Chapter 27
Fern
There were no more rocks, and so Fern could no longer count the days.
She could not even count the meals, for they came with alarming irregularity. Sometimes she’d receive several within a few hours of each other, while other times she was sure it had almost been a whole day since the last.
Fern would almost assume it had been done on purpose to disorient her further, if not for the fact that Darion likely didn’t care enough to be that manipulative.
Adela was also gone, replaced by an attendant who had no tongue. And of course Fern could not ask why, or if it had been done to her recently, so there was no conversation there.
Even her wolf had gone silent, pouting in some recessed corner of her mind.
“You won’t embarrass me on the next full moon again, will you?”
She didn’t answer.
“Although I’ll probably still be here, anyway. Not like anyone would even be able to tell if I shifted or not.”
Fern lay on her back on the floor, singing to herself as her hands performed elaborate dances above her.
“She met him where the willows sway, and took his armored hand that day…”
There was a sound of raised voices outside of her room. It happened sometimes. She almost thought to ask them to quiet down, but they never listened to her anyway.
The door opened. She imagined it did that sometimes.
“At last his eyes met hers so true—”
“‘My heart,’ said he, ‘has been with you.’”
“You know it, then?” she asked without looking. There wouldn’t be anyone there, after all. “I had assumed Lurvekh wouldn’t know any human songs.”
“Most Lurvekh wouldn’t, but my mother used to sing that to me.”
The hallucination smelled real enough, further proof of her mind losing its edge. It lay on the floor beside her.
“And where did she learn it from? Her nursemaid?”
The hallucination sighed. “No, she was a Solvekh. Born and raised human outside of Millshire.”
Millshire… Fern had never been.
“What happened to her?”
There was a quiet pause before the hallucination spoke again. “She died.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be, it was a very long time ago.”
It paused again.
“When was the last time you spoke to someone?”
Fern shrugged, humming and twirling her hands again. “I don’t know, I don’t have any more rocks.”
“Rocks? What…”
“Rocks. One a day, until Darion took them away,” she replied in a lyrical voice, similar to the melody she’d just been singing.
“Solas’s Hells, I didn’t know it had gotten this bad.”
The hallucination stood. Then it grabbed her hand to help her up, and she screamed, trying to slide away. The touch was almost burning, it was too much. More than she could handle.
“Fern!”
“Go away,” she wailed, curling into herself. “Too real, it’s too real now.”
“I am real, Fern. Look at me!”
Her eyes were shut tightly and she shook her head, mumbling incoherently.
The hallucination let go, and then before she could even begin to hope it was gone, it picked her up and held her to its chest, the purring rumbling through her entire body.
“Breathe and tell me—what do you smell?”
Her muscles slowly relaxed, and she inhaled deeply.
“Eidan.”
“Good girl,” he said. “What else?”
She inhaled again. “I… I used to smell Reinn, but his scent is gone.”
“Forget about what you should smell. What’s real right now?”
“Woodsmoke.”
He grunted. “And?”
“The forest… damp earth…”
“Very good. Now what can you feel?”
She swallowed, trying to isolate the different sensations against her skin. “H-hands. Linen. Leather.”
He lowered his face, rubbing his cheek against hers, and she actually laughed.
“Your beard.”
“Perfect. Now open your eyes. What do you see.”
Slowly, her lids fluttered, and Eidan came into focus. His gray-blue eyes crinkled as he smiled. “There you are.”
Her lips quivered, and slowly, she reached a hand up to cup his face.
Real.
“Where were you?” she whispered, swallowing back the tears. “Kyntha tried to kill me. And then Darion locked me up because I wouldn’t apologize to her.”
His eyes turned dark. “I’m aware. And I’m sorry, I was on another scouting mission.”
Fern sniffed, looking away. “I thought you were mad at me.”
“Mad at you? Whatever for?”
“Because I… chose…”
“Oh, little Fern,” he said, hugging her closely. “I wasn’t upset with you, I was upset with my brother. Every alpha knows a Solvekh feels the strongest bond to their maker, and he took advantage of that. For what end, I cannot even say, for it seems like he isn’t interested in breed—”
He paused, like the word was difficult to say.
“Let’s just say he’s not behaving the way most alphas would if they’d decided to take an omega as their mate or Naravekh.”
Fern looked away, wondering if it was worth asking the question, knowing the answer might break her entirely. “Is it because there’s something wrong with me?”
The purr morphed into a growl. “Not a thing. Now,” his tone changed into something more official. “I think it’s time we ended your ‘self-imposed isolation.’ Wouldn’t you agree?”
