Chapter 31
Avice
Avice let out a shuddering breath after Trewoofe fled the cottage.
She tried to cool her boiling skin by scrubbing it with a cloth and melting snow.
It made her prickle but did not cool the flames at her core.
She bit her lip and squeezed her thighs together as the ghost of Trewoofe’s tongue circled her belly.
You two, Bramble huffed, are behaving like lovesick pups.
She shot her familiar a scowl across the cottage. He pinned his ears back and looked away.
“I like him, Bramble,” she sighed, kicking off her dress, chemise, and stockings, continuing to scrub herself. “I cannot help the way I feel.”
Avice tossed the rag over her shoulder and fiddled with the tie of her breast band. Releasing herself, she wiped away the remaining grime. She touched her pendant, unable to restrain her grin at the thought of the King on his knees before her.
I know. It is not… completely intolerable, that you two have a fondness for one another.
That was as good as an approval she would ever get from her familiar.
Ashling chimed in agreement.
Avice chuckled. She stepped over to her coffer, pulled out a fresh chemise and stockings, and dressed herself.
The heat from Trewoofe’s touch and tongue had chased the cold away from her bones, and she hummed contently as she reached for her jar of moisturising lard to apply to her chapped scars.
She rubbed it in, before finally releasing her hair from its braided bun.
Just as she reached for her comb, a crack shook the ground beneath her.
In shock, she steadied herself against the wall.
“Trewoofe!”
Had the ward collapsed? Was he under a mountain of snow?
Avice dashed to the door and threw it open. Blind with worry, she stepped out and slammed into him with a teeth-rattling thump.
“Ooof.”
She patted his torso, checking him for injuries.
“Lord, are you well? What happened? I heard—”
“I knocked over a tree,” he blurted. “Accidentally.”
She frowned up at him. “How did you—”
“I also broke another stitch.” He tapped his lower belly. “That is three now.”
Avice rolled her eyes and pointed to the pallet. “Go and sit, I will check your wounds.”
He scanned her. “You have washed and changed.”
“Yes.” She gestured again. “Pallet.”
A line appeared between his eyebrows. “I would like you to rest and eat before you do anything else.”
She dug in her heels. “I cannot do that until I know your wounds are fine.”
They were at an impasse.
Avice stared Trewoofe down until he finally glanced away and slunk over to the pallet. She noticed how he hunched himself over so he could move through the room. The cottage was far too small for him, and Avice knew he would not be comfortable in her home for the long term.
The thought of him leaving made her chest hurt, and to help ease the melancholy that threatened to bubble over, she grabbed her medical satchel and busied herself with the task at hand.
Obediently, Trewoofe sat on the bedding. Ashling floated up from the flames and hovered by his chest. At the same time, Bramble ambled over to the Well King’s side of the pallet, offering his head for a pat.
Avice smiled at the trio. She made her way over and gestured for Trewoofe to hold his arms up so she could pull his shirt off. She now understood why he had cut the neck of his tunic wide, so it would just about squeeze over his horns. She flapped the garment and folded it neatly to the side.
“Very well made,” she complimented as she began to unwind the bandages from his middle and arms.
“Thank you,” he rumbled, his lips plucked upwards.
“I brought more cloth. I may have to put you to work,” Avice teased.
His face brightened. “I would love to! Perhaps I could make you something? Knucker’s like to give gifts to their…” He trailed off, and Avice arched an eyebrow at him. “Knuckers like to give gifts,” he stated.
She nodded and unwound the final wrap. The crystals dropped to the bedding with soft thumps, each singing after they fell. She rolled up a blanket and helped him lay down on his back. She tucked it beneath the arch of his neck to ease the awkward angle caused by his horns.
Avice was pleasantly surprised as she knelt beside him.
Except for the three sutures that had snapped towards the bottom of a wound, he was healing magnificently.
She fiddled with the broken threads, tugging them free of the wound and tossing them aside.
Small drops of silver blood oozed sluggishly from the miniscule holes, and she pressed them with the edge of a bandage until they stopped.
“This is more my fault than yours.” She bit her lip. “This was one of the last parts I stitched. I was exhausted and getting lax with my technique. I am sorry, Lord.”
He caught her elbow as she turned away from him to rifle through her medical satchel, pulling out her needle and thread. “You have nothing to apologise for. You saved me, Avice. Twice. At much risk to yourself.”
Trewoofe’s words warmed her. She squeezed his wrist before gently extracting herself from his grip. His fingers dropped to her thick thigh. He gripped lightly through her chemise as she pulled out a needle and thread.
Avice had slept in his arms. Trewoofe had licked her belly. She craved more of his lingering touches and did not want to remove his hand.
She smiled at him. “Stone still. Just like before.”
“Of course.”
He was as good as gold again, only the skin where she repaired twitched, and that was a mere reflex.
