Vale did not bother replying. Largely because he had no interest in what was being said, also he did not know what a scholar was.
Ivy lifted her head. There was a gold mark on his robes where her soft cheek had been resting.
“If you eat me,” she said, her voice very small, “could you do it fast?”
“I will not eat you,” Vale said, annoyed. “I told you, I amverybadly in need of an assistant.”
“What if I’m bad at it?” Ivy croaked, her scent jumbled with a confusing blend of desire and mourning. “The palace gardeners always said I was getting in their way. And once I mistook a bad mushroom for a good one, and I made the whole Circle sick for weeks.”
“I will not eat you until you have proven yourself utterly useless,” Vale assured her. “And with training, you will not be. Are you satisfied?”
He looked down at her, expecting to see her relax. But if anything, she was only more upset.
“You seem nice,” she whispered. Tears glistened in the corners of her eyes.
Vale did not understand her. If she was worried about being eaten, why should he upset her by beingnice?
The last bone-bush splintered out of his way. Vale stepped into a familiar clearing, his tail unfurling in relief as he saw his nest stacked in the middle.
It had a base of bones, naturally. Then a cover of vines, for comfort. Finally, a layer of fur stripped from the nightbeasts. The fine sheen of cobwebs was new, and they vanished with a sweep of his robe.
Ivy sat up, wiping pollen from her eyelids. Her circlet braid had fallen from her head, her crimson crown turned into a limp line over her shoulder.
“Where are we?”
“My nest,” Vale explained. He lowered her into it, surprised by how small she looked inside it. Small andsoft, her plump body was an oddly satisfying addition to the lush fur lining his nest.
“You will stay here until the heatbloom is out of your blood,” Vale continued.
“But,” Ivy started, pushing herself up on trembling elbows. “I’m meant to be of use.”
Golden pollen pooled between her breasts. Vale’s gaze dropped to it, unable to stop himself.
Ivy gasped, her red cheeks flushing even further. Vale could smell the heat between her legs, sweet and tantalizing.
Vale looked away, ignoring the strange stirring in his stomach. Hunger, of course. He wanted to sink his fangs into her soft thigh. But he also wanted to pry her legs open and taste her in a way that had nothing to do with how long it had been since his last meal.
He frowned, examining the pollen on his robes. Usually, all filth slid off him effortlessly. Was the heatbloom affecting him, too? Impossible. He had touched this pollen a hundred times over the years. It had never done anything to him before. He did not feel feverish, just… surprisingly interested in the mortal lying in his nest.
“Um,” Ivy squeaked, pulling at her bloodstained dress. “Wh-what did you say this pollen did again?”
“I did not,” Vale said. He concentrated, willing the pollen off his robes. Most of it tumbled off, but faint stains remained.
He glared at his surroundings resentfully. Bone-bushes and trees would bend backwards to allow him to pass, but they would not clean his robes? What was happening to his void?
For the first time in a long time, the void answered. At least, it tried to. Bony branches coiled up his leg, throbbing in alarm.
“Nowyou speak with me,” Vale muttered.
“The plant spoke to you?” Ivy said weakly. “What did it say?”
“The plant said nothing,” Vale corrected. “The void is attempting to commune.”
The bony branches were retreating, a path clearing back where he had come from. Showing him where to go, yet again.
“Stay here,” Vale told Ivy.
Ivy struggled to her feet. “What? No! I’ll come.”
