Chapter 29
Avice
Avice! Bramble barked. Do not let a lover’s quarrel distract you from the fact there is a snowstorm, and we are to prepare.
Her cheeks burnt as she stopped at the open doorway. In all the excitement, she had forgotten. “I knew that, Bramble!” she snapped back. “I was fetching some cauldrons to gather snow for water.”
Is that so? he sniped, before darting back out of the garden for what Avice guessed was more kindling.
Her face met Trewoofe’s, who was equally flushed. “May I help?”
She studied his long frame. “You have clothes,” she stated.
They were carefully stitched, the needle work better than her own.
Her eyes widened as she realised that the long-sleeved tunic he wore was made from her ruined cloak, the one she wore in the Underneath.
The rips from the Tall One’s claws had been carefully repaired, so well done she could barely see the mend.
On his legs were hose – she suspected made from one of her chemises – a strap under each arch of his foot holding the garment in place.
He wore no stockings; his feet bare on the frost.
“I do!” He grinned. “Ashling taught me how to make them.”
The Wisp floated over and landed on his horn with a merry chime.
Avice clenched her jaw. “You understand him that well?”
Trewoofe nodded and paused while Ashling pealed in different tones. “He says: ‘the more you grow into your power, the better you will hear his words. Not long from now you will be able to understand all the Good Neighbours as well as you understand the Lord.’”
Avice tried to squash down the envy she felt that Trewoofe could understand her Wisp so well. Ashling had been in the cottage for many generations of Gardener women, and she longed to hear his voice for what it really was.
Trewoofe is a Good Neighbour too, of course he would understand Ashling better than I. She tried to shake her jealousy and smiled up at them. “I am happy that Ashling could help you. He has seen much over his turns of seasons in the cottage and probably knows more about being a human than me.”
“We hoped to ease your burdens. You have done so much for me, and I had no desire to add to your workload with my need for clothes. Ashling said you would find my lack of them distracting so I—”
Heat rose in Avice, and she let out a splutter. “Cauldrons!”
Trewoofe tilted his head. “Cauldrons?”
She nodded. “Yes, to gather snow for water. Though…” – she stepped out from eaves of her cottage and squinted up – “perhaps your magic means that the storm will not touch us? The snow seems to be piling on top.”
Trewoofe followed her and studied his ward. “Winter is angry,” he stated. “She is furious that Spring has not taken over, and that she continues to labour. This storm is like one of my daughter’s having a tantrum.”
Avice jolted at that. “You have daughters?”
“I had daughters,” Trewoofe clarified. Avice opened her mouth to ask a flurry of questions, but he gestured for her to stop. “I will tell you the story soon. I promise. It is just… painful for me.”
She snapped it closed, sensing a change of subject was due. “Do we need to worry about Winter’s tantrum reaching us through your magic?”
He met her face, expression solemn. “Yes.” He patted his chest. “As strong as a Knucker’s magic is, it cannot withstand the seasons forever.”
She frowned. “Your hill though? It is Spring there all the time.”
Trewoofe tapped his chin. “Yes, it is. But that is not just my magic. That is woven from the enchantment of all the Sidhe Kings before me, and the ancient power from the Underneath.”
“Sid-hey?” she rolled the word in her mouth. It sent a skitter of intrigue through her. “What is a Sid-hey?”
Trewoofe chuckled. “Try again, it is pronounced Shee.”
“Shee,” Avice repeated, drawing out the sound.
His lips plucked upwards. “There you have it.” He nodded. “To answer your question, a Sidhe is the border of an Otherworld. The Underneath is an Otherworld.”
Avice brightened at this new information. “There is more than one place like the Underneath?”
Trewoofe grinned. “Of course, there are many, and each has a Sidhe King. A guardian that protects it and the Faeries who dwell there.”
She was practically bouncing on her feet. “What are the other Sidhe like? Have you met other Kings?”
He began to growl but caught it in his throat.
“Kings are territorial. If two should meet, there would be a fight. I have never left my territory to meet another Sidhe King or to visit a different Otherworld. Though, in the past, I have snarled at the huge Morgowr who stalks the coast when he gets too close to the beach. Seeing him makes my blood boil, so he could be a Sidhe King.”
“I have something to tell you about a Morgowr!” she exclaimed.
Trewoofe arched an eyebrow. “What about it?”
Just as she was about to explain, Ashling flitted down from Trewoofe’s horn and floated in front of her chilled face.
He let out a peal.
“Yes, yes. You are right. Snow. Food.” She grinned at the Wisp. “I got distracted. You know how I love to share information and learn new things.” She smiled up at Trewoofe. “I will tell you about it later, for now, I must prepare for the storm.”
“May I help?” Trewoofe asked again.
She eyed his bare feet. “You will catch your death. Can I convince you to put stockings on?”
