30. The Animal
30
THE ANIMAL
B aba Yaga’s spell worked. Saffron slept until he ceased to exist, dreaming only faintly and briefly of the sound of knocking doors. Knock knock, knock knock, melting in and out each and every time, until Saffron didn’t know which was the sound of a fist on a door, or the veil being torn asunder.
The thing to finally, fully rouse him, long after the sun had already risen on the other side of the window—was a familiar voice speaking assertively from the other side of the bedroom door.
“I mean no disrespect! But I really must insist! I just want to know he’s alright!” —followed by the sound of Baba Yaga’s door opening. Sionnach stood looking pale and apprehensive on the other side, staring as Saffron lazily lifted his head, hair wild and an impression of the pillow printed on his cheek. Next to him, Copper perked up as well, stretching his legs long before yawning with a broad array of sharp teeth.
“Saffron!” Sionnach exclaimed, racing into the room. They shoved Copper out of the way, throwing their arms around Saffron who was still trying to reattach his ghost to his bones. He at least had enough wherewithal to hug his friend back. “Gods, I’ve been worried sick! About both of you!” They grabbed Copper by the snout next, making the fox writhe and roll around in protest. “How could you just leave like that! And then Cylvan threw such a fit on a train, scared everyone half to death! It’s only because Saoirse thought to tell us anything just before she left with him that we even knew how to come find you! God damn you, you—! You witch!”
Despite every other emotion coursing through him, summoned back to the surface by the mere mention of Cylvan’s name—Saffron still smiled weakly. He hugged his friend again tightly, stealing their warmth, their liveliness, their energy.
“I’m sorry for worrying you,” he said, and Sionnach’s tense body loosened. They slumped back into his arms, holding him again and sighing.
“Don’t do it ever again,” they whispered. “Or I’ll never forgive you.”
“Alright,” Saffron breathed. “I promise.”
Pulling on his dried clothes, he followed them from Baba Yaga’s room out into the kitchen, where Saffron was surprised to find Maeve also sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of tea—only to be more caught off guard at the sight of Aodhán sitting with her. Saffron had fully expected the fey gentle to have gone back to Avren with Cylvan and Saoirse, but instead they sat looking more irritated and brooding than ever while glaring down at an herb-and-seed scone. When he and Sionnach stepped into the kitchen, Aodhán barely turned to give Saffron a look, before sighing and grabbing the scone to bury into their mouth.
“Good morning, Maeve,” Saffron said as Maeve sipped her tea. “Sorry for making you worry.”
“No apologies,” she said. “It was thrilling to watch Cylvan go completely mad on the train in front of all those people.”
Another mention of his prince, another twist in Saffron’s gut. He nodded, but averted his eyes. A part of him wanted to know exactly what had happened—a part of him wished it would stop being mentioned.
Before any further conversation could be made, Baba Yaga made Saffron and Sionnach sit down to eat something. A welcome offering, as Saffron’s stomach growled, but surreal all the same. Especially as Maeve made perfectly polite conversation with his henmother like they’d known each other for ages, though perhaps that was only her mastery of high fey manners coming through.
When Aodhán’s eyes on him were finally too much to ignore, Saffron gave them an exasperated look. They smirked in reply, but something about it seemed awkward, like even they weren’t entirely sure what they were looking for. Clearly they wished to say something, though, more than just the pleasantries passed around between the others, and Saffron raised a pointed eyebrow at them to go ahead and break the ice.
“Are you alright?” They asked, and Saffron raised his eyebrows in a different way. Surprised, as it was the last thing he expected.
“I’m fine,” he said, though not with any real persuasion. “Thanks to Baba Yaga, I finally slept through the night, at least.”
“Must have been a pretty strong spell.”
Saffron swirled the coffee in his mug, watching as the rough grounds at the bottom settled. Everyone else had gone quiet, too, also watching him. He hated that. But he also shouldn’t have been surprised.
“Thank you all for coming to get me,” he said. “I… wasn’t expecting it.”
“We weren’t about to go back to Avren all alone with his highness,” Maeve muttered, sipping at her own mug. “We passed him on the road last night as he was leaving Morrígan, too. Wouldn’t even look at us.”
Saffron’s hands wrung together under the table.
“I’m sorry for causing so much trouble,” he whispered. “But it was the only thing I could think to do.”
“Did you find what you were looking for?” Sionnach asked with a sense of reassurance. At the very least, Saffron was able to nod at them.
“Yes—I was able to speak to someone who knows more than they let on, here.” Everyone glanced to Baba Yaga, who gave them a wicked grin, and Saffron laughed before shaking his head.
“What did this mystery person say?” Maeve asked. Saffron tangled his fingers together a little more, picking at frayed pieces of his cuticles and scratching at the nearly healed-over scrapes on his palms.
“They said… Ryder is most likely hunting down a memory tapestry. One he thought would be in the high hall, but obviously wasn’t.”
He let that reveal settle amongst them, waiting for any more questions to come. When none did, he realized it was because everyone sat in a state of nauseated uncertainty.
“Yeah,” he grimaced. “That’s how I feel, too. What’s more, after looking at some of the things I had to show him… specifically, the arid circle Ryder has been using, and the pixie ring Copper took from him in Ailinne… my friend said Ryder Kyteler is more likely not who we think. For reasons other than the obvious. He—he may be a lot older and know a lot more than we anticipated. Which makes him even more dangerous than we originally thought.”
“Have anything stronger than coffee, Ms. Nora?” Maeve groaned, but Baba Yaga was already gone to work digging some scotch out from her hiding place in the spice cabinet. Saffron took it from her before anyone else could, drinking straight from the bottle. He felt like he deserved it.
“So should we continue following him?” Sionnach asked. “He’ll be in Vjallrod, next, according to the queen’s route…”
Saffron didn’t answer right away. He let the alcohol hook into his soul, watching as Maeve dumped two fingers of the drink into her mug, before passing it to Aodhán, who added a splash to theirs.
Saffron—didn’t know. Adelard had told him many very helpful things, yes, but—none of them solved the issue of catching Ryder. Let alone provided him any immediate insight into ways he could help the oracles get through to Asche and the others, like he’d hoped. Not that Saffron was eager to beseech the veil for anything again anytime soon, but—that had been the entire reason he’d abandoned Cylvan and the others from the start.
“Oh, god,” he moaned, snatching the bottle back and taking another swig. He didn’t want to be reminded of what came of his visit to the ruins. Or after.
Everyone else was back to speaking, allowing him a moment to gather his thoughts. To listen, to see if they had any better ideas than they did. Discussing the pros and cons of following Ryder to Vjallrod, or returning to Avren to try and work with the oracles. Saffron took another drink at that.
“I don’t think I want to go back to Avren yet,” he said with a grimace. “I doubt Cylvan wants anything to do with me at the moment. It might only make things worse if I go back now…”
They all looked at him like he was the most pitiful thing in the world, but at the same time, with eyes that swam with curiosity. Wanting to know what happened, what was said. Saffron didn’t answer out loud, but glanced down at his hand on the table—only then realizing part of the reason why they kept throwing him so much pity. Without his amethyst pendant, every one of Saffron’s friends saw his human exhaustion right at the forefront. Not only that, they saw how his scarred, ugly hands—lacked the prince’s engagement ring, any longer.
“Oh, gods,” Sionnach gasped with a hand to their mouth. “You two—did you…?”
“I don’t know,” Saffron groaned, shaking his head. “No, no, I—I didn’t break off our engagement or anything, I don’t think—not really, at least, I was just—I was just emotional, and he was driving me mad, and he wouldn’t leave me alone, and I just snapped…”
“Explains his mood on the road,” Maeve commented. Saffron groaned again, planting his face in his hand.
“Seems like a good time to go, if you did mean it,” Aodhán added. “Cylvan has been acting like a real bastard for some time, now?—”
“No!” Saffron exclaimed, voice cracking. “No, I don’t—I don’t want to go! I mean—I don’t want to go for good . I—I love him, I still love him, I only… I only wish…” he hated how his eyes burned, but he refused to cry. “I only wish things were easier. For the both of us.”
“He’s been making it hard all on his own—” Aodhán started, but Saffron shook his head again.
“No, it’s… it’s complicated, isn’t it?” He asked, like they would be able to answer. They just raised an eyebrow at him. “I mean—I know why he’s angry! Why he’s acting like this. I understand why he’s so upset and stressed out and— bitey! I even understand why he resents me, even if he won’t admit it. And I don’t blame him!” The words poured out of him, motivated by a single good night’s rest and lubricated by scotch on an empty stomach. “I think I resent some things he’s done, too! Considering what this goddamned world has put the both of us through, it all makes perfect sense, doesn’t it! But I promised him a long time ago—I promised I wouldn’t leave. Especially when things stopped being so sunny and bright and perfect. That’s all anyone has ever done with him! Once the darkness creeps in, whether his fault or not, they leave! Because, yeah! He can be a bit of a bastard! But I promised to stay with him. Even when things felt impossible. I promised I would always try to understand him, and support him. And I will. I’m going to. I’ve done more for him in worse—and he has always been there to catch me when I needed him most, too, I…” a few tears dripped, and Saffron scrambled to smear them away in embarrassment. “I’m in love with him. I still am, obviously. I agreed to be his king, but more than that—I agreed to love him. No matter what came. I’m the only one who knows—exactly how warm and bright he can be. So I’m not leaving him, even if he resents me for that, too…”
Sionnach’s hand found Saffron’s on the table, and the tension in Saffron’s body deflated in an instant. He shook his head, wiping his eyes one more time.
“Sorry,” he whispered. “I think I’m a little drunk, already.”
“Don’t apologize,” Aodhán answered first. Thoughtfully, but also like they’d just been blasted with a cold wind they weren’t prepared for.
“So, should we go back to Avren?” Sionnach urged quietly.
“No!” Saffron exclaimed again, before biting down on his tongue. “Sorry, I mean...! I don’t know, god, I just don’t know….”
“Maybe slow down on the scotch for a bit,” Maeve said. She put out her hand, and Saffron handed it over willingly, watching as she dumped another finger-full into her mug. That was when Baba Yaga finally stepped in, snatching it back and corking it with a definitive squeak.
“That wicked prince of yours cares for you as well, Saffron,” the henmother interjected, as she tucked the bottle back into its hiding place. Turning back to the others, she reached into her apron, extending her hand. Dropping Saffron’s ring first, then the long chain of his amethyst pendant second, into his open palms. Saffron’s breath caught. “Last night, after I cursed him to the bone, as satisfying as it was to see him looking like a kicked puppy in my doorway—he still paused to make sure to give that to me. He asked me to give it back to you. Then—he asked that I allow you to stay here, as long as you’d like. He said you don’t have to return to Avren until you’re ready, and he’ll wait, no matter how long it takes.”
Saffron stared down at the purple stone, that matched Cylvan’s eyes. Shiny, polished, but not with a soft rag or expert hands. As if Cylvan had anxiously rubbed his thumb over the face of the gemstone like he did the wooden hair pick Saffron had gifted him.
“Oh…” he whispered, before carefully returning the ring to his finger, where it belonged. “I didn’t hear any of that.”
“He whispered it,” Baba assured him. “Like it suffocated him, to have to turn and leave without you.”
Saffron pressed his lips together. Before the emotions could grapple for him again, though, his henmother’s hand found his chin, tipping his face up to look at her.
“That prince of yours is a nefarious thing,” she said. “His capacity for cruelty is—well, perhaps there is more to it than simply rumors. I believe he has been treating you poorly lately, and I made sure he knew it. I do not think you should forgive him just because he is as pathetic as he is wretched. However…” she sighed, brushing a thumb under one of Saffron’s eyes, where the glamour once again hid his exhaustion. “I agree with what you said—that things are complicated, aren’t they? You both have much to learn, about what it takes to be in love in a world without a single friend. Well, apart from this peculiar little band.” She scratched between Copper’s ears as she said it.
“Your henmother is right,” Maeve said. “As someone who’s known Cylvan since we were children—she’s absolutely right. He’s like a wild animal that’s never known love, suddenly offered a sweet little rabbit to keep him company. Wanting to care for it, but unable to help when the environment makes him snap. That’s not to say the rabbit is obligated to stay if it feels unhappy, or unsafe, but… but it was never the rabbit he despised.”
Saffron nodded. He squeezed the ring on his finger.
“I know that,” he whispered. “Cylvan is inherently—kind. He’s soft. He just wants to love—and be loved. And I want to love him. Even if no one else does.”
“He’s grown on me a bit, since you and I met,” Sionnach admitted, going red when everyone turned to them in surprise. They put their hands up with a nervous laugh. “I mean! I still don’t quite care for him, either, but… I can see how having someone to care for has changed him.”
“Agreed,” Maeve said. “If I were you, Saffron—I would leave him in Avren, for now. Let him go into hiding, if that’s what he needs. Like when Daurae Asche has to sneak away during fetes. Let him stew and think about what he’s done. Reflect on his behavior and all that. He’ll realize his mistake—though by what Ms. Nora already explained, it sounds to me like he already has. Even if his pride wouldn’t let him admit it last night.”
Saffron chuckled. He reclaimed his pendant in his hand, rubbing a thumb over the top before squeezing it. A subtle, uncertain warmth radiated back. Like Cylvan on the other end wasn’t sure Saffron actually meant to call out to him.
“You’re right,” he breathed. “You’re right. All of you. And I think…” he squeezed the pendant a little tighter, closing his eyes. He inhaled a deep breath, before looking up again. “I think we should continue north, to Vjallrod.”