Vale insisted it was because he needed variety. Ivy insisted it was because he longed for someone to share himself with. Privately, Vale believed her theory much more than his own.
And yet, his life was much more different with Ivy at his side. He no longer spent all his time in his void, and he spoke to many more beings than he used to, even before the light-motes left.
“Cxt’va,” Vale said as the light-mote drifted closer. “What news?”
Cxt’va trilled.
Vale sighed. “Again? I will handle this. After I finish this braid.”
“He will not,” Ivy told the light-mote. She turned, taking care not to pull her hair from Vale’s grip. “Cxt’va, thank you for coming to us. But I’m sure Geraldine can help you lift that log out of the way.”
Cxt’va trilled again, rotating worriedly.
“She isabsolutelystrong enough,” Ivy declared. “Have youseenher arms since she returned? She had been cutting wood all winter! She could lift Vale if she wanted!”
Cxt’va spun an anxious circle. Then it made a decisive hum and flitted out of the tent, off to find one of their several mortal assistants.
Ivy turned back and met Vale’s glowing eyes in their reflection. “Was it always that anxious?”
“Always,” Vale said, not unkindly. He had not remembered how fond he was of his annoying brood of light-motes until they rushed back into his life.
He tied the braid off. Ivy’s long crimson hair hung in a thick braid to her waist. She made to stand up, but Vale stopped her.
“Not yet,” he told her.
He took the last handful he’d left loose and braided it quickly. Then he tied it around her head, pinning it into place with a bone-pin the void had gifted her two decades ago: one of its many wedding gifts.
Ivy laughed, touching her makeshift crown. She rarely wore her hair like this since it grew too long for all of it to fit on her head.
“What is this for?” she asked. “Is it a special occasion?”
“Does it need to be a special occasion to give my queen her crown?” Vale replied. He kissed her hair, pushing one last strand of crimson hair into place as he grew his claws back out.
Ivy’s gaze caught on his claws. Her eyes were hungry, and Vale’s tail flicked in anticipation.
Ivy stepped toward the nest in the center of the tent. But she did not climb into it yet.
“How are the rib-thickets?” she asked.
“They are content.”
Ivy nodded, running her fingers over the fur lining the nest. “And the root-deer?”
“The herd is thriving,” Vale said. He walked behind her, catching her in his arms. “The void is well. There is nothing that must be done.”
Ivy shifted happily in his grip. When Vale ran a hand down her braid, she leaned into his touch. But she did not turn in his arms.
“We need to find another assistant,” she pointed out.
“We also need to see the new crop of shadow trees in my brother’s void,” Vale said. “It is not urgent. Why do you tease me so?”
“Because it’s fun,” Ivy said sweetly.
She turned in his arms, finally. Vale placed a claw under her soft chin and let the love into his expression. She had not delayed him because she found itfun, as she claimed. At least, not entirely. She had done it because she wanted to feel desired.
Vale stroked her cheeks, pressing his claws gently against her plush skin. “My strange gift. How glad I am that you were given to me.”
“Thank you for keeping me,” she replied, as she always did.
