Page 11 of A Drop of Venom

To my left, my bed of prized flame azollas, which were among the plants I’d brought from Izaelon that required the most tending because they struggled to thrive here in the different soil and dry inland air, swelled from thin stalks into healthy thick stems before my disbelieving eyes.

A branch of the apple tree above her head bent down and gently deposited a ripe red fruit into her hand.

When I met Hazel’s gaze, her eyes shimmered as if dusted with flakes of gold.

If I’d had knees, I would have fallen to them in awe. Instead, I sank down on my coils like a supplicant before a divine being.

“I am blessed by the Goddess,” my shelshi said as a crimson rambler bloom bigger than her hand bent to caress her shoulder. The vine around her other arm had budded and burst into bloom as well. “This is my magic, Terolon. All my life I’ve been beaten for it, and threatened, and cursed at, and forced to hide my gifts. My grandmother had it too, but she was always afraid she would be discovered and worked in secret. My mother was grateful she didn’t get the gift—or curse, as she called it. And she was very angry that I did.”

She took a bite of her apple and admired the rambler blooms on her arm. “One of my earliest memories is being slapped for making our neighbor’s roses healthy after they began to die of blight. I think I was four years old. I didn’t understand what I’d done wrong, but I understood pain. Pain, I know very well.”

Rage burned inside me, hot as the lava that flowed near the coast of my homeland. Hearing her speak of her mother as if she were dead—and the need to stay and listen to my mate speak her truth—were the only things preventing from hunting down this person who’d harmed such a wondrous and goddess-blessed female.

“When you found me, you must have seen the manacle on my wrist,” Hazel said.

“Yes.” I hissed. “It was a foul thing. I broke it and freed you. Later, I went back and buried it there in the ravine.”

“Its purpose is to suppress the magic of witches. The men who tried to hurt me put it on me when I called upon the forest for help and protection. They planned to violate me—all of them—and cut off my head. Or so they said.” She smiled, but the expression held no humor. “I’m quite sure they lied and would have made a spectacle of my death. That’s the way in this land of ignorance and superstition. Instead, the trees gave me a weapon and I used it to free myself.”

I thought of the blood on her dress and silently said a prayer of thanks to the forest.

“As I lay at the bottom of that ravine, I felt peace in the arms of the Goddess’s creation,” Hazel continued. “I hated the manacle on my wrist, but I felt great comfort thinking my body would return to the earth.”

“And now that you’ve survived instead?” I asked, my hearts pounding in my chest.

“Now, the Goddess has granted me clarity.” Her fiery gaze stirred my sartras once more. “I won’t be condemned for my gift anymore. I won’t be hurt for it and I won’t be shamed. So if my magic displeases you, or angers you, or stokes fear or disgust in your hearts, I’ll go away now and you won’t need to ever think of me again.”

Slowly, I approached my shelshi. The warmth of her magic was all around me now, infusing the plants and the soil and even sweetening the breeze, or so I fancied. Perhaps that was just all the blooms that had opened to bask in the sunlight.

For myself, I felt as if I no longer needed to bask in the sun. If she would have me, Hazel would be my warmth, and I’d do all in my power to be everything she needed in return.

“I believe you are the most magnificent, the most beautiful, and the most wondrous female in all of the goddesses’ creation,” I said. “Your magic astounds me.”

She stared at me, her expression equal parts hopeful and disbelieving.

“This garden and everything in it is yours to do with as you please, as are my caves.” I spread my hands wide to indicate the entirety of my refuge. “I would be honored for you to practice your craft here in safety, and to protect you whenever you should need or want to go into the forest.” My chest heated and the tip of my tail vibrated with my agitation. “Anyone who attempts to raise a hand against you or speak a single word of condemnation will suffer all my wrath, my shelshi. For you are Goddess-born, you are my light, and you are divine.”

“I…” She took a deep breath and seemed to sag just a little—but in relief rather than grief or resignation. “Thank you, Terolon. No one has ever offered to protect me. From anything,” she added very softly. I didn’t think she intended for me to hear it. “But what makes this garden safe?”

“A long time ago, a good friend of mine, a wizard, placed wards on these walls.” I gestured around us. “No one can find it, or you, unless you venture beyond them. Even you wouldn’t be able to see the garden once you step through the doorway unless you were with me. I’ll have Stosior grant you full access as soon as he can visit us.”

Very gently, Hazel disentangled herself from the crimson ramblers, who released her from their embrace with a sigh. She rose a bit stiffly from the ground, and immediately I was thinking of adding cushions and benches to the garden—as many as she wished to have.

On bare feet, she padded to me, her gaze still locked on mine. I bent and reached for her. “Come, my shelshi,” I said.

She took my hand, put one tiny bare foot on my lowest coil, and steadied herself with my grip as she stepped up onto my body. I couldn’t imagine ever becoming used to how small and light she was, while simultaneously being the very center of all that was good and right and meaningful in my world.

“Closer,” she said with a smile, her face tilted up toward mine.

Carefully so I didn’t topple her, I adjusted my coils and sank lower until we were face to face. Up close, her blue eyes shone with those little gold flecks that must signify her magic. The sheer beauty of them nearly stopped my hearts.

She freed her hands and reached for me, then hesitated. “May I?”

“Of course,” I said, in a tone that meant Goddess, yes—whatever you wish, please do.

She explored my face with her fingers and palms, tracing the row of short, protective horns on my brow, the planes of my face, the shape of my eyes, the flatness of my nose, my very human-like mouth.

When her fingertips ghosted over my lips, I kissed them. Her little intake of breath made my sartras leak and nearly free themselves from my body. I was grateful for the coil pressed against my slit.