A furrow of worry, or maybe doubt, on a lovely brow, just begging to be kissed away.
Goddess, what’s wrong with me?
Is this what it is to have a mate? This… this… longing?
This agony?
Because that’s the only word for it, the churn of wanting and regret, of worry and irritation, of the soul-deep need to follow and find and make sure she’s safe.
I don’t even know her name.
Lighting a lamp near the bed, I sit heavily on the edge of the mattress, wings drooped behind me. The lamplight illuminates the sorry state of the place—the threadbare rugs and dust in the corners, the sparse, worn furniture and the loneliness which permeates every inch of the single-room dwelling.
Irrationally, I find myself trying to see it throughhereyes.
What would she think of this place? Or, maybe more apt, what would she think of having a mate who lived in it? What does she know of demonkind, what does she expect? One of her kind mated and married the king of the entire realm, and I can’t imagine I’d be much of a prize in comparison.
Dangerous paths to wander down, even in my mind.
There’s no reason to expect she’ll ever see this place, no reason to believe she’d ever want to.
There’s no reason even to think she’ll want to see me again, that I’ll ever find her, that…
With a muttered curse, I lay back on the bed, heedless of my wings or the awkward press of them beneath me. I shake my head, though whether it’s to chase away the hounding thoughts or simply in disgust of what a wreck one single evening has made of my mind, I don’t know.
Whatever the case, it doesn’t work.
My thoughts race, and my heart grows heavier with each passing moment.
And yet, even at the bottom of that endless well of despair, a light.
A memory from earlier tonight won’t leave me alone. It tugs at the corner of my mind—a warning and a hope all rolled into one.
My witch, listening so intently to my conversation with Pytri.
She eavesdropped long enough to hear about the fae queen’s bounty, to learn the details about when and where the gathering will be taking place.
She was interested.
Perhaps interested enough to seek the bounty for herself.
The thought of my mate in Faerie puts a heavy leaden weight into the bottom of my gut.
How durable are these humans? How canny? What kind of magick does my mate possess and will it do anything to protect her there?
Fae are cruel, fickle beings, and they love tormenting the weak.
Not that my mate seems very weak, but in particular, fae have a fondness for toying with humans, for capturing and keeping them like playthings.
If I’d had any lingering reservations about going to Faerie and the fae queen’s court, they’ve all evaporated. If there’s even the slightest chance my witch will be there, I have to go.
Instinct stirs in my chest, and I can’t make any kind of sense of it.
Dread, that my mate will enter that cursed realm.
Hope, that I might see her there.
A chance.
