Bo clung, dimly noting the way the dryad recoiled from Everil. The dryad said something, but all Bo heard was Everil’s furious snarl. The lash of Everil’s hand, silver-lined and clawed, river-snake quick.
It happened so fast. The dryad too close to get away, and Everil’s claws tore over the dryad’s bark-like skin, barely marking it. Turned out, that wasn’t the point. A gasping, hideous gurgle as the dryad started to choke. Green eyes wide with terror, and the treesscreamedas he collapsed, clutching at his throat the same way Bo just had.
The susurration ended with the dryad’s final, pathetic gasp. Turned out Everil didn’t even need a bathtub.
Bo struggled to breathe, air coming too quickly and too frantic. Everil made it easier, holding him at arms’ length for a full study, like he’d not just offed a dryad and Bo wasn’t halfway to hyperventilating. Bo stared at him and felt his fucking chin tremble.
“Sorry,” someone said. Bo. Bo said. “Sorry. I didn’t– Texted Robin and, I didn’t–”
“Bo,” Everil said, rough, and pulled Bo back into his arms. And, “Bo.”
Bo threw his arms around Everil with a quiet, wounded sound. Red and sore hands clutched at those clothes, the fabric loose and giving without tearing. He’d apologize later. It didn’t fucking matter. Bo just needed Everil close.
“Knew you’d come,” Bo said, voice fucking shredded against the curve of Everil’s shoulder. Everil held himself still. Bo shook enough for the both of them, snowmelt on his lips. “Fucking knew you’d come. Told them both. Told them you’d fucking come.”
Everil’s grip tightened further, hand curling around the back of Bo’s head. Long fingers gentle over bloodied hair. Bo hid his face against Everil’s chest, because Everil fucking came for him, found him, and all Bo knew was he wassafe.
“Both?”
Bo nodded a little. Just a little. He didn’t want Everil to pull away yet. “Two.”
“I must deal with this,” Everil said, his voice gone as cold as his hands were warm. “It won’t be pleasant. You may go to Talia if you wish.”
Bo’s grip tightened before he forced his hands open. If Everil needed him to let go, Bo could fucking do that much. Painful, yeah, but he managed, fabric falling from unsteady fingers.
“Fuck that,” Bo said. Could say, because he was alive. “Staying with you. I don’t want to go.”
He could feel it, the way Everil’s tension eased, if only slightly.
“My thanks. I prefer youhere,” Everil murmured.
Bo started to pull away, remembering, as he did, what the unseen fae had said. Claiming to be Everil’s friend.
Bo didn’t have to tell Everil, not when he’d find out himself soon enough. Bo didn’twantto be the one to give him that news. And fucking still, even he knew that not offering warning was a shit thing to do.
Fucking morals.
“Other one said they’re a friend of yours.” Quietly said, but it was enough.
Sadness and understanding stung the back of Bo’s throat, tasting of stagnant water and poisoned streams.
“Suire,” Everil called, voice as much grief as it was anger, bleeding history. Bo’s hopes that she’d been exaggerating went with it. “I call you by your oath. Face me.”
And there she was, the unseen fae. She stepped through the now-limp willow branches with a soft rustle, smaller and slighter than Bo, all silver curls and full cheeks. Pretty, but every fae he’d seen had been, even the dryad in his strange way.
Bo’s shoulders tightened, but he turned, taking a half step to the side to get out of Everil’s way.
“It was for you,” Suire said, tone caught somewhere between beseeching and reprimand. “It’s a human, Everil. You deserve better.”
Suire had a lovely voice. Bo remembered how it’d sounded when she laughed.
“Fuck you,” Bo said, as much vehemence to the sentiment as his throat could manage. “You knew it’d hurt Everil. You don’t hit someone and tell them it’s tohelp.”
“This, Everil?” Suire asked, looking at Bo with utter loathing. Bo glared back. “You’d throw away everything forthis? The last one had pretty manners, at least.”
The last one?
“And how would you know that?” Everil asked, ice water and death.
