Chương 99: Dusty's Role (he really should have known)

By the time Kenna and Dusty arrived in the stables, Dusty had gone pale at the noise behind the door, rushing forward to throw it open only to stand frozen in stunned amazement. There was Athereon, the same woman who had run out of the wolves' den almost two hours ago, sitting on a crate as she took notes. He watched, listening to her ask pointed, blunt questions of the group of greenlings before her.

She finished noting down whatever she was scribbling with a charcoal pen on some leather scraps bound into a book of sorts, and then waved the group off, calling, "Next!" While he watched, she began interviewing the next small group with the same brisk efficiency she had interviewed the previous group with. Behind him, he heard the quiet, smug, playful tone of the wolf Lady Kenna.

"Told you." A weight he hadn't realized he'd been carrying slipped from his shoulders. Thank the gods. She was helping. He didn't have to do this all alone. The door to the courtyard opened as a few of them started bringing dishes of food to the youngest and oldest first, the food rich and hearty smelling, making Dusty's stomach growl. He ignored it. He'd eat last like he had every day since he left the Capital, because he had quickly realized that Annabelle must have said something to Zoln.

Even if there was nothing left, a meal would always appear for Dusty. Knowing Annabelle, her instructions to Lord Everwinter would likely be much the same. The meals were healthy, well-balanced, perfectly portioned, high-quality dishes. He missed the greenling stew pots. In awed silence he watched as Squirt efficiently directed the others into a well-crafted ballet of chaos. They all jumped to obey any barked command she gave out, and not a single one there questioned her authority.

Arguably more incredible was the shadowfell at her side. The longer he stared at them, the more convinced Dusty was that their power was greater than it seemed. Their control was impeccable, but there was something about the density of darkness in the shadows closest to them, shadows darker than the rest of the room, that made Dusty's stomach clench uncomfortably. Annabelle had a mate like that. Perfectly played it off as being far weaker than he actually was.

Perhaps the shadowfell alerted her to his presence, or perhaps she somehow sensed him over the hushed din, as in the next moment, her head whipped around to spot them at the doorway. The rest of the greenlings paused in their movements to turn towards Dusty, their eyes then drifting towards the beautiful wolf shifter with nervous deference. Squirt glared at Dusty. Then her eyes flickered to Lady Kenna. She huffed, the hostility traded for tolerance, then went back to interviewing the group before her.

Lady Kenna sauntered forward, leaning on the cart where Squirt had sat, gazing over at the leather scraps she was writing on.

"Organizing them into skill groups, I see?"

"Obviously," came the annoyed reply. Then she snapped at the shrinking greenlings around her, "Knock it the fuck off. If I'm comfortable around them, then you can stop fucking flinching. Now answer the gods damned question." As with all of her orders, they promptly obeyed, answering what little they knew about farming, leatherwork, and smithing. Dusty glanced around the space, nervously switching his weight from foot to foot and fidgeting with his hands, feeling more lost than he had in weeks.

Normally he was the one directing everyone else. Squirt did not offer him any direction, leaving him unsure of how to step into the chaos without disrupting it. Lady Kenna addressed Squirt, "Going to write a report?" The brusque woman grunted in response.

"Need any parchment? Ink?" Dusty blinked as the pixie woman barely registered the question, like the use of such expensive materials wasn't an honor. She didn't dwell or defer despite being in public, just stated bluntly, "No. I've plenty. If you want to make yourself useful—" she pointed out four greenlings nervously waiting by the side.

"Take them to Quint. She's taking them on." To Dusty's further surprise, Lady Kenna was visibly stunned by this declaration.

"… willingly?"

"Yes, they're joining another. All useless with a blade and non-violent as they come." Dusty should hope so, particularly since at least one of them was still only a teen. Lady Kenna considered the group.

"I can do that, so long as Dusty accompanies us." Squirt's eyes snapped up, narrowing at Kenna. Some silent thing passed between them, an understanding of a sorts. Dusty frowned, holding up his hands.

"It's fine. I can just stay here while you—" Squirt snorted as the lady crossed her arms and smiled, somehow communicating with absolute certainty how wrong he was. He faltered, glancing between them as Squirt's glare went from tolerance to frosty. She turned back to the greenlings she was interviewing, muttering, "Idiot," as she did. Still unsure of what he was missing, Dusty tried again.

"I appreciate your kindness, Lady Kenna, but I am no more important than any of the others here—" Stolen novel; please report. The charcoal pen in Squirt's hand snapped. Standing up, she shoved her notes into the hands of another greenling before jumping off the wagon she'd been seated on, muttering, "Wait here," and stalking over to Dusty. Though the lady had been between them, she gracefully shifted out of Squirt's way, leaving Dusty somewhat trembling in nervous anticipation.

Squirt grabbed his arm, pulling him out of the storage room and into the main barn area, away from all of the curious eyes. Only once they were alone did she release him. Dusty rubbed the pain from her grip on his arm away, waiting for her to speak. She glowered at him, and he found himself shrinking back. She had no magic authority over him, no power to crush him with a thought, just a deep wellspring of rage that left him on edge. Finally, she exhaled sharply out her nose and said, "Did you mate her?" He blinked.

That wasn't exactly the direction he thought she was going. He nodded slowly.

"She's my fey." Something cold flashed into Squirt's eyes, and for half a second, Dusty had a sudden, terrifying fear she'd kill him. The moment passed, and though his limbs trembled slightly, he was able to relax his shoulders. Swallowing, he winced at himself. That had been insensitive of him. Not everyone's fey reciprocated, and mating was even rarer. Unheard of, for someone at Annabelle's caliber. He flushed in shame at his slipup.

