Chapter 23
CHAPTER 23
AMMAYI
M y eyes open slowly, and a satisfied smile curls the corners of my mouth as my gaze falls upon the male sleeping beside me, his wings gently rising and falling with his every breath. He has been sleeping with us for the last several days, ever since the pumpkin carving party, and I still can’t get used to it. His short hair tousled over his face, his sharp features seem softer and sweeter while he’s asleep.
He still hasn’t touched me, of course—at least not sexually—but his hand will sometimes graze my arm or shoulder in passing or touch briefly on my hip if he’s trying to get my attention. There has even been a time or two that I’ve woken up with his arm wrapped around me and his noticeable erections pressed against me. Privately, I’ve begun looking forward to those little moments. And plotting a way to encourage more.
If I’m going to be a pixies’ queen, then I want my whole hive in every way. My smile grows as I sit up and lift my arms over my head in a leisurely stretch. Sleeping between the warmth of my two mates is definitely a good start. Speaking of which… where is Tryst? I glance over to his side of the bed which apparently went cold some time ago.
“ Zini , you are awake,” Tryst calls out in greeting to me.
I turn over onto my knees and grin as I see him flit inside with a fat crabapple in his arms. Thankfully, the nights had not quite gotten cold enough for a hard frost to ruin the fruits, and I can feel my stomach awaken at the prospect of a delicious breakfast. Noticing the direction of my gaze, he winks at me and carries it across the room to set it next to a quail egg. I give it a curious look as I try to remember which of the neighbors was raising quails in the small coop on the roof. Ah, Mrs. Denner. She once exclaimed over them as possessing a rich flavor, but it had always seemed a bit pointless for what would be less than a mouthful. Now, however, that useless little quail egg is now practically the size of an ostrich egg for me. I could kiss the woman since it is obvious that Tryst had raided the coop while I was sleeping.
Oh well. She’ll hardly miss a single egg which is why I didn’t put them on the forbidden list when speaking to my mates about not touching the domestic animals in the community. As long as it’s not a fully grown bird or a chick, there won’t be any kind of fuss made.
“What do you have there?” I whisper as I crawl out of the bed and make my way across the coffee table to him, noting other berries and seeds added to the pile.
“Breakfast,” he replies cheerfully. “I even fetched this for you,” he adds, producing a small wooden cannister that he had been laboriously hollowing out for days, complete with a screw-top lid and some sort of gummy seal.
Curious, I take it from him and open the lid. A fragrant steam immediately rises up, and I gasp aloud with pleasure.
“Coffee? Where did you get coffee?”
His smile widens, his wings humming with delight behind him. “I remember that you desired it, and since I have not yet fashioned all the proper cooking equipment to make it for you, I followed a bunch of humans and found the shop distributing it. The owner was gracious enough to provide a small amount for me. One of your human dollars provides me with coffee for you every day for a month.”
My eyebrows rise as I take a sip of the coffee. And not just regular coffee, but a foamy latte that I lick from my lips with a happy hum. I’m impressed. “Where did you get the dollar?”
A guilty look colors his face, and he motions down the hall toward my bedroom. “It was on the large wooden stand by your bed. Since you refused to go in there, I thought maybe you would not mind if I needed to utilize it to acquire something for you.”
It’s strange that he would think that I would be angry about that. It’s just a dollar and worth next to nothing in this economy, except apparently a month supply of mini lattes. Besides which, last I checked he is the equivalent of a pixie husband.
“Aren’t you my mate?”
He gives me an adorably puzzled look, his indigo wings twitching with uncertainty. “Of course. Can you not feel it?” he murmurs, and I feel the warmth of his love pour through me as his eyes warm with emotion.
“What is that?” I whisper. “I’ve been feeling it for a while, but I always thought it was just my imagination. But that definitely didn’t feel like it was coming from me.”
