13. Willow
Chapter 13
Willow
G etting cleaned up in Fox’s shower doesn’t take long. The scent of his soap lingers on my skin, comforting my frayed nerves. Still, being near water makes my heart race, so I avoid the bath. Not wanting to be alone with my thoughts, I dress quickly in leather training breeches and one of Fox’s shirts, its fabric soft against my skin. I wrap a woolen shawl around my shoulders, its warmth a poor substitute for his embrace.
My wolf side perks up, nostrils flaring. My friends are still in the kitchen, but Marina’s gossip has given way to the clatter of meal preparation. The salty aroma of broth makes my mouth water. As I approach, I hear the rhythmic thud of Geraldine peeling potatoes, the scrape of Peggy’s wooden spoon against the pot, and Cricket rummaging in a sack beneath the butcher block. The mood has plummeted since I last passed by; tension hangs thick in the air.
“Hi,” I say, forcing a smile as I step into the kitchen. “Is it too late for lunch?”
Cricket’s hands collide in a sharp clap as she turns, her smile faltering as her gaze meets mine. “Not at all, love. I was just telling your friends—” Her jaw drops, eyes widening.
“Is everything okay?” The hair on the back of my neck rises, sensing the sudden shift in the room.
“I . . . ah . . .” Cricket stammers.
“Your face,” Geraldine blurts, her eyes darting between mine. “It’s . . . I mean . . .”
Fear squeezes my heart, cold and sharp. My fingers fly to my cheeks, but the curse is gone. My skin feels smooth beneath my touch, except for my left side’s faded scars.
“I broke the curse,” I mumble, suddenly feeling exposed, like a nerve stripped raw.
“A curse?”
“Titania placed it on me.” I can’t meet their eyes now. Tears prick at the corners of my vision, threatening to spill over. How can I explain the way the curse was designed to make me look as ugly as I feel? I haven’t told them what Nero made me do, that he’s the man who destroyed their world, what else I woke from the dead, the people I killed.
I still feel shame and self-loathing . . . but also a dark part of me thrills when I hold someone else’s life in my hands. I fear it’s something intrinsic and not just learned from an evil man. What if it’s me? What if I’m born with that ugliness? What if they think I’m a chip off Nero’s block? After all, what kind of person is the perfect mate to six demigods of chaos?
My new friends would turn on me if they knew the truth.
Without Fox here, it feels like I’m missing a vital piece of myself. The urge to go to him thrums beneath my skin, a constant, maddening itch.
“Sit down, poppet.” Cricket slides a stool out for me, its legs scraping against the stone floor. “Tell us what happened.”
“Yes, please do.” Marina’s worried tone draws my gaze to her painting. The mermaid’s iridescent tail slaps anxiously against her rock, creating ripples in the painted water. “Tell us what happened to dear Master Foxy-woxy.”
The sky behind her, usually a vibrant blue, is now overcast. Rain pours in gray sheets, churning the once-turquoise ocean into a tempest.
“Are you okay?” Geraldine asks me, her brow furrowed with concern.
“I don’t know,” I admit. The stool creaks as I settle onto it. Cricket places a steaming bowl of stew before me, its rich aroma a welcome distraction.
I launch into an explanation of events covering Titania’s theft of my magic, the Six’s true identity, that they’re my mates. We’re at war with Nocturna because Titania stole the Six from Oberon. She was the first in a long line of slaver queens designed to contain their chaotic powers, but they are