Chapter 9 #3
“That thing is called a boggart. It’s basically a faerie bogeyman.
Their kind live out here in the marshlands.
It typically goes after humans and our younglings, but it’s been known to go after just about anything if it’s desperate enough, so our kind knows to avoid the marshes whenever possible.
” His words are soft, but the last part carries with it the double meaning.
Message received loud and clear.
“Oh.” It’s all I have as a response after hearing his explanation. Shame and guilt rolls through me.
The longer Bastian holds me, the more I relax into his hold. The more I feel… safe. The trembling has started to subside with every swipe of his hand. I take a few shaky breaths, letting the calming silence of the forest around the marsh to sooth my frayed emotions.
He lifts his hand and draws it gently down my cheek, tingles trailing in its wake.
Until he hits a particularly painful spot, and I can’t hold back the wince.
He instantly stills and pulls his hand away.
I look into his crystal blue eyes and see the storms gathering behind them.
They look tortured. I watch him closely as his eyes survey the rest of my body.
I can tell when they reach my injured hand based on how they widen.
I look at my hand fully for the first time and see the bruises circling my wrist and how my hand looks absolutely mangled, swollen and my fingers bent at odd angles.
He reaches a tentative hand to gently prod the bruises.
I grit my teeth and do what I can to stifle the whimper that forces its way up my throat at the contact. “It’s a little tender,” I squeak out.
He gives a slow nod. “I don’t think the wrist is broken, just badly bruised.
” His exploratory hand continues its movements down towards my fingers and my busted ring.
Several gemstones are either shattered or completely missing and the band has several cracks, leaving it barely hanging on to its place on my finger.
I breathe out a hiss when he goes to shift my fingers to get a better look at the ring.
“Your fingers on the other hand are definitely broken,” he whispers.
I huff out a laugh. “You don’t say.”
His eyes pop up to my face and a soft, haunted smile touches his lips for a moment. “At least your attitude is still intact.” He returns his attention to my injured hand. “What happened here?”
“That creature—the boggart—really didn’t like my ring for whatever reason?
And when it reached to remove it, I clenched my hand into a fist so it couldn’t pull the ring off.
Little did I know it would be so resourceful and find a way to destroy it while it was still on my finger.
” I watch as Bastian’s brows draw down in confusion.
I tilt my head at him in question. “What is it?”
“I’m trying to think about why it would want to remove your ring.
If it was a protection charm, it shouldn’t have been so easily destroyed either, so I’m beginning to think it might not be.
” He schools his face back into his usual collected calm and looks around the forest. I can see the burnt orange rays of a sunset creeping through the leaves.
“Come, let’s get back to the cottage so I can treat your wounds. ”
He rises to his feet and scoops me up into his arms and starts to walk us towards the dappled charcoal gray stallion that I only just noticed has been grazing a short distance away.
“I have one question,” I ask, earning me a raised eyebrow, my only indication to continue. “How did you find me?”
His steps falter so briefly that I wouldn’t have noticed it had he not been holding me.
He clears his throat roughly. “I must have gotten back not too long after you left. I picked up your scent and followed it here.” His words make sense, but I can’t explain it.
There’s something about them that strikes a chord wrong in my chest. It doesn't quite fit.
“Well, tha—” A finger crushes to my lips, halting my words. Bastian raises an eyebrow at me bringing me back to myself. My eyes widen as I realize I almost thanked him.
“One favor from you is more than enough,” he explains as if he can read the question swirling through my head about why he would’ve stopped me.
“Although, I’m starting to regret my decision to not call it in earlier,” while his words could be intended seriously, I can detect the hint of mirth lacing through them.
My brows furrow. “What?”
“Last night, staellara.”
“Last night? What about—” I cut off as a sleep-addled memory invades.
Will you stay with me?
Of course.
Thank you.
“No,” I breathe out my denial. I thanked him. In my drowsy, post-nightmare state my mind must have been so frazzled that I didn’t even realize. I’m so used to being able to thank people freely that it slipped out without me even realizing.
“Oh my gods, I—” I’m sure I look white as a sheet at this point with the panic racing through my veins. A favor for a Fae could be something entirely mundane and innocent, but if they’re feeling particularly malicious or mischievous it could be something dangerous, if not even life threatening.
And now I owe him a favor.
“Shhh, Liv. I won’t actually call it in.” His voice sounds genuine but doubt flares in my chest.
Can I trust him?
I might have to, considering there’s not much I can do about my fuck up.
He lifts me up onto the horse before he swings up behind me. His arm snakes around my stomach, pulling me flush against him.
The adrenaline is wearing off and I’m struggling to keep my eyes open, but I still want to make sure he knows I’m thankful for his help today, even though I got myself into this situation and he had no reason to help me.
“I appreciate you finding me. And coming to my rescue.” My words start to slur out towards the end as sleep tries to overtake me.
He doesn’t respond at first, just kicks the horse into motion as my eyes drift shut. I can barely feel his breath tickle my ear as he whispers his response. I don’t fully catch the words as I start to drift off but I could’ve sworn they were something about finding me anywhere.