He shakes his head. “Many fae species do not mate bond the same way pixies do. I suspect humans are this way as well. Our special bond is something that allows us to connect powerfully to each other when we are in proximity to each other.”
“But I’m not a pixie,” I remind him—as if he really needs that reminder.
A sweet smile tugs at his lips, and I sense a gentle ripple of his amusement rising briefly before fading away.
“You are not,” he agrees. “But you are a pixie’s queen—my queen—which means that you are likely to experience similar responses to our bonding.”
“That’s wild,” I murmur, and my eyes drift over to Havoc. What I wouldn’t give to know his inner feelings. Without preamble, I gesture toward the sleeping male. “So this will happen when we mate too?”
Tryst smiles and nods. “And it will be a good thing. If Havoc had properly mated you and accepted you as our queen from the beginning, it would have resolved so many problems before they even started. He would have understood the real you, and you would have likewise seen past his defenses.”
“Hmm,” I hum as I take another sip of my latte. “Gotcha. Basically, it produces the soft chocolatey center without having to chip away at the hard candy coating,” I say slowly. I tip my head and smirk. “Although the licking has been fun in its own way.”
My mate gives me a confused look and chuckles as he shakes his head mirthfully. “You say the strangest things, zini .”
“I have to admit that I am curious about his story. He must have one to have flipped out about the accidental dusting.”
Tryst hesitates but, after a moment of consideration, nods. “First, you must understand that pixie colonies are all alike in that possessing what is considered less desirable characteristics—something as simple as color, the shape of one’s wings, or even the pulse of one’s shimmer,” he says, pointing to the soft light emanating from his belly, “can cause pixies to be rejected as mates, although they can serve as castri for sexual education within the colony.”
Gross. Fortunately, I manage not to react; after all, this is his culture. Not mine. And I have no right to weigh in on it. As long as none of my mates are being pressured into sex work, I’m fine.
“And you’re considered undesirable,” I say, filling in the obvious blank.
He nods and sighs heavily. “It is all very arbitrary. What can be considered attractive and fortuitous in one colony can be a devastation in another, but the additional disadvantage of having to leave our maternal colonies means that we do not always get to pick what colonies accept our presence. It just happens that in this one our colors are unfavorable, but at least we had territory and a colony we could survive in. We did not mind our disadvantage at first since we still drew some admiration from the young queens. We thought that we would eventually win them over.” His wings shift helplessly as he shrugs. “But years pass, and hope turns to bitterness. And Havoc… he is a male of deep feeling. Eventually he refused to have anything to do with queens or making any attempt to mate.”
“Until he was given the dust to capture my sister.”
“Until that point,” Tryst agrees solemnly. “He saw it as a gift. A gift that would allow him to select a mate that he desired rather than having to perform or appear in a way that suited another.”
My heart squeezes in sympathy. He was gifted with something amazing and then got me. “He must have been so disappointed to have wasted it on me.”
“What waste?” Havoc peers at me from the bed as he lightly scratches at the chitin covering his chest. He rises then, the bedding twisting briefly and falling away from his lithe, sculpted frame. “I see no waste here.”
My eyes drop in embarrassment because I’m remembering things a little differently and also recall with acute embarrassment everything I did to make things more difficult. “I sure did try to waste your efforts to hunt for me,” I point out.
He looks at me in surprise and I blush. Yeah, that really didn’t make a good impression on him.
“About that—I’m sorry. I should have realized that you were being serious, and it was stuff you’d actually eat rather than thinking you were just picking on me.”
He tilts his head consideringly and at length he sighs, but in that small sound it seems that some of the tension between us unravels further. “Because I gave you no cause to think anything else. Of course you would think badly of my gifts. And you did not understand our ways, nor did we try to teach you. Do not think any further on this.”
Tryst nods somberly in agreement. “I did not help in my coddling rather than helping Havoc show you what is necessary for your survival. So you are not to blame, zini .”
