Chapter 40 #2
As though Avice could sense his discomfort, she interjected again on his behalf, despite barely being able to keep her eyes open. “Yes, my Lady. It will be very fruitful; I am sure of that.”
Trewoofe’s heart skipped a beat, and he struggled to find the words to reply to that statement.
“Good. It is about time more Knuckers roamed Albion. After all, they bless the land and waters with their presence,” she replied primly, before beginning her perusal of the offerings.
“Did you mean that?” he blurted.
Avice looked up at him blearily. “Mean what?”
Trewoofe squeezed her waist. “About ‘being very fruitful’? Do not tease me on that matter. I do not think I could bear it.”
She frowned. “Why would I not mean it? To be clear, I am not talking about right away. This is all new, and we must be careful and gentle with each other. It will take time, and discussions, but that is something I have always wanted for myself.” Her frown deepened.
“Did you not mean it? Or was it just… words to excite us?”
Is this really a conversation you should be having in front of everyone? Bramble piped up, pulling away from Trewoofe’s pats.
“Agreed, it hardly seems appropriate,” Ashling chimed in.
Avice huffed. “You all just saw what we were doing, and they are not exactly listening right now!”
She gestured to the squabbling Knockers. Their Queen had selected an orange and red floral necklace – matching the colours on her painted wooden shoes – and now stood to the side with her Prince Consort while the rest of her flock took their pick.
“Enough!” Trewoofe snapped. “Of course, the words were true, and they were also to excite. Two things can be true at once. Let us leave it there.”
With that, the tiff ended. He suppressed the rumble in his chest at the thought of other salacious words that might bring Avice excitement. Of how he would whisper – in privacy next time – of what he would like to do to her.
He was distracted from his imaginings as she leant more heavily into him. Her head dropped, and she could barely keep her eyes open. Trewoofe clenched his jaw. How much longer was all of this going to take? Avice needed to rest.
Finally, the Knockers finished, and led by their Queen, made their way out of the garden and into the woods beyond.
Next came the Pillywiggins. The Queen – her fidgeting flock behind her – hopped forward with a squawk and bobbed her head in greeting.
Avice, trembling now, pushed herself up from his torso. “Welcome, my Lady.” For the third and final time she swept her arm over the baskets. They were a mess. Knocked over, scattered, and pilfered. “Please take an offering, and consider our bargain done.”
The Queen tapped her claw to her chin as she marched up and down the remaining floral gifts.
Avice swayed, and Trewoofe tightened his grip around her. “I can take you inside,” he whispered.
She shook her head. “Not yet, I must see it done.” She straightened up and nudged him as the Queen moved off with her prize, placing a rumpled white crown on her head. “That is the one,” she hissed.
“What is what one?” he whispered back.
Avice gestured her chin to the next Pillywiggin who stepped forwards. She was tiny and wore a purple cloak.
“She was the one who was marked.” She tapped her chest. “Here, with a leaf shape, like Boarden.”
“Ah.” Trewoofe remembered now as he studied the little daughter. “She is to be the next Pillywiggin Queen.”
“How do you know that?” Avice asked, not tearing her eyes from the diminutive Faerie.
He watched the Princess carefully. She limped and held her wings haphazardly. His anger flared at the thought that some Folk – a clan not under his influence – had deliberately harmed one so young and marked her. Why? As far as he knew, one type of Faerie could not be changed to another.
Avice tugged on his tunic. “Lord?”
“Oh.” He smiled down at her. “Yes?”
She giggled. “How do you know she is the next Queen?”
Trewoofe shrugged. “Sidhe King intuition. I do not know how to explain it, some things I can just sense.”
She yawned before replying. “I understand. I have that too. Some things I just… know.”
He beamed down at her before turning his attention back to the flock.
The Princess had selected a floral bracelet he made but wore it as crown instead of on her wrist. The Queen dipped her head at her daughter as she limped over, reaching out to hold her hand.
With that, she let out a caw, and the flock descended.
Trewoofe recoiled from the chaos, and Bramble jerked back from his hand.
Even Ashling – usually so composed – let out a peal of alarm.
Within moments, every single remaining offering had been claimed.
He observed the debris: baskets had been tossed everywhere, handles shredded, and petals squashed into the earth.
“Alright,” Avice yawned. “It is done.” She smiled up at him, eyelids drooping. “We did it.”
He nodded, admiring his little witch. The ash had streaked down her cheeks from her sweat, petals and magic dust stuck to her skin, and her shift was streaked with grass stains.
“We did,” he purred.
She swayed again, and he caught her, sweeping her up into his arms. Avice relaxed into him; her temple rested against his steady heart. Trewoofe led the way inside, Bramble on his heels, and Ashling flitting ahead to nestle in the hearth.
“…’m sorry,” she mumbled against his tunic.
“You have no reason to be,” he replied, placing a kiss to the top of her head.
Trewoofe laid her on the pallet and ambled over to the table to fetch water and a cloth.
Bramble snuffled at his mistress. Do you think she will be alright? he asked, eyes shining with concern.
“Yes,” he replied. “She is just worn out. I did not know that magic was so exhausting and dangerous for witches.”
The Grim pinned his ears back. All my witches have given so much over the turns of seasons. Too much.
Trewoofe hunched and shuffled back over with a bowl of water and cloth in tow. He scratched Bramble’s head, sensing he needed some comfort at that moment. The hound closed his eyes and sighed. The King knelt beside the pallet, dipped the cloth into the bowl, and rang out the excess.
“I will look after her.” Trewoofe nodded towards the Grim’s favourite spot by the hearth. “Go and rest; it has been a long night.”
Bramble weakly wagged his tail, padded over and settled by the fire. And you, Lord?
“I will sleep, soon,” he promised.
With that, Trewoofe set to wiping Avice’s face, removing the ashes, pollen, and shimmering magic from her flushed skin.
He moved onto her arms and legs. He considered removing her shift to clean her further but knew it would not be correct to do so without asking her.
As she had said, their courtship was new, and they had to have many discussions on how it would all work.
Once he was satisfied that she was as clean as he could make her, Trewoofe gathered the surviving baskets from outside and stacked them by the door. He washed himself as exhaustion began to seep into his limbs. For the first time in days, the three remaining stitches on his belly niggled at him.
“What do you expect after a courtship dance?” he murmured to himself as he slipped in under the bedding, pulling Avice to his chest.