down on her side as she read over the words again, worries plaguing her as she read through the letters.

The more he described his captivity, the more it reminded her of her own forty-year stint under the Sia-bitch. Which was stupid for a number of reasons, the first of which being that he had power while she had had none. Regardless of the logic… she empathized. Hated that she did but did regardless. At the end of the last letter, he finally mentioned the stone. I confess, I'm going mad, my goddess, with wanting to hear your voice and see your face—even if all you do is scowl and snap at me.

The stone I included is one I made myself. It has enough for a single use. One of these nights, I beg for you to use it so I might see your face once more. Though it might be best to find some privacy, knowing how shy you are. Use it at night when you are alone. I'll be waiting. Ever devoted, Your Pest Squirt had no idea what purpose the stone had from his cryptic words, since there were no enchantment runes. Knowing him, he had conjured it. Asshole. Her eyes unfocused, her thumb rubbed over the smooth stone.

Likely, all she needed was a touch of magic to activate it, though he had naturally not included any real instructions. At night, hm? With his descriptions of his captivity, and the words unsaid, she had to assume that nighttime was when he was sure he wouldn't be interrupted by castle staff. He'd not written about any conflict with his father, so perhaps that part was just rumor? Maybe she was worried for nothing. Gods damnit, she was worried about him.

At least it was unlikely the letters were written by anyone else. His way with words was too unique. Her eyes went back to the pages, reading over the letters and trying to interpret what he hadn't said. He'd mentioned he'd rejected all of his suitors. Surely, though, that was a bad idea? He'd also mentioned that he'd told no one about her, and yet, there was a bounty on the head of Athereon. Was he lying? Stretching the truth to manipulate her? Or was he just so in the clouds he had no idea about the bounty?

And what was it the stone would do? He was so gods damn cryptic. See her face? Would it transfer her image to him, or her voice, too? Did it record a message, or was it a dimensional sound spell that would allow her to speak to him as if he were next to her? If she could record a message, what would she say? If she could speak to him, what should she ask? Should she prioritize questions for the sake of their country and the impending war? Or was he so sheltered in his rooms that he knew nothing of use?

And if she prioritized herself… what would she ask? Yes, okay, there was a brief exchange at their parting where she agreed to allow him to court her, and yes, okay, he had clearly written sonnets in several languages that were surprisingly well done, but… frankly they'd barely spoken. They had nothing in common. She sighed, curling up and hugging her legs to her chest. This was stupid. It was the pest. He could probably make a discussion on leaf color charming and fun. Why the fuck did he choose her? And…

how long did she realistically have before he stopped? Months? Years? Centuries? What did he want out of this thing between them? He had never spoken of mating and only flirted with the idea of sex. Other than that? She had no idea if he was thinking at all. No, wait, she took that back. Scowling at the distant horizon, she conceded that he was definitely not thinking. Some fey were incredibly possessive of their partners at any level of emotional intimacy.

Would he go on a jealous rage and kill Qzi and Zhadin over their blatant attentions? Somehow… she doubted it. Though it was weird to her that he was apparently starving himself carnally for her. There was nothing wrong with his needs getting seen to when they hadn't done more than shared a single chaste peck. Okay, two chaste pecks. Point being, she was clearly overthinking it. He indicated privacy and nighttime but included no instructions on how to activate the damn thing.

Tucking the stone into the letters, she stored the parcel in her pouch and decided that he'd clearly occupied far too much of her mind already. She had shit to do and people to see. He could wait until tonight. Zhadin took in the redcap's petulant expression before the man finally sighed, giving up. As he should. Their huntress needed this space. She was growing more comfortable around them, and they would defend their spot by her side to the death if necessary.

The redcap had been their project since before she came into being, and they had no qualms removing him from this plane of existence if he failed to respect the boundaries set. Then again, it wasn't her boundaries, technically, since she never set them. Still, Qzi respected Zhadin enough to listen—barely. The redcap muttered while washing the dishes, "Spoilsport." Only because there would be a greater prize in the end.

Normally the redcap's antics amused them, which was why they had chosen to take the runt on as a project to begin with. That, and he had technically saved Annabelle's life in a crucial moment, allowing their coup to succeed. Meaning for better or worse, they owed the redcap. Qzi muttered, "Aren't you going to read your letter?" They supposed they should. Now that the redcap interrupting their huntress was no longer a consideration, they pulled the letter out of their extra-dimensional space, scanning over it.

A missive from Lord Everwinter himself. Interesting. They opened it, scanning over the contents and translating the cipher in their head as they did. Zhadin— Telos spotted a ship heading east along the far side of the mountains. We've received no further reports since. It has all but disappeared into the ether. My concern is Telos's observation of ancient shadow magic being used. I've already sent a missive to your parent to inform them of the situation, and they asked that I inform you as well.

They did not sense any shadow magic passing by their boundary and are certain the ship did not reach the mountains of Gloomwood. Keep watch in the shadow plane. Do not engage directly. The power of the fey wielding the shadow magic was enough to outclass Telos, meaning even you would be outmatched. I have sent Ranin a missive as well to inform him of the situation, including that you will scout from the shadow plane and report if you find anything. Don't be reckless.

Lord Bartos Regali of Everwinter Interesting on multiple counts. Their huntress was restless in the rafters. She would not want to linger longer in the area. They would make no promises to Ranin or their parent unless this being crossed paths with her. Knowing the gods as they did, that was an oddly strong possibility. Much like Annabelle, their huntress seemed to attract danger. A grin tugged up their lips, excited at the idea, at the challenge of knowing whoever this being was outclassed Telos.

Their huntress would be drawn to the danger. This time, unlike Riverlands, they would make certain no one harmed her. She was theirs. She just didn't know it yet.