“If only all my patients were as well-behaved as you.” She smiled at him. “I think, as you are healing so well, we should continue the treatment plan. I will rewrap your torso and arms, with the crystals against your wounds.”
Trewoofe nodded in agreement.
Avice reached into her satchel again. She tutted at the mess in there and made a mental note to tidy and organise it when she had the chance. She pulled out a bottle of healing waters and cloth, and dabbed lightly around the newly sewn area, wiping away the smears of silver blood.
Bramble sniffed the air. No more iron. I believe you will recover quickly now, Lord.
“Agreed.” Trewoofe grunted as he sat up, removing his hand from Avice’s knee and grazing his claws at the top of his old scar. “Thanks to you three.”
The Grim wagged his tail and Ashling chimed. He floated up and perched on one of his horns.
Avice went back to fumble through her satchel and found no bandages. She stood, stepped over Trewoofe’s long legs and off the pallet. She opened and rifled through the coffer she kept her medical supplies in.
“God’s blood,” she hissed.
“What is it?” Trewoofe asked.
She turned to him, hand on her pendant. “I am out of bandages.”
Trewoofe pointed to the pile of silver-stained linen she had discarded by the bed. “Can we not just reuse those?”
Avice shook her head. “They need to be clean…”
Her eyes drifted over to the bolt of purple cloth she had abandoned by the door.
She made her way to it and stooped down to press the material to her face.
It was soft and, most importantly, it did not smell of iron or oil.
She felt a prick of regret at the thought of cutting it up for bandages, as she had hoped to make some clothes from it.
Avice fetched her scissors from the table, and with careful snips, sliced even strips through the buttery soft purple.
“Little witch…” Trewoofe shifted around on the pallet so he was facing her. “Are you sure? We were going to use that for other things.”
“I am sure.” She nodded. “I ran out of bandages treating my other patient earlier today. Your health is more important than a pretty dress or tunic. The bandages help stem any bleeding from your wounds. It also means you will not bleed all over our pallet,” she teased.
Trewoofe’s lip quirked. “You said you would tell me later, so what happened today? What was so serious that you went out in a storm like this?”
Avice, about halfway through the cloth, guessed she had cut enough.
“The storm did not pick up until near the end of his treatment; it was freezing when I left though.” She gathered up the strips and made her way back over to the pallet.
“I still do not quite believe it myself, but a fisherman was attacked by a Morgowr. It nearly bit his arm off.”
Trewoofe lifted his arms as she knelt beside him and began to wrap him. “I am certainly not an expert on them, but I have never heard of a Morgowr attacking humans before.”
“Neither have I.” Avice reached for the crystals that had dropped to the bedding and slipped them underneath the first layer.
“What did you end up doing for his treatment?” he asked.
“I had to amputate.” She reached for more cloth. “The arm was already dead.”
Trewoofe wriggled as she tied off a knot near his armpit. “That is wise. I have seen dead limbs on Faeries take the rest of the body with them in the past.”
Avice stood to fetch the dried calendula flowers, planning to weave them into each layer again.
“I had a fight with John on the way home. The men were rude to me during my treatment of the fisherman and then tried to get me to stay in the village despite the incoming storm. Besides you three, John was the person I was closest too, but he did not defend me from their cruelty.”
The Well King flashed his fangs. “Who would be cruel to you?!”
“The Moot, Father…” Avice shook her head.
“Anyway, John was escorting me home on a horse when I had the realisation that – despite the storm – I did not want to be anywhere near him.” She tucked the flowers into the cloth, and she got him to drop his arms so she could bandage them next.
“So, I got off the horse and walked the rest of the way. That is when we found—”
A Pillywiggin! Bramble interrupted, popping his head up. A pup. She had been marked, Lord, like the human pups had been. Is that not odd?
Ashling chimed, and Trewoofe nodded along to the tune.
“I have never heard of it either,” Trewoofe mused. “As far as I know, one Faerie cannot be changed into another one. Whichever Folk is doing this is very confused.” He dropped his arms as Avice sat back to admire her handiwork. “How do I look?”
“Good!” she exclaimed. “Your colour is better, and your wounds are much improved. I will change the bandages again in three or so days should you need to it, once I have had a chance to wash these.” She gestured to the discarded silver-stained linens by the pallet. “How do they feel? Not too tight?”
Trewoofe patted himself. “Perfectly comfortable.”
Avice grinned at him, delighted that he was truly on the mend. Though, she could not help the sadness dogging her at the thought that he would return to his Kingdom once he had recovered.
That does not mean you will not see him.
She smiled as she remembered their picnic on his hill. The memory of honey cakes and tea making her stomach growl.
Bramble popped his head up. Are you hungry Avice?
She nodded. “Starved, let me get something together for us.”