I let the potion simmer until it foams and fizzes, then I pinch the troll hair and drop it into the bubbling mixture. Instantly the surface seethes, shifting from clear to deep violet, then to a red so dark it’s almost black. Using a large ladle, I scoop the finished potion into an amber bottle and hold it up to the light.
“I’ll have to wait twenty-four hours before I can test it,” I tell Eugene, who has been silently watching me for the better part of an hour, “but I think I got it right this time. I have a good feeling.”
The squirrel titters in agreement, as if he can really understand what I’m saying. I throw him an affectionate smile.
“It was definitely worth the risk to go find that troll den,” I add. “No matter what Fox thought.”
Eugene looks at me with wide, unblinking eyes.
“Don’t look at me like that.” I frown. “I would have been completely fine on my own.”
The squirrel makes a strange, angry hissing sound, as if he’s been confronted by a real fox. He swishes his tail in agitation, as if to say: “You could have died!”
I glower. “I wasn’t going to die. My wings weren’t even out! Clearly, I never felt like I was in mortal peril.”
Eugene cocks his furry head at me and blinks his wide onyx eyes. I scowl. “I feel like you’re being way too judgmental about this. Fox’s wings weren’t out either, so he must not have been very worried about the troll.”
I frown, considering that.
All Fae have wings, but we don’t often show them. Male Fae tend to flash their wings around more than females, but even so, there’s really only two times it would be normal to see them: when fearing for your life or around your soul-bonded mate. Some men show their wings every time they fight, regardless of how much danger they’re really in, but Fox evidently isn’t one of those men.
“Maybe he has better control over his wings than most males because he’s a soldier,” I muse. “And in fairness, he finished the fight so fast I didn’t really have time to think about if I might die…if I’d been alone…” I trail off, glancing back at Eugene once more and let out a huff of breath. “Alright, fine. MaybeI got lucky, but we’ll never know, will we? There’s no point dwelling on it.”
Eugene huffs a breath through his nose and shows me his tail. I grimace. He can be so negative sometimes.
“Well, what would you suggest I do?” I ask tersely. “It wasn’t as if I was completely unprepared. I brought my paralytic potions and my sword.”
I think back to Fox’s horrified expression when I said I didn’t really know how to use a sword. I glance over at the short swordwhich I dropped unceremoniously on the floor along with my belt and cloak, and an idea dawns on me.
“There’s really only one solution,” I tell Eugene. “I’ll have to learn to fight—oh, don’t look so skeptical, you don’t even know what I’m saying.”
Eugene chatters at me, swishing his tail rapidly back and forth.
“I’m choosing to take that as a sign you’re excited for me,” I tell him pointedly. “If I’m ever going to leave Storia, I need to learn to protect myself. How hard can it be?”
The following morning, I pull gown after gown from my wardrobe, each one trailing yards of fabric across the floor.
“Why can’t I find a single pair of trousers in here?” I lament to Eugene. “I’m sure I have a pair somewhere…don’t I?”
The squirrel ignores me, clearly pouting because I’m going to set him free today. I’m not happy about it either. Without him here, it will be all too obvious that I’m really just talking to myself.
I pull yet another long dress out of my wardrobe, this one a periwinkle blue with silver embroidery. The long train catches on my toe and nearly sends me sprawling. I curse, kicking it away. It would be impossible to swing a sword in any of these.
Grabbing a pair of silver scissors off my workbench, I bunch the periwinkle skirt in my fist, and hesitate for just a moment before the blades bite through. When I try it on, the rough edge falls just above my knees, and when I twirl experimentally, nothing tangles around my legs.Perfect.
Well, notperfect, but more than good enough.
I cross the room to Eugene’s cage and let him out. He titters and immediately leaps onto my shoulder.
“Time to go back to the forest,” I tell him sadly. “You’ll like it, I promise.” Eugene chitters again angrily, and I sigh. “You can’t stay here forever. What if another animal gets hurt and needs the cage? Anyway, I’m sure you have family who miss you.”
The squirrel digs his tiny claws into my skin as I leave the tower and descend the many stairs to reach the front entrance hall of the manor house. Outside, morning dew dampens my boots as I cross the sprawling rose garden that takes up nearly half the estate grounds. At the edge of the woods, I lift Eugene gently and set him on a low branch. He freezes there, whiskers and tail twitching.
“Go on,” I whisper, stepping away. “Don’t look at me, I don’t want to cry.”
Tears well in my eyes anyway, but I blink them away and turn to leave. When I glance back, he’s still there, watching me. My heart squeezes painfully, but I ignore it and don’t look back again as I walk back toward the manor and shoulder open the back door to the kitchen.
Four people are sitting around the long wooden dining table in complete silence. Daemon and Alix, the new king and queen, sit close together sharing sections of a pastry. Across from them, Daemon’s cousin, Odessa, is ignoring her own breakfast and shooting angry looks across the table at Daemon’s best friend, Kastian, from behind the curtain of her red-blonde hair. Kas is looking pointedly anywhere but at Dessa, as if he’s unaware she exists. Those two are always at each other’s throats.
