Chapter 3
Three
Vale had not used his nest in a long time.
He required so little sleep, after all. And the void kept him eternally busy. If bushes didn’t part for him to walk through, he would not be able to remember where his nest was.
“This place is wonderful,” Ivy mumbled as yet another bone-bush moved out of the way for them. “Scary. But wonderful.”
Vale ignored her. He stepped past the bone-bush, eyeing it curiously.
The void had not been so responsive in centuries.
Last year—or possibly several years ago—he had fallen off the top of a tall tree, and nothing had moved to break his fall.
Now everything twisted and snapped out of his way like it was easy.
Ivy’s head lolled against his robed chest, all the fear gone from her scent.
Courtesy of the heatbloom, Vale reminded himself as she smudged her flushed, pollen-streaked cheek against his robe.
He could already smell it taking effect, hot desire rising off her skin.
At least she was doing her best to ignore it, none of the moaning or begging that he had expected.
Perhaps it did not affect mortals as much as it did demons or other paranormal creatures who took the pollen recreationally. The last thing he wanted was a heat-struck mortal in his void.
“Did that rose have feelings?” Ivy asked suddenly.
Vale did not know what a “rose” was. He assumed it was whatever mortal plant the heatbloom had transformed into to lure her in. It was gone by the time he showed up, using the cover of gold pollen to retreat into the undergrowth.
“Feelings,” he repeated.
Ivy nodded, her eyes half-lidded with pollen fever. “I felt this incredible joy when it sprayed me. It wasn’t mine; I could tell. Was it the rose?”
Vale frowned down at her. He had assumed she was delusional from the heatbloom pollen. But this sounded like something else. Something he previously thought was impossible.
“Everything in this void is connected,” Vale admitted grudgingly. “Do you still feel it? The emotion that does not belong to you?”
“No,” Ivy sighed. “It was so odd. Like I was… connected to something.”
Another bush moved out of the way, its bony leaves clacking.
Vale glared at it, waiting for an explanation.
But nothing pulsed into him—no whisper, not even a fleeting emotion.
Once, he was so attuned with the void they were practically one and the same.
Now it was communing with this mortal? Even his long-dead light-mote assistants had lived longer than mortals, who died within the century. What was the point?
Another hot flush of desire rose from Ivy’s skin. Vale closed his mouth, trying not to breathe it in. He could not afford to get distracted.
Ivy struggled against his grip, panic seeping back into her scent. “I can— I can work. You said something about… bone thickets?”
“The eastern rib-thickets,” Vale agreed. “They have been extremely unwieldy.”
“Extremely unwieldy,” Ivy whispered. Then she giggled, and the noise reminded Vale of a noise the light-motes used to make when they were happy. He had forgotten.
“They didn’t say you would be like this,” Ivy mumbled. “Said… said you were only knowledgeable when it came to killing. You sound like a scholar.”
Vale did not bother replying. Largely because he had no interest in what was being said, also he did not know what a scholar was.
Ivy lifted her head. There was a gold mark on his robes where her soft cheek had been resting.
“If you eat me,” she said, her voice very small, “could you do it fast?”
“I will not eat you,” Vale said, annoyed. “I told you, I am very badly in need of an assistant.”
“What if I’m bad at it?” Ivy croaked, her scent jumbled with a confusing blend of desire and mourning. “The palace gardeners always said I was getting in their way. And once I mistook a bad mushroom for a good one, and I made the whole Circle sick for weeks.”
“I will not eat you until you have proven yourself utterly useless,” Vale assured her. “And with training, you will not be. Are you satisfied?”
He looked down at her, expecting to see her relax. But if anything, she was only more upset.
“You seem nice,” she whispered. Tears glistened in the corners of her eyes.
Vale did not understand her. If she was worried about being eaten, why should he upset her by being nice?
The last bone-bush splintered out of his way. Vale stepped into a familiar clearing, his tail unfurling in relief as he saw his nest stacked in the middle.
It had a base of bones, naturally. Then a cover of vines, for comfort. Finally, a layer of fur stripped from the nightbeasts. The fine sheen of cobwebs was new, and they vanished with a sweep of his robe.
Ivy sat up, wiping pollen from her eyelids. Her circlet braid had fallen from her head, her crimson crown turned into a limp line over her shoulder.
“Where are we?”
“My nest,” Vale explained. He lowered her into it, surprised by how small she looked inside it. Small and soft, her plump body was an oddly satisfying addition to the lush fur lining his nest.
