“Here, watch.” He pressed a ball flat beneath his hand, dropped several pieces of cheese into the center, then folded the edges in to make a small, round-ish envelope. I copied him and we worked in silence until we had two dozen flatbreads filled with cheese.
“Outside, on the creek side of the tree,” Devil said, “is a patch of wild thyme.”
I nodded, understanding what he wanted without further explanation. We had made similar dishes at Locksley, but our flatbreads were only meant for dipping in soups or sauces and never contained cheese. My stomach rumbled eagerly as I collected the thyme and came back to find Devil sitting on the hearth again.
Our flour battle had distracted us from getting the fire going, and I paused to watch as he rubbed his hands together, then held them flat in front of him. When he blew across his palms, a cloud of flour formed, but so did a real, living flame, which jumped from his skin into the embers. I must have made some sort of noise,because he looked back at me and smiled, then snapped his fingers. Another flame appeared at the spot where his thumb and forefinger met, burning like a candle in midair.
“What sort of magyk is that?” I breathed, kneeling beside him. When I held my fingers over the flame, it turned bright blue and burned higher, nearly singeing me until he put it out.
“Lightweaving,” he answered. “I told you, we are creatures of fire and air too. But the light is…softer, easier to command…”
“It has better manners?” I laughed, and he nodded. His magyk flames did the trick, and soon we had a fire hot enough to cook on. While I stripped the thyme stalks and crushed the leaves with a mortar and pestle, Devil took a small basket and left the den. He returned shortly with an absolute mess of berries, some of which I didn’t even recognize, his own fingers stained red with juice.
“Thyme on this half,” he said, indicating a dozen of the flatbreads we’d constructed. “This half will get berries.”
We worked efficiently side-by-side, both still covered in flour, until all the breads had either ground thyme or mashed berries pressed into their tops. When he turned to pour oil into the cooking pan, I noted that our silence felt strangely comfortable. This realization once again opened up a small pit in my stomach, and I had to have answers.
I took two plates from the shelf and washed them, then stacked the uncooked breads on one and settled myself on the hearth beside him. Without a word, he took the first disc of dough, placing it into a pool of oil in the pan and setting two more beside it. We watched them cook for a few minutes before I took a deep breath and spoke.
“What did you mean by it, Devil? Last night, when you said that you were—”
“Created for you?” He finished my sentence with a wry smile, and I blinked in surprise. “I was beginning to think you’d never ask.”
“Well, Ihavehad quite a few important things come up since then,” I mumbled. He prodded at the frying breads with a long fork, checking the bottoms and flipping them over. Then, he leaned against the side of the fireplace with a faraway look in his eyes.
“When Lyric first learned she was with child, she came to the Arden first, of course,” he sighed. “She wanted to share the happy news with her parents and friends. But all it did was…further agitate an already tense situation. Titania still blamed Oberon for allowing her to leave in the first place, the war was becoming worse with each passing day, and Lyric’s strength was…fading. It was clear to everyone, so I’m told, that her life was tied to the Arden’s magyk. Herparents begged, and she agreed to come back once every fortnight during her pregnancy and stay two nights, to let the Arden restore her. At that time, Titania was sending Prim and her four sisters, the faeries you saw attending her at the revelry, to watch over Lyric while she was away, but that was becoming dangerous. Prim cannot change her form, cannot disguise herself, and she can only pass as a bird until you look closely. Her sisters are all the same.”
“Oberon wanted a morehumanservant…” I guessed.
Devil nodded. “Almost as soon as Lyric told them her news, he began collecting—picking up pieces of the creatures he thought would be useful. As Antenor no doubt told you, Oberon put them into a snakeskin, hung from a rowan branch. He tried using his own magyk to form them into…something human-like.”
“But instead, he got you,” I teased. Devil grinned, then pulled the first of the flatbreads off the pan, dropping them carefully onto the empty plate between us and replacing them with three more.
“Not at first,” he said slowly. “At first, nothing worked. Not any kind of magyk, and not prayer to the Huntress, who grants life. He had nearly given up…when Lyric came to visit again. By that time, her pregnancy had reached the quickening, when mothers can feel a child move inside them. She came into Oberon’s sacred grove, where I was hanging in my…cocoon, and something happened. A hundred fireflies appeared and attached themselves to the snakeskin, causing it to fall from its branch. Not real insects, but the sparks—the gift of Lightweaving itself…found me, and knit me together.”
“From the Huntress?” I breathed.
“I suppose so,” he said with a shrug. “Lightweaving is what runs through my veins in place of blood, and the force that sustains me in place of a heart. But…it is not magyk alone that was responsible for my creation. The moment Lyric set foot in the grove, the moment you and I were close to one another, May,youmoved too. You leapt inside her, stronger than she’d ever felt before, she said. And you did not stop until I’d been…born.”
Reeling, I pressed a hand to my forehead and stood up, wandering away to lean against the table, but Devil did not move from his post beside the fire.
“I don’t understand,” I muttered. “You said that Oberon made you to watch over my mother and I, but if you were just a babe…”
He shook his head with a small smile. “I was already a boy when I was created,” he said. “Small, rather ungainly, but Oberon needed a ready-made servant. He gave me only the knowledge I might need to fulfill my…purpose. Everything else, I was forced to learn on my own.”
“Your purpose…” I wiped a hand over my face and startled when I looked up again. He was standing in front of me now, searching my face with his disconcerting eyes. I could hardly smell anything except flour, but the warm, almost-metallic tang of his magyk washed over me, along with the softer scent of berries and thyme.
“Your voice is the first memory I have, May. Do not ask me how, but…I know it was you…” He shifted closer and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “All these years, my purpose has only ever beenyou.”
“To spy on me and report everything back to Oberon,” I said with a frown.
“Not everything, no. I kept your secrets.” His fingers ran along my cheek, then brushed some flour from the tip of my nose. “You have always held my highest loyalty.”
“But…why? I still don’t understand…how I was the one who…how you and I…” I swallowed hard and stared down at my boots.
“Perhaps the Huntress wanted you to have a guardian,” he said softly. “Or perhaps…we simply knew that we would need one another.” He moved closer again, our legs pressing together as his wings rustled softly and he lifted my chin. I met his eyes and the feeling was so intense, my knees went weak. I had no idea what to call it, but I gripped the edge of the table behind me for stability. His other hand rose too, thumbs moving slowly over my jawline as his lips parted. He took a breath, like he meant to speak, but nothing came out.
I put a hand on his chest and murmured, “Our breakfast is about to burn.” My gentle smile seemed to break him from his reverie. To my relief, he returned it, then lifted my hand and kissed the back, lingering just a second longer than was proper.
