He stumbled out of the pool. He did not check to see if anyone had followed; the void was not so weak as to allow someone in without its permission.
The forest parted to let Vale through. Leaves swayed toward Ivy as he ran, holding her steady.
He reached the nest and placed her inside. Then he turned to the tree that was drooping over him, offering something.
“Thank you,” Vale said hoarsely as it dropped the soothepine into his palm. He crammed the leaves into his mouth, chewing hard. Then he took the arrow in Ivy’s chest and braced himself.
It did not take much. Just a small yank, and the arrow slid from Ivy’s chest with a slickpop. Ivy’s reaction, however, was awful. Her eyes snapped open, her back bowing as she sobbed in agony.
Vale threw the bloody, malblossom-wrapped arrow into the forest, ignoring the burns it scored into his fingers. Then he spat into her wound. The green leaf-spit dripped into the arrow hole, burrowing through the blood and glowing as it slowly healed her wound.
Ivy whimpered. Vale stroked her hair, a concerned rumble in his throat.
“You will heal,” he assured her. “We are here. All will be well.”
Those leaf-vines from before—ivy, she had called it, her namesake from the mortal realm—snaked into the nest and curled around her limbs. Strands threaded gently through her hair, stroking along with Vale.
“We are here,” Vale repeated quietly.
Ivy’s eyelids fluttered. Her writhing stilled, the fight leaving her. But before Vale could panic that he was too late, Ivy’s injury glowed brighter.
It was not the soothepine. Notjustthe soothpine, anyhow. That much was clear as the glow spread to her eyes, shining between her eyelashes.
I know that green, Vale thought. It was not the green of Ivy’s own eyes. It was the green ofhis. The green of the wilderness void.
Ivy’s mouth opened. Green light poured from it. Her skin glowed, green light radiating through her until her whole body shone.
Vale stared, spellbound. He had seen magic every day of his long existence. But he had notfeltit like this, beautiful and blessed, for millennia.
Suddenly, Ivy sagged. Her eyes drooped shut, and her body went limp.
Vale climbed into the nest with her and pulled her into his lap. He did not understand what had just happened. But he knew one thing for certain:
Ivy was not going anywhere.
Twelve
Ivy was having an incredible dream.
She was lying in Vale’s nest, cocooned in his arms. Plants swarmed over her, sending pulses of affection and safety through her skin. Her chest throbbed with discomfort. But, as it was with dreams, there was no true pain.
Ivy hummed, nuzzling into Vale’s robes. She had never felt so held as she did in Vale’s big arms. Why couldn’t all her dreams be so sweet?
“You are awake,” Vale said suddenly. “How do you feel?”
Ivy blinked, suddenly much more alert.
It wasn’t a dream. She really was lying with Vale in his nest, plants swarming all around it. She sat up gingerly. As soon as she moved, the plants started to ripple. Petals fluttered, grass waved, vines bobbed and curled. For a moment, Ivy could feel their joy and relief and deep weariness. Then it faded, and Ivy was left reeling with her fuzzy memories.
Ivy looked up at Vale, stricken. “Did… did we go back to the mortal realm?”
Vale nodded. “Do you not remember?”
Ivy didn’t answer. The memories were flooding back now, leaving her horrified: Vale carrying her forcefully back to the mortal realm; her uncle shooting her in the chest; her begging Vale not to kill her uncle, even after—ohgods.
Ivy covered her face with her hands. All those people, dead. She could remember their crumpled bodies now, lying where Vale had killed them.
Vale nosed at her hair. “What is it? You do not smell like pain.”