His eyes widened, and he waited expectantly for her response.
“Will Darion—”
“That’s none of your concern. What I simply want to know is if you agree it’s time for you to join the clan for meals.”
Her heart raced. “Aye,” she replied with a whisper, hoping this wasn’t a trick.
“That’s what I thought. I’ll wait outside while you get dressed.”
He set her on her feet, and she wavered for a moment, dizzy from hunger and from lack of movement. Once she was steady, he gave her a quick squeeze on her shoulder and left, but the door did not lock behind him.
She rifled through her chest, finding a simple woolen gown she’d admired when Adela had first put it in there.
Fern then combed through her own hair, plaiting it into braids she wrapped at the nape of her neck.
It was enough.
Eidan was waiting alone, his eyes softening as she opened the door, nervously checking the hallway.
“He’s in the dining hall already. Come, he won’t hurt you tonight. And neither will Kyntha.”
Fern suppressed the flinch at hearing her name, then took a tentative step out. Then another.
She still had no shoes, but was more accustomed to bare feet now, anyway.
Eidan placed his large hand on the small of her back and led her to the dining hall, feeling her dread grow with each step.
“Are you sure they can’t hurt me?” she whispered.
Eidan lowered himself to whisper in her ear. “Kyntha lost much of the clan’s admiration that evening, even if she still holds Darion’s. She would not dare make another move against the Sabletail omega again.”
“At least publicly…” she murmured to herself. Fern had no doubt that despite Kyntha’s performance in front of Darion, she had as much interest in becoming Fern’s sister as she did in cleaning out the stables with her tongue.
She also didn’t hold much faith in the clan’s admiration one way or another considering how easily it swayed, omega influence or not. But it was nice to know a few more wolfkin might be willing to step between her and Kyntha if she decided to draw blood again.
The echo of her heartbeat and their footsteps was soon drowned out by a different sound.
Drums.
Fern looked up at Eidan, already answering the question in her eyes.
“Traveling musicians.”
“Is it a special occasion?”
She prayed to the gods that it wasn’t another courtship ritual for Darion and Kyntha.
“No, we have groups come in from time to time. Last year there was a theatre troupe that stayed through the winter. It was a relief at first to have some entertainment when the snows were too thick to leave the castle, but once spring thawed the ground and they left, I was glad to see the backs of them.”
He grimaced. “They only knew three plays.”
Fern burst out a laugh, startling Eidan for a moment, who then joined her as they stepped into the dining hall.
The alphas didn’t notice their arrival until they were close enough to scent them.
“Sunbeam!” Reinn exclaimed. He snapped his fingers towards a Solvekh standing near the wall. “Another chair, right by me.”
Fern sat and watched as Darion’s eyes widened at first, the surprise soon turning to anger. His muscles tensed, and the grip on his cup tightened.
Kyntha’s face scrunched like she’d just swallowed a jar of vinegar.
Alastair’s expression was more guarded, his eyebrow raising in what could either be amusement or concern. “You escort your brother’s Naravekh to the meal?”
Eidan shrugged, taking the other chair beside Fern. “I wanted to see how she was faring since I’ve been gone. Turns out, she agreed it was time to dine with the clan. So she will be here for every meal from now on.”
Darion’s face turned red, and he looked straight ahead.
“Excellent!” Karn exclaimed. “We’ve been sorely missing your company, my dear. Even before your designation was revealed, you always had such a calming effect in the Council Chambers. I’m glad the clan will get to experience it now, too.”
Kyntha choked on her ale.
Fern’s cheeks heated as she felt the attention of the Lurvekh land on her, and as Solvekh, who would have tripped her going down the stairs mere weeks ago, now added a setting for her at the head table, filling her cup with bowed heads and averted gazes.
The music was an excellent distraction for her own gaze, not knowing where it should land, and she watched the performers play a song she hadn’t heard before.
One of the musicians caught her eye almost immediately.
He was quite handsome, both she and her wolf agreed. His features were finer than most wolfkin men, the passing Solvekh women whispering behind their hands whenever he smiled at them.
A silver flute rested against his lower lip as he met her gaze. Then he winked, and her heart skipped a beat.
“You must be famished,” Reinn said, piling slices of wild boar and chunks of roasted turnips on her plate, while Eidan heaped stewed plums on top of the meat.
She took small bites, not wanting to make herself sick, and basked in the glow of company. She could make a meal of that alone, starved as she was.
“How fares your nest?” Reinn asked.
“Oh!” Fern replied, swallowing the bite of food in her mouth. “Um, it’s terrific, really.”