Chapter 62
Avice
Led by Olwilla, they left the pavilion, with Bramble limping just behind them. When Trewoofe had offered to carry him to the central fire pit, the Grim had given him such a look that the King snapped his mouth shut.
Once they were settled by the welcoming fire, piled wooden plates of roasted boar and apple were placed in Avice and Trewoofe’s hands.
It smelt delicious, and her mouth watered at the perfectly cooked offerings.
There was no cutlery, and she smiled at the memory of Trewoofe struggling with his spoon.
She wondered if the Wulver had similar issues with utensils and that is why there were none.
Using her fingers, she popped some tender meat into her mouth.
She savoured the smoky flavour as it melted on her tongue.
Something about the support of her little family, the kindness of the Wulver, and the delicious plate of food offered, had her emotions finally bubble over. Avice dropped her chin to her chest as silent tears poured down her face, soaking her dress front.
Trewoofe missed nothing.
He put down his plate and wrapped his arm around her shaking shoulders.
He lowered his lips to her ear. “Are you well, little witch?”
Avice sniffled and shook her head. “No. They tried to kill me. If not for you, they would have.”
Trewoofe emitted a low growl. “And they will die for it. I will sweep them all from Albion.”
“You cannot!” Avice exclaimed. She felt the eyes of the ten or so feasting Wulver on her and lowered her voice. “You cannot. So many of them tried to stop the Moot and their guards: Joan, Catherine, Matilda… Many women protested my treatment.”
He let out a huff. “You already know that I cannot say no to you. So, if you wish for me to hold back my rage, then I will.” He ground his fangs. “I will not lie, Avice. I killed many men that day, they stood in my way and would not move.”
She squeezed her eyes shut, willing the flowing tears to ebb. Avice was glad they were dead. Yet, guilt gnawed at her. Why should she feel guilty? They tried to make her admit to crimes that were not even crimes. Who had she harmed? No one. They wanted to kill her and did not deserve her remorse.
“I am both sorry and not sorry they are dead,” she whispered. “These feelings swirl within me like the wind blowing the leaves. If the Moot are gone… things could be different for the women above.”
“I did it to keep you safe,” Trewoofe said gently. “Like I took the Tall One’s life, I took their lives. If you asked me to march upon the village and sweep it from the land, I would. You asked me to stay my fury, and I will.”
Avice brushed her tears away. “You would do that for me?”
“I would do anything for you.” He kissed her temple. “If you asked me to fetch the Moon, I would reach up into the night sky, pluck her from it, and give it to you wrapped in ribbon.”
Bramble finished gnawing on his bone and plonked his head in her lap. You should not feel guilty they are dead. You have done nothing but serve the people of Lamorna, but they would end your life for simply being a witch.
“Agreed.” Ashling flared red as he perched on Trewoofe’s horn and spoke more viciously than Avice had ever heard from him before. “If I were a younger Wisp, I would burn down the gallows and the church. That Cross God has been nothing but trouble since his followers arrived.”
Avice put down her plate and ran her fingers over her pendant. “The church…”
Something, in the shadow of her memory, niggled at her.
Trewoofe squeezed her shoulder. “Little witch, are you—”
“Shush, Lord. Just let me think for a moment,” Avice whispered. “I am trying to recall something while I was in the cage. The magic, the vines…”
She closed her eyes, her mind turning like a spinning wheel. She recalled that her magic had dived down into the earth to will the vines to save John and herself. She had used her voice, but it was not just her voice.
It was another’s as well.
The same voice that had buzzed inside the church. She could understand it better now. The voice had been calling for her aid and helping her while she bled out in the cage.
Avice opened her eyes and looked up at Trewoofe. “What time is it above?”
A line appeared between his brows. “It is halfway between Sunset and Sunrise. Why do you ask?”
She clenched her pendant. Whoever was calling for her help, would get it in the morning. She owed the voice that much. Without their aid, John would have died, and she may well have bled out.
“You will be cross with me,” Avice warned.
“I already promised myself I would not be cross with you again,” Trewoofe said. “Why are you worried you will anger me?”
She took a deep breath. “When the Sun is up, I need you to take me to Lamorna.”
Avice watched as his eye twitched, and jaw clenched at the same time. Trewoofe said nothing, but Bramble was not feeling as gracious.