A faint smile stretches my lips as I regard the males through new eyes. Tryst wasn’t perfect. Havoc wasn’t a monster. Instead, I’ve been given two glorious males who each care for me in their own imperfect ways. I can accept that considering I’m far from perfect myself and I resolve to do more to learn so that I can take care of them as well instead of just being a burden for them—even if neither has dared to call me such. Even Havoc at his nastiest did not aim that particular word at me, and it tells me all I need to know about how serious their feelings have been. And that’s just amazing to me. More than that they are incredible males in their own right. Tryst’s thoughtfulness is the perfect counterbalance to Havoc’s passion.
I’m entertaining ideas of how to tempt that passion to the surface when Havoc’s wings stretch and flicks as he casts a casual gaze between me and Tryst, and the assortment of food lying in front of us. Unexpectedly, his eyes settle on the crabapple and his eyes dance with interest.
“Fairy apples,” he breathes enthusiastically. He glances over at Tryst and grins. “We must go gather more. I can mash these down and brew them to make a pleasant drink for our nest over the winter.”
My eyebrows go up at his words because I can’t imagine what he would make that isn’t already readily available in town. Whatever it is, Havoc’s wings are humming with uncontainable excitement, and Tryst not only looks thrilled but is practically bursting with happiness as well. So, not to be the party pooper in our little family, I keep that observation to myself. There must be something particularly momentous about it because, with a quick nod, I’m bundled up into my mate’s arms and carried out in the chill morning air.
Crows immediately burst from the trees, their massive bodies diving dangerously close as sharp beaks snap at the air, pecking for us amid the flurry of feathers. There is a spark of something that feels like what I can only describe as evil in the air, and that rattles my nerves. A particularly large and strikingly familiar crow dives at us at the head of the flock. Its wings beat the air and the feathers glimmer like mica or a shimmer of magic clinging to them, and I swear that I see something swirling in its eyes.
What the fuck is this, Hitchcock’s wet dream? Another sequel to The Birds , perhaps?
A scream rises in my throat as its wicked beak plunges for me, but Tryst hisses and banks away as he spins with Havoc in a quick flight that I sense is intentionally designed to confuse the creatures. Though it only lasts a moment before the crows fall away with a plaintive sound, I’m still frozen with fear in the icy morning air.
I shiver and huddle against Tryst, noting that bird horror aside, the air is most definitely getting colder with the approach of winter. Tryst has begun tanning a squirrel’s hide that Havoc brought home to make me something warm to wear. It doesn’t help that the drafts in my apartment are also far more noticeable with how big the space now feels. I would crank up the heat but that would do terrible things to my electric bill that my parents would object to.
“Perhaps a birdhouse would be better,” I mutter. “At least it would be cozy instead of so damn drafty.”
Tryst chuckles in response as he flies next to Havoc. “Our mate says she wishes for a birdhouse!” he shouts over, much to my embarrassment.
Is he going crazy now? I look up at him and widen my eyes at him in warning but he just grins with merriment. Even Havoc has stopped watching where the hell he is flying to look over me with an identical expression. They’re like a pair of children presented a gift they’ve only dreamed of, and I haven’t a clue how a birdhouse plays into that.
“Watch the air,” I bark at Havoc, and he chuckles as he effortlessly dodges a tree that came within a heart attack’s range of clobbering him. I let out my held breath in relief and glare at the idiot. “Are you insane or something?”
“Or something,” he agrees with a dark chuckle. “A pixie something. Some would say that pixies are blessed with madness.”
I groan because of course that would be popular knowledge among the fae—and it seems to be something that I’m just starting to find out.
CHAPTER 24
Tryst
I cuddle my queen to me as I lead Havoc along the now familiar path back to the crabapple tree. It is a good thing I have been long blessed with a musician’s sharp memory or else I might not have recalled the route so perfectly. And to think that I discovered it solely by happenstance, but judging by the delight of both my mate and nest brother, it is fortuitous. It is just unfortunate that the crows continue to be an annoying plight. When we build our nest, we will have to carefully consider the location. They are not fast enough to snatch a pixie from the air, but I would worry about my mate and any future offspring with them around.
