Unbidden, the sprites join me in the forest. Their bodies seem toform from nothing when they step out of the tall bushes covered in wild spring blooms. Though a weariness clings beneath their eyes, the sisters exude a childlike playfulness as they follow me through the trees, disappearing and reappearing in and out of the lush foliage around us. If I’d had any hesitation about what might be lingering in the forest after my encounter during the boar hunt, the sisters’ company puts it all far from my mind.
It’s after dark when I slip from the forest. While my thoughts in the woods had been taken up by the reconstruction of the world as I knew it, only one thing takes up space in my mind when the lights of the palace come into view. The general will have been told of my departure, and I have little doubt he was told the moment I reentered the grounds earlier this evening.
I take my time, making my way across the lawns, learning the guards’ repetitious rounds, and slipping past them with ease. A prideful glee takes over when I pass the last of the patrols unseen. Keeping to the shadows, I creep among the wild, blooming foliage until I’m under my window.
It’s still cracked, and with a small leap, I snag hold of the marble lip on the first try, avoiding the male for one more day.
“The front door is open, Shivaria.” I wince at the general’s cool tone and after dangling for a moment, let myself fall to my feet begrudgingly. “You might try using it sometime.”
I take a moment to school my features before turning to face him, his brow pinching as he observes me.
“I suppose if you’ve gone through this much effort to avoid me, I don’t need to ask for your answer.”
My back stiffens, but I can appreciate that he’s being direct. Best to get it over with.
“I’m flattered by your offer,” I say politely.
“That’s a lie,” he says flatly, and I bristle at the accusation despite the fact that he’s right. I’m not flattered.
“I’ve considered it, and I feel very strongly that either one or both of us would regret it,” I say.
“You’re basing your decision off one of many possible outcomes?” he says, clearly annoyed by my reply.
“Even the best outcome between a mortal and a feyn ends in regret,General. I haven’t forgotten what I am.”
He looks me over speculatively before asking, “And if you weren’t worried about your mortality, what would you say then?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“It matters,” he says, taking a step toward me. “To me, it matters.”
“Then you should know, it wouldn’t change anything,” I say firmly, stepping back from his advance.
My stomach twists when he flinches like I’ve struck him, but I tell myself it’s for the best.
“You mean that,” he says, his brow drawing down.
I exhale a deep breath and nod in confirmation. His jaw ticks before he does his best to soften the brooding expression creasing his brow.
“I will honor your decision, and nothing of your time here will change on my account.”
“Thank you,” I say, dipping my head and turning toward the palace entrance.
He doesn’t chase after me, and I tell myself that it’s a good thing, but when I drink down the last of Kishek’s tea and lay down to sleep, the room feels emptier than it ever has before. I expected more of a fight from the male, but I’m glad he didn’t press me for a reason or try to persuade me. I think.
As it seems to be most every night since I’ve been at the palace, I toss and turn, sure I will be unable to find sleep when abruptly I’m taken by the void.
It’s still early when I wake the next morning, a floral steam drifting in from the bath as if the sprites knew I would rise with the dawn. Still no sign of my demon. It should be a relief, but I’m plagued with the question of why my darkness has begun to abate. I think I preferred it when it was predictable, even if that meant enduring my demon every day.
There is a mood among the sprites this morning. They giggle inbreathy whispers, the entire conversation passing over my ears in waves. After struggling for so long learning to hear them, only to find that they could simply choose not to be heard had been frustrating to say the least.
“I’m fairly certain I’ve already told you once before that it’s rude to exclude present company from a conversation,” I scold them, raising a brow at Tig.
She shrugs, resuming said conversation with her sister, their voices no clearer to me.
Cheeky.
Tig braids a thin golden cord into my hair, banding it around the top of my head, the remaining loose curls tumble down my back. It’s a curious choice. The fea have shown an obvious preference for adorning me with flowers but never before gold. She plucks a handful of the last tiny, sweet smelling pink blooms from her sister’s branches and weaves them into the plait. I wonder if the dark buds just beginning to sprout on Tig are the herb she offered to grow for me but suspect that if they are she will let me know when they are ready. It can’t be soon enough.
