Was he angry?
Was it because his people had attacked the queen, or did he actually care about me? Of course, it could be an annoyance that once again he had to tend to me, but he didn’t need to. I was not some child that needed coddling.
Going back to the rack, he decided on a short, wide jar and twisted open the top. “We should probably wash that first before I put this on.”
This was twice now he tended to my wounds, and it filled me with so many questions. Why did he constantly go from being mean to nice? Why did he have to act nice at all? How was I supposed to hate someone who kept tending to my wounds all the time?
These acts of kindness were triggers of torment to my soul. I hated the conflicting emotions that rose in me. “Why are you doing this?” I didn't mean to ask out loud, but it bumbled out anyway.
“Well, it's faster if I take care of it myself. I didn't notice your handmaiden with you.”
“Oh,” I said, not sure how to process that piece of information.
Liora hadn’t followed me through the portal, but surely Kane had other servants capable of tending to me. Wasn’t it normal to have all types of scullery maids around, ready to do the queen’s bidding?
“What are all those?” I asked, pointing to a table full of broken clocks. Everything from a brass pocket watch to the top of an old cuckoo clock. Some of them had been completely dismantled while others looked to be caught somewhere between fixed and still very broken.
“Those?” Kane’s cheeks flushed. It was the first time I saw him embarrassed. He quickly shifted his body to block the table. “It’s nothing.”
“Are you a clockmaker?”
“Of course not,” he huffed, folding his arms and frowning. He twisted the bracelet on his left wrist. One black band on each arm. He was never without them. “Why would a king fiddle with such nonsense?”
“Kings are allowed to have hobbies.”
Right when I was going to pry more, one of the pots on the adjacent table moved. “Uhh… Kane?”
The top of the flowery plant wiggled.
Kane turned around just as tiny rootlike fingers gripped the edge of the clay pot. “Did we wake you?”
The creature poked its head out of the dirt. It was smaller than the pixies but had similar wide eyes and a tiny nose. Its skin resembled the dirt it rested in and when Kane picked it up, the creature climbed around his hand and up his arm. Its limbs were as thin as the roots in the pot he slept in.
“This is Toki. He’s shy but harmless.” Kane turned toward me.
Toki hid behind Kane’s hair, which rested along his shoulders. The leafy portion of the creature’s head reminded me of the feathered top hats some ladies would wear to tea.
“Hi, there. What is he?”
“A mandrake brownie. I found him when he was young, alone, and barely alive. He likes the workshop.”
“What about the raptors?”
With a smile, Kane scratched under Toki’s chin. “Not enough meat on him for them.”
“He’s incredible.” I waved at the creature who peered at me with olive eyes and no pointy teeth. “Where did you find him?”
The little creature nuzzled Kane’s finger. “There was a fae village near the borderlands. A beautiful woodland that was decimated by darkthings. I’d gone to search for survivors and destroy any remaining monsters. I found this little one hiding out in a tree stump. I wouldn’t have noticed him if I hadn’t stopped to rest.”
Using my magic, I reached out to the pot it had been sleeping in and searched the dirt for any seeds. One lone daisy lay dormant. Slowly, I called the flower awake.
Toki gazed over at the pot, climbing across Kane to his other shoulder.
A green bud rose from the dirt and Toki skittered back to his pot, staring at it, the top too high for him to reach.
The bud blossomed and with surprising agility, Toki jumped onto the top, scrambling back to his home. He touched the stem of the flower, stroking it with care.
Satisfied, I sat back.