With Havoc’s resistance and Ammayi’s apathy toward adjusting to her new life, I had not dared to hope for such a thing. But in a short time, everything has changed around.
Havoc exchanges a pleased look with me as my queen’s words continue to echo through me. Although she jested about a birdhouse, I can see and feel the true desire behind it even if she does not entirely know what she is asking for. She wants a nest! She has finally fully accepted us and is ready to make a permanent home with Havoc and me.
I am so elated that my wings hum as I streak between the trees, heading for the lonely crabapple sitting apart in the shadows of what appears to be a small grove flourishing in an uninhabited spot. It occurs to me belatedly that I should have grabbed one of my newly woven baskets or fashioned a simple pouch from the silk I had been weaving, but then I would have no space left in my arms to carry my mate. And when it comes right down to it, when it comes to what I prefer to have in my arms, it will always be my Ammayi.
Ammayi’s grip tightens on me as she looks around, and her breath beats against my chitin as I catch a wave of anxiety when her gaze falls upon the tree. “Tryst, that is the most haunted-looking tree I’ve ever seen,” she whispers.
I glance at the tree and frown a little. Although bathed in sunlight it possesses a craggy, twisted structure that almost appears unnatural if not for the ripe fruits hanging from its branches among its golden leaves. I hug her close with a chuckle as I flit toward it.
“Just consider it another one of your Halloween treats,” I tease, and my smile widens when she predictably rolls her eyes at my jest.
“Halloween treat my ass if it eats me,” she retorts hotly, but her demeanor has lightened and the strain in our bond fades as she relaxes once more in my arms. “Those crabapples better be worth it.”
“We will make it worth it,” I assure her, and I privately hope that Havoc finally takes some initiative and claims our queen beneath the blessed fruit of the fairy apples.
If so, it will add a special magic to our mating that few hives get to experience. Fairy apples are few and far between in the Dark Forest as it is, but since pixies mate before the depths of the autumn season arrive, there is seldom such an opportunity unless a hive finds an early fruiting tree at the northern edge of the forest or late blooming one if he ventures into the more southern parts. That he plans on making fairy apple wine with the fruit—a traditional mating gift to bless newly mated hives and queens—is even more propitious as it will give the apples even greater magic that we can enjoy with every cupful throughout our first winter together.
Curious as to his intentions, I catch my nest brother’s eye as I stretch my senses along our bond. Havoc’s gaze slides over to me briefly and he grins before suddenly darting forward through the air, a happiness mingling with carnal lust following him. Closing my eyes in silent gratitude, I bask in the joy filling me, not only from within me but from Havoc as well. Our hive will finally be complete. We will finally truly have our queen. Thank the gods.
Increasing my pace, I chase after Havoc all the way to the tree. I nearly catch up to him when the male immediately shoots upward, skimming the front of the tree, flying up to the highest branches. Admitting my defeat, I aim for one of the middle branches laden heavily with fruit. This branch is also thicker than many of the others and will make a pleasant resting place as we enjoy the autumn afternoon.
Placing Ammayi gently on her feet, I steady her with one hand as I tip my head back in an effort to catch sight of Havoc. Both of her hands cling nervously to my arm, but her laughter is bright as she likewise peers into the branches above us.
“Where is he?”
“Getting an apple, I believe,” I reply.
“Like there aren’t dozens on this branch,” she retorts with amusement. “Why go all the way up there?”
“Because none of these apples are sun-kissed with magic at the top of the tree,” Havoc replies, startling me so that my wings snap wide as he drops from the leaves just above us, his arms wrapped around a brilliant red fairy apple.