Trewoofe scrunched his face. “I do not like them. They make me feel like my skin is in a cage.”
“Ah…” Avice instantly understood, that was just how she felt when she wore her head covering. “Well, you can help. But if you get too cold, or your wounds hurt, you must go back inside.”
He gave her a dazzling smile. “I will.”
Avice beamed back up at him. That little bolt of lightning crackled between them again as their eyes lingered on each other for a fraction longer than necessary. She ducked back into the cottage and fetched two copper cauldrons, handing one to him.
She led the way down the garden path, and they stepped out of the stone circle. The howling wind immediately billowed her cloak. She squinted against the blizzard, the force of it pulling frozen tears from her eyes. Together they scooped the knee-deep drifts, filling each to the brim with the snow.
They retreated behind the ward and were gifted with an immediate reprieve from the storm. Trewoofe offered his hand, and Avice gave him the cauldron she carried. In his grip, it looked more like a children’s toy rather than a large cooking pot.
She wiped the snow from her face. “Thank you, Lord. But please do not tear a stitch. If it starts to hurt, you must stop.”
“I know, little witch. I said I will, did I not?” Trewoofe huffed. “Please do not fuss too much.”
Avice scoffed as they made their way back up the garden path. “My fussing saved you, remember?”
He grinned, the sight of his fangs sending little pricks of heat through her. “Of course I remember, and for that I will be forever in your debt. Just let me know how I can repay you and I will begin immediately.”
His gaze swept her body, before lingering on her face. Avice blushed, and looked away, mumbling something about getting on with the tasks at hand. A low chortle left Trewoofe as she stepped into the cottage.
Bramble was panting heavily by the dying fire; a mountain of sticks piled beside the stone hearth. That should be enough.
“Good boy!” Avice exclaimed, darting towards her Grim.
She swept down to scratch his head and neck.
He dropped to the floor and showed his belly.
She rubbed her palms in a circular motion all over him, and the hound let out a blissful sigh.
Avice laughed as Bramble wriggled on his back, his massive paws twitching in the air.
She kept one hand on his belly and reached to toss the icy kindling into the hearth.
“Ashling!” she called, her breath misting in the frigid air. “Let us get this cottage warm. I foolishly left the door open when we retrieved the snow.”
The Wisp – who was perched on Trewoofe’s horn – chirped and flitted over, diving into the fuel.
Within a blink, a fire had erupted, the little cracks and pops resonated through the cottage as the wood dried.
She placed her second hand back to the Grim’s belly and scratched vigorously.
His wagging tail picked up its happy tempo.
She grinned up at Trewoofe, who had placed the snow-filled cauldrons on the table. “We have a final task: I need to fetch some food from the cellar.”
He wrinkled his nose. “Pickles?”
Avice snorted. “Not just pickles, I have other food down there.”
She rose with a grimace, her joints frozen and muscles tender.
She wondered whether it was wrong to be grateful for Winter’s tantrum.
She had an excuse to stay home, rest, and recover.
This past week or so had been harder on her then she cared to admit, and the idea of luxuriating on her pallet surrounded by her little family was immensely appealing.
The word echoed in her head. Family.
“What other food? Sweet things?” Trewoofe asked, stepping towards her.
“Perhaps there is,” she teased, moving to him.
Bramble heaved himself up from the floor with a huff. I will come.
Avice held up her hand. “Trewoofe can aid me, you have already done so much.”
The Grim flattened his ears. It is my duty to help you. You are my witch.
She chuckled at his grouchiness. “You have helped me. More times than I could ever count. I do have a task for you over the next few days, if the blizzard does not slow.”
He wagged his tail. Yes?
“Keep track of the days. It is so dark. I cannot follow the cycle of day and night in a storm like this.”
Bramble was adept at knowing when night had fallen, even when he could not see it. He was a hound of the shadows after all.
That is all you need from me?
“Not all. I need to know how far Equinox is, and be ready for it when the day comes,” she explained.
Bramble cocked his head. You will dance even when Winter remains? Normally, Spring has begun when you do the ritual and you merely bless it with fertility.
Avice studied the garden through the still open cottage door.
She recalled the Pillywiggin flock, near-starving with their injured daughter.
How many other Faeries may go hungry because Spring had not come?
What if the snow piled so heavily on the homes of the villagers that they collapsed under the weight?
“I must.”
The Grim padded towards the door. Avice I am coming with—
He froze when Trewoofe reached down to scratch his head with the tip of his claws. “Little familiar, I will look after her out there. You have done much; look at all the sticks you have gathered for the fire.”
Avice warmed at their exchange, and part of her curled with delight at the thought she might steal a moment alone with the King.
Fine. Bramble sauntered back over to the hearth and curled up in front of the roaring fire. Close the door on your way out.