"I… I mean… yes." He'd never admitted it before.

"Do they know you mated her?" Of course not. He wasn't a fool. He'd not said anything to anyone about it. It'd been a risk, he knew. A calculated one, but a risk nonetheless. Now Annabelle wouldn't forget him. The small amount of progress he'd made with larger, powerful fey wouldn't be lost, even if she never revealed the scandal of the millennium to the world at large. Being her mate, and not just a bed partner, gave him more protections than ever before.

Protections he intended to wield for the sake of his people. So long as he was alive, they'd be guaranteed the chance to try again. He'd make sure of it. Squirt shattered his musings.

"You're a fucking idiot and you should have said no." He reared back, his own anger rising at the insinuation that Annabelle was ever a mistake— She continued without mercy.

"Congratulations on your ascension, lord prince, but we greenlings are too lowly for your consideration. Go back to the den and wait like a good fucking royal. You're a distraction at best and incompetent at worst." He froze. Silence hung between them as she glared defiantly at him. Stalled, it took precious seconds for his mind to begin running again.

"That's preposterous."

"That's the fucking truth." He shook his head, "No, I—" She took a step closer, her fists clenched with promises of violence and her eyes flashing in rage as she hissed out, "You mated the fucking queen. By law, you are a lord prince. Kenna is here because she now has to act as your guard. Hush hush or not, your title is implicit, and you can never be one of us again. Do you hear me? You'd place too gods damned big of a target on all our backs." Dumbfounded, he stared at her, numb to the world. A… a greenling?

As a lord prince? His hand raked through his hair. No. No, no, no. That… that would change everything. It would— His food. It hit him, with a violent burst of clarity, that she was right. How could he have been so stupid? Lady Kenna had referred to him as Lord Everwinter's ward. Zoln had been at his side every waking moment since they left the palace. Even his food was of higher quality than everyone else's. His thoughts racing, his heart fought against the realization. No. He couldn't be.

This was simply the best path forward, a chance to make sure distance didn't lose them the first chance they had of equality in recorded memory. He was providing security for their future, ensuring it, and dedicating his life to the most amazing woman he'd ever known in one fell swoop. He had chosen to put his people first, always, he couldn't have been so blinded he never realized— But he had. All his words had been empty promises. Promises that were broken the moment he chose love by mistaking it for freedom.

To his surprise, the anger in her eyes dimmed somewhat, seemingly mollified by his visible grief. She scowled, dropping her eyes as she did so, and muttered, "There are other things you can do. Bigger things the rest of us can't do. But if it came down to it, they would let every other greenling die to save you. Get used to having a guard and find some other way to be useful—sooner or later a greenling with a guard is going to draw attention. Questions will be asked.

You'll put the rest in danger because you're now an easy way to hurt the queen." The blood drained from his face.

"I… Annabelle?" Annabelle was the path forward for his people, yes. But she was also his fey. His greatest love. The one he would be loyal to forever. If it were anyone else, any other fey, he could deny that his death would hurt them as anything more than a passing inconvenience. But Annabelle? Annabelle wouldn't let him go quietly. She wouldn't sacrifice him easily. Now, more than ever before, having shared his soul with her, he knew that her love was true. His death would hurt her.

A full minute of silence passed between the two. Dusty spiraled. Squirt considered him. Finally, dropping her eyes away, she murmured, "I'm sure the Queen knew that going into it." More pieces of that last night with her fell into place for Dusty, and in a dazed voice, he said, "Our names." Squirt, confused by his shift, gave him an odd look. Weary with realization and the shattering of his world, he said, "It… you don't use your real one." Squirt's eyes turned lethal again.

"Why?" She gave the question more thought than he would have expected, the edge of anger blunted by contemplation. Eventually, she said, "Names have power. We already have so little. Only a fool would give away the only control they have so easily." For once, the tone was not cuttingly pointed at him. Instead, her eyes were downcast, her tone bitter, and he realized in this case, the fool she was referring to was herself. That only served to make him feel twice the fool.

Was that the reason other fey were open with their names, and greenlings were not? That others took for granted the power inherent to them while greenlings were forced to claw and fight for the right to simply live? Squirt visibly shook herself from whatever dark thoughts had passed through her mind, turning back towards the door and saying, "You can come out now, Kenna." The lady somehow stepped out from behind Dusty, startling him out of his self-deprecating thoughts as she casually asked, "How'd you know?"

"I didn't."

"Clever. I totally fell for it." Squirt muttered about stalker shadows as she passed Dusty to return to the storage room, pausing in the doorway and eyeing him again. Dusty's back straightened under her attention, which somehow only made her scowl deepen. Her lip curled up in distaste before she said, "Take the four to the quartermaster as you go. And consider acting as Kenna's servant, at least in public.

You can explain it away with the surplus of greenlings—if we give all of the trusted title holders their own greenling, you'll blend in more." He nodded, still processing how quickly the rug had been pulled from under him. He was supposed to be organizing them per Puds' proposed plan to protect her, not him.

"Well then," she said, bowing politely to him first, startling him into realizing he really was ranked as highly as she said, before bowing to Lady Kenna, and then returning to the larger room. For the first time in his life, Dusty stared through the crack of the door at the greenlings gathering together and bedding down in the straw and hay, knowing he would likely be sleeping in far finer accommodations, wanting nothing more than the comfort of sleeping in a huddle of fey on scratchy straw.