Nature’s blessing, Avice! Why would you want to go back?
“Because… I think there is a Faerie trapped inside the church. They helped me, they added their magic to my own, so I could summon the vines. They have been calling for my help, at least since Trewoofe and the Underneath were poisoned. It took me this long to understand them, to hear their words.” She paused to sip some healing waters from her cup. “I cannot abandon them now.”
Trewoofe let out a heavy sigh. “If you wish it, I will take you to the church.”
“Lord!” Ashling protested. “Bramble cannot travel that far yet, and my magic has been drained.”
“You do not have to come,” Avice interjected. “I must go to them, but I will not risk you two.”
Can it not wait? Bramble whined, looking up at her with sorrowful eyes.
She traced the cuts on his muzzle with her fingertips. “My darling…” She scratched behind his ears. “It cannot, they have already been waiting long enough. I just think, what if it was me who was trapped inside that infernal place? What if I had been screaming for help and no one came for me?”
“Boys,” Trewoofe interjected. “I will make sure she is safe.”
“She is right here,” Avice grumbled. She snatched up her plate, and Bramble removed his head from her knee with a huff. “I am not helpless. Nor I am a damsel. I fought the men, I killed one, I summoned the vines, I saved John…” She paused, in the chaos, she had forgotten. “Is John still alive?”
Trewoofe nodded. “The Morgowr King came for him.”
Her eyes widened. “You did not—”
“I did not kill him,” Trewoofe chuckled. “The need to save you outweighed my instincts to slay him.”
Avice stuffed a large piece of meat in her mouth. She chewed slowly. She did not know what would happen when they went above, but she felt in her gut it was the right course of action. There was one thing she wished to do first.
She ran her gaze over Trewoofe’s profile: tall, slim, with sharp features. He truly was perfect for her. She suppressed the urge to lick her lips. Trewoofe met her eyes, and she gave him a sultry look through her eyelashes. His lip twitched in response, and he returned a flirtatious smile.
“I have a gift for you,” Avice announced.
She balanced her half-eaten plate on her lap and rifled through her medical satchel.
Avice was sure she had stuffed the amulet inside before the men had taken her.
She grinned as she felt the smooth shells and drew it out from the bag.
She had not expected to see tears lining Trewoofe’s eyes as she presented it to him.
“You do not like it?” Avice asked.
“The opposite,” he murmured. “I love it.”
As though it were a holy object, he gently took the shell amulet from her. His claws brushed against her palm, and her skin sung from the delicate contact.
“It is for your horn,” she clarified.
He smiled softly down at the gift in his hand. “I like the idea, little witch. However, when I grow, will it not break?”
She shook her head. “I asked the vine the shells are threaded on if they could grow and shrink with your size. It is the first time I have done such a thing, but I think it will work.”
A line appeared between his brows. “You can do that?”
“I think so,” she replied. Avice put her plate to the side, took the charm from him, and stood. “May I?” she asked, gesturing to his horn.
He beamed up at her. “Please.”
Ashling flitted off Trewoofe’s horn as she fiddled at the base of it. Her Knucker emitted a low purr as her fingers brushed against his hair and scalp. Avice knew he was very sensitive around his throat, horns bases, and scalp… She would put that knowledge to good use later.
Avice leant back to admire her handiwork. The pink and purple shells complemented his silver hair, and she knew they would match the arousal colours he would show later.
“Handsome,” she commented, running her fingertips along his scalp. “Perfect.”
Trewoofe let out a deeper purr. Avice took her hand away before he got too excited. She cleared her throat, took her seat again, and collected her plate. She polished off her food and silenced her growling stomach.
Her Knucker wolfed down his serving before running his eyes over her greedily. “Little witch, shall we—”
“My Lady?” a Wulver interrupted.
Avice met her blue eyes. She was a pretty Good Neighbour: stocky and plump, with a warm demeanour. In her forepaws, she carried something large and rectangular, wrapped in aging leather.
“Please, call me Avice,” she insisted, unable to tear her eyes from what the Wulver held.
The Wulver dipped her head in agreement, before sliding her gaze to Trewoofe. “The Well King mentioned you may have interest in seeing our books?”
Avice’s heart skipped a beat. “I would love to!”
She handed over the book. “I have been teaching the younglings. If you would like to learn to read and write, you are welcome to join in on their lessons.”