He grins as he straightens, holding the fruit out in offering. “Apples are very sacred to many races of the fae,” he murmurs, and my heart pounds in my chest as I realize exactly what he intends to do. I privately swear to commit every word of this to my memory to compose a song to regale our offspring to come. “It is said when the first elves awakened the first magic that they found love with each other and that love spilled the first seed, and from that first seed bore the first fruit. Its magic was great, and it bound all things and blessed all things, even as its magic quickened the land so that all manner of fruits rose from the soil. Thus,” he murmurs, “an apple presented is the greatest token of love that seals and blesses matings to never perish, not even beyond death.”
Ammayi’s eyes widen as she stares at the apple in his hands and her lips part as her pink tongue nervously wets them. “What exactly are you saying, Havoc?”
His dark eyes meet hers, and for a moment everything in the world seems to still around us. Even the blessed tree’s branches seem to bend as if waiting to hear his answer.
“I am saying that you complete my heart and complete our hive. You are our queen and the only female I could ever want. Fate gave you to us, and I will cherish you forever not because of fate or out of responsibility because of magic gone awry… but for you alone, the only female I love is you.”
“So you’re giving me a love apple on Halloween,” she murmurs. “Legend has it that apples can be used magically to coax someone to return your love on this night of the year. Is that what you want?”
He shakes his head, his eyes narrowing. “I do not wish to magically capture love because true love cannot be stolen away by a spell. All I wish is for whatever genuine love you might feel if you feel that I’m worthy of it.”
“You’ve hurt me,” she thoughtfully whispers, and he nods, not even denying it.
“And I have nearly destroyed myself in the process. I nearly doomed myself to an empty existence without even truly comprehending the magnitude of my actions until it was too late. I did not understand that running from love and not trusting the love that was given rather than what was chased was cruelty I inflicted upon myself and could blame on no other. But for my actions against you, I will never cease being regretful.”
Her head tips thoughtfully, and I can feel happiness warring with conflict through our bond. The battle has not been won yet.
“And if I say no?”
Havoc grows still and his violet wings droop as pain lashes through his eyes and through our bond. He could protest. He could fight and swear to pursue her to the ends of the world and to the limits of time. I can barely breathe as I watch this play out because I know what will happen if he does.
A sigh slips from between his lips, and he lowers the apple. “Then I will love you enough to let go so that you can find joy from someone far more deserving.”
Ammayi’s lips tighten, and I can feel the coil of tension of something deeper rising from within her. My wings flick nervously as I look back and forth between the two beings most dear and beloved in my life. I did not expect this possibility. I am afraid she will knock the apple from his hands, and that worry deepens when her regard slowly drops back to the apple Havoc holds. Her hand swipes toward it but pauses in midair, just inches from its bright flesh.
Magic bubbles and sparks in the air, and her fingers twitch and slowly curl as if she is about to tentatively reach for it instead. My breath stills expectantly as her hands hover there for a long moment. But they do not touch the apple at all. They abruptly rise to cover her mouth as a giggle escapes her, and then another until she drops her hands away to fill the air with her laughter until it fades, and she is staring back at his shocked face with a look of adoration brightening her eyes and rippling through our bond.
“Havoc, you lovely idiot,” she sighs. “I’ve already forgiven you and decided that you’ll be mine.” Her lips quirk. “I’m afraid I’m just selfish enough to want all of my hive to myself. That means you, me, and Tryst in our own little nest having our own happily ever after. How does that sound to you?”
A smile blooms on his face, one I can feel answering on my own lips and within my heart echoing from my family’s love.
“That sounds like magic,” he whispers.
“Then take a bite and kiss me over the apple,” our queen demands.
As one their teeth break the apple’s flesh and as one their lips meet, tongues entangling as the blessed apple’s magic spills through them. The apple tumbles from their hands, forgotten, to seed the next generation as they come together, meeting in the bloom of love. My wings flutter in excitement as Havoc gently presses Ammayi back into my arms, and together we sink to the branch, bliss spilling over and through us as new bonds begin to fashion and awaken.