Chapter 23
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE
We found shelter a few hours from dusk, an old mill with a broken wheel which lay on its side in an over-grown stream. Once again, my diary had proved itself a useful ally, and I couldn’t help the smug grin that found me as I pointed out the shelter we were in such desperate need of to Hendrix.
The squat tower which the wheel had once been bolted to had partially collapsed. Piled rubble now left an opening which made that portion of the building untenable for shelter, but the grain store was sturdier.
“Human built,” Hendrix grumbled, taking the lead as he stalked towards the dilapidated building.
“Sorry my people aren’t offered the Art of preservation the way some of yours are,” I muttered, my boots sloshing through deep puddles, more mud caking to their sides.
I was cold, wet and miserable. The Bear may have created a passage through the storm for us to traverse but water still dripped from every tree, every vine, every bramble and the forest floor was awash with what could arguably be named a shallow lake.
“The Fae are the blessed favourites of the spirits,” he replied, earning a sneer of contempt from me.
“The Fae are soft and pampered by the lives of privilege the spirits offered you. You know nothing of hard labour and perseverance.”
“Ah, how prettily you mutter your jealous words,” he taunted. “I might feel inclined to pity you, did I not know your people to be both tenacious and vicious enough to thrive despite your… misfortunes.”
Hendrix began to push the old, wooden door which blocked the entrance to the grain store, and I bit my tongue to halt the wandering of my fingers towards my slingshot. One sharp clip to his ear would remind him of just how vicious humans could be…
The door groaned and creaked, then finally buckled beneath his battering-ram of a body, swinging wide to knock against the inner wall. A cloud of dust departed the building and engulfed him, drawing a snort of amusement from me while he cursed.
“Oh dear, your pretty hair seems to have turned beige,” I told him while he swiped the layer of dust from his face and turned a half-assed glare my way.
“The grain has spoiled. This place stinks worse than a human brothel.”
“You must have frequented the wrong ones,” I replied dismissively, brushing past him as I ventured into the grain store to take a look at our new shelter. “The brothel in my town only ever smelled of sweetness and sin.”
Hendrix narrowed his eyes at me. “And how might you know that?”
“Same way as you do, I suppose.”
I squinted in the dim light, sighing at what I found.
The store had been filled to the brim when the forest had seen fit to snatch it.
Sacks of grain were piled fifteen high from floor to rafter around every wall.
It was a damn shame so much food had been lost and left to waste this way.
Only a narrow space remained free in the centre of the store, hardly large enough to accommodate one of us throughout the night, let alone two.
“Can you lift some of those out of here?” I asked, glancing back at Hendrix whose long hair was still coated in a layer of dust and whose scowl could have cut a lesser woman to ribbons.
“Do I look like a pack mule?”
I tilted my head, considering him. “Your nose is a little too long to be a mule’s but you do have that vacant kind of look in your eyes that they get at the end of a hard day’s work, so I’d say you’ll pass for one.”
Hendrix barked a laugh, surprising me once more. He was so mercurial it was impossible to know whether he might turn to rage or mirth at any given moment – though I had to admit I found the latter preferable, even if it was more disconcerting.
He stepped around me, his arm brushing mine, my skin prickling at the contact. He was so big he took up altogether too much space, not just physically, but his aura seemed to expand to fill every inch surrounding me until I felt as though I was left with no choice but to breathe him in.
“What happened back there?” Hendrix asked as he hauled three huge bags of grain from the stack as if they weighed nothing and hurled them outside.
Mud splattered up in all directions and I leapt back, knocking into him in the process and causing him to drop his hand to the base of my spine to steady me.
“Back where?” I asked, glancing up into his green eyes before taking a measured step away from both him and the place he’d chosen to dump the bags of grain.
“The castle. With the Dragon. You summoned it but then it… well it lost its shit, didn’t it?”
I flushed, wishing I could banish the embarrassment which was clawing its way into my cheeks and stepping further away from him so I could inspect the broken waterwheel.
“I don’t know,” I said with a shrug.
“Bullshit. What happened?” He tossed three more bags out and splattered several more trees with mud for good measure.
The Bear watched everything with tired eyes, a low grumble escaping it as it turned its gaze onto me.
I blinked, the weight of its stare summoning the truth to my lips despite my desire to hide any and all forms of weakness from this Fae brute who insisted on keeping my company.
“I… did what you said. But it felt all wrong somehow.”
“You weren’t forceful enough,” Hendrix commented, and I scowled.
“Force is not your strength.”
I gasped, whirling around and snatching the slingshot from my belt, loading it with a stone from my pocket in the next breath and staring out into the trees in alarm as I hunted for my target.
“What is it?” Hendrix was at my side already, sword drawn, brow low as he hunted the trees with me, his powerful body poised for attack.
The protection the Bear was offering us from the storm only extended ten feet or so, and beyond it a curtain of blustering rain and swirling leaves veiled our view of the trees.
“It came from over there,” I said, bobbing my chin towards the dense woodland to the south, though truthfully, I wasn’t certain of that.
“What did?”
“That voice,” I said, sparing a frown for Hendrix whose gaze was now pinned on me alone.
“There was no voice,” he replied, no uncertainty in his words, the Fae arrogance solidly in place.
My lips parted on a protest but the voice came again.
“You were not selected for this bond for your brute strength, spirit singer. Do not think to force me beneath your heel now.”
I sucked in a breath, stumbling back a step at the rumbling voice which echoed within the confines of my own soul.
“The Dragon…” I mumbled, almost tripping on a root as I tried to back away from something which was impossible to hide from.
“Speak plainly, lightwing,” Hendrix growled, catching my arm to halt my retreat.
My eyes flicked up to his, the panic which was rising in my chest stilling at the solid weight I found in his expression.
“I can hear the Dragon’s voice in my mind,” I told him, and his brows lowered over those stoic eyes.
“The spirit speaks to you?”
“Yes… no… I mean, I hear a voice which can’t be any other.” I shrugged uselessly but he didn’t release me.
“What is it saying?”
“Nothing now. But the Dragon told me it didn’t pick me for brute strength – I don’t think it liked it when I tried to force it to fall to my command.”
Hendrix scoffed, releasing me and giving the forest a lingering look before moving back to removing sacks of grain from our shelter.
“That was apparent when it tore the castle down around us. You’ll have to be firmer with it the next time you attempt to call it forth. And I’d suggest waiting until we aren’t approaching the night with only one chance of shelter to be found.”
I frowned at his back, not agreeing with his assessment of what I needed to do to win the Dragon to my favour but not wanting to fall into an argument with him either.
I tried reaching out to the Dragon again, calling to it in the darkness of my mind, but I only found sullen silence as a reply.
My attention moved to the Bear who cocked its head at me, water spilling from its snout and ears with the movement.
“Can you talk too?” I asked it curiously.
“No,” Hendrix answered for it. “My spirits remain dormant and silent while awaiting my command. They do not whisper words of madness in my ears, and you’d do well to ignore anything the Dragon attempts to hiss your way too.”
I pursed my lips, not agreeing with him at all, but that was nothing new.
“Hello?” I felt like a fool as I tried to speak to the Bear within my own mind, but the spirit blinked as if perhaps-
A violent crash of thunder rattled the sky overhead and I flinched, having almost forgotten the storm which raged beyond the confines of the Bear’s magic.
“The other sacks will tear if I try to haul them out. This is the best I can do, unless you wish to sleep on heaps of rotting grain?” Hendrix called, and I turned to our shelter for the night.
“It will do,” I said, not looking at him as I took in just how small the space within the grain store was and just how closely we’d be spending the night with one another. “Thank you.”
“I’m sorry, did the wild little human just deign to offer thanks to the brutish Fae?” Hendrix taunted.
“Don’t get used to it.”
I headed inside, taking my pack from my shoulders and moving into the sparce, though thankfully dry room.
Hendrix paused on the threshold, turning back to look at the Bear as he banished it.
I watched as the spirit slipped out of its physical form, returning to the amulet Hendrix wore at his throat.
Jealousy sparked within me at both how easily he wielded his spirit and the unfading sting over the Bear’s ownership.
The rain slammed down into the clearing the Bear had created for us in a rush that exploded with sound, and I cringed away from the cold and wet while Hendrix stepped fully inside and slammed the door to block it out.
Night wasn’t far from us and with the door closed, there was little to no illumination left in the grain store.