Page 54 of Betrothed

“Anything,” he said. “As long as it is with you.”

Fifty Years Later

Fawn’s ankle ached.

She groaned, turning over in the nest. The magic she had found thanks to her Skullstalker husband had done many things: slowed her aging to match his, for one. She should have been stooped and grey, but she was as spry as she was in her twenties. And of course, it had allowed her body to stretch to fit Zax’s in ways no mortal could reasonably accommodate. And lastly, her retractable claws and fangs. But her ankle, which she had sprained so many decades ago before any magic had touched her, still pained her sometimes.

She reached over to Zax. But his side of the nest was empty, with only an indent in the furs and feathers to imply he had been there at all.

Fawn sat up, looking around the treehouse. It was their third: the second had burned down during an unfortunate anniversary dinner incident. But by then, they had been thinking about moving anyhow, so it was a blessing in disguise. This, their third treehouse, had been set up not far from the first. Close enough to see Anderfel mountain in the distance, which meant they could visit two of his brothers anytime they felt like a short trip. And when they didn’t, then they could summon Slate for a portal.

Fawn climbed out of their nest and raised her voice. “Zax? Love, where are you?”

She did not have to wait long. Moments after she called, Zax came crawling through the window, his purple eye glowing attentively in her direction.

“I was fixing the rainwater collectors,” he said. “What do you wish of me?”

Fawn held up her foot. “My ankle hurts.”

Zax dropped to his knees in an instant. Fawn placed her foot in his hand, and he rubbed it with huge, gentle fingers.

Fawn sighed as his touch slowly soothed the ache. She grew her claws and ran them over Zax’s head, scraping around the base of his horns.

Zax growled contentedly. They stood there like that for a minute or so, him massaging her aches, her sending pleasant tingles through his horns. Then she pulled her foot out of his grasp, and he stood.

“Everything is ready,” Zax announced. “You were right to finish the roof last night. I do not want to do that this morning. We can leave whenever you’re ready.”

“Ready,” Fawn repeated, still addled with sleep. She yawned, then spotted the packs in the corner of the treehouse and realized what he meant. Slate had appeared in their treehouse last night, requiring assistance with demons breaking into his void. Of course, they had agreed, and Slate had told them to meet him at Wick’s cottage over the mountains in three days. Or possibly a month. Slate lost track of time so easily nowadays. Either way, Fawn was happy to spend time at that sweet little cottage. The guest room was always open to them, and her sister-in-law, Briar, never failed to make their trip memorable.

“Right,” Fawn said. She looked around, debating whether she could be bothered with breakfast or if they could eat their supplies on the road. “Let me get dressed, and we’ll go.”

Twenty minutes later, they were headed through the autumnal forest.

“What adventures do you think we will get up to this time?” Zax wondered aloud as they walked through the woods.

“As long as we don’t travel through too many dimensions, I’ll be happy,” Fawn said with a shudder. Traveling through one dimension was enough. Throw in a few different voids and, once or twice, even the Hells, not to mention whatever ridiculous pocket dimensions they kept coming up with, and things quickly got so complicated that Fawn would start wondering if she would ever make it back home.

“Whatever it is,” Zax said, “We will be back soon enough. And since I fixed the rainwater stores, we will have ample water for your baths.”

“Good,” Fawn said, eyeing the trees overhead. They were so beautiful in autumn, but it did get cold in that treehouse. Even with the heating charms that Zax had made. She loved her hot morning baths.

Fawn paused to roll her ankle.

Zax stopped to watch her. “Is it hurting again?”

“Only a little,” Fawn replied. She looked around the familiar forest, which she could find her way around blindfolded after so many years of trekking through it. They were near the glow worm cave. They went there for every anniversary, and Fawn led him in a slow dance that never failed to make Fawn want to cry with gratitude. She could never have imagined this life when she was stuck in that tiny ditchwater village, washing her husband’s dirty socks and nodding when he spoke and spreading her legs when he requested it. Every anniversary only made her more glad that Zax had stolen her from that life.

But they were months out from an anniversary, and Fawn wanted more than a dance.

Zax noticed the gleam in her eye. “What?”

“Nothing,” said Fawn innocently. She grew out her claws again, and then her fangs, and smiled at him brightly.

Zax’s tail twitched in anticipation.

“Now?” he asked. He twisted to look in the direction of the cave, which was where so many of these interactions ended.

“We have time,” Fawn said.