“You will stay here until the heatbloom is out of your blood,” Vale continued.
“But,” Ivy started, pushing herself up on trembling elbows. “I’m meant to be of use.”
Golden pollen pooled between her breasts. Vale’s gaze dropped to it, unable to stop himself.
Ivy gasped, her red cheeks flushing even further. Vale could smell the heat between her legs, sweet and tantalizing.
Vale looked away, ignoring the strange stirring in his stomach. Hunger, of course. He wanted to sink his fangs into her soft thigh. But he also wanted to pry her legs open and taste her in a way that had nothing to do with how long it had been since his last meal.
He frowned, examining the pollen on his robes.
Usually, all filth slid off him effortlessly.
Was the heatbloom affecting him, too? Impossible.
He had touched this pollen a hundred times over the years.
It had never done anything to him before.
He did not feel feverish, just… surprisingly interested in the mortal lying in his nest.
“Um,” Ivy squeaked, pulling at her bloodstained dress. “Wh-what did you say this pollen did again?”
“I did not,” Vale said. He concentrated, willing the pollen off his robes. Most of it tumbled off, but faint stains remained.
He glared at his surroundings resentfully. Bone-bushes and trees would bend backwards to allow him to pass, but they would not clean his robes? What was happening to his void?
For the first time in a long time, the void answered. At least, it tried to. Bony branches coiled up his leg, throbbing in alarm.
“Now you speak with me,” Vale muttered.
“The plant spoke to you?” Ivy said weakly. “What did it say?”
“The plant said nothing,” Vale corrected. “The void is attempting to commune.”
The bony branches were retreating, a path clearing back where he had come from. Showing him where to go, yet again.
“Stay here,” Vale told Ivy.
Ivy struggled to her feet. “What? No! I’ll come.”
“You should rest.”
“It’s not that bad,” Ivy insisted, clearly lying. She was sweating hard, desire wafting off of her in waves.
She wobbled toward the edge of the nest. Vale considered restraining her, then decided against it. The void had obviously taken a liking to her for some incomprehensible reason. It would not harm her.
Vale set off down the path that the void had cleared for him. Interestingly, it led him straight back to the silver pool. He stood in front of it, annoyed.
“You might have told me when I was here mere minutes ago,” he said aloud. “I carried the mortal all the way back. What was the point?”
The void gave no answer.
Ivy stumbled behind him, panting. She was so unsteady on her feet that Vale almost regretted making her walk. He had hoped she would give up and head back to the nest.
“The void will not harm you, even if you are left alone,” he said reluctantly. “You should have…”
He trailed off. Something was pulsing inside the pool.
He stared into its silvery depths. The pool throbbed thrice more, then something he had never seen before happened:
A white crack appeared in the ground.
The air shivered. For the first time in decades, Vale felt what the void was feeling.
Fear. Deep dread. Something was poisoning it.
Then the void left his mind, and Vale reeled. Poisoning his void? There was only one explanation, whether she was aware of it or not…
He turned to Ivy. “Did you find your ring?”
Ivy blinked rapidly. There was no sour guilt in her scent, only the heady desire that was becoming difficult to ignore.
“My…” She touched her finger, where a ring might have rested. “No. But—but it showed me footprints. Back to the pool. Do you think it’s in there?”
A hundred possibilities flashed through Vale’s mind: a cursed ring crafted to poison the pool as he carried her into his void. Or perhaps the ring was just an excuse to come back here with whatever magical horror she had been hiding.
Vale turned his face to the dark, shimmering sky and waited.
No answer came. But no vines came shooting out of the ground to ensnare Ivy, no bones forming a cage to trap her inside. If she were truly a threat, the void would tell him.
Especially since it was so talkative now.
Ivy peered at the crack next to the pool. “Is that bad?”
“Yes,” Vale admitted. “Something has happened to the pool. Whatever happens to the pool will affect the entire void. I must contact my brother before it worsens.”
“Your brother?” Ivy whirled on him, the movement so fast it made her stumble.
She grabbed his robed arm, her fingers sinking into the muscle underneath.
Ivy trailed off, staring at his arm in a way he had not been looked at in a very long time.
The scent of desire thickened, and Vale was appalled to realize it was not entirely coming from her.
Calm yourself, he thought. He extracted his arm from her hold, and Ivy gasped as if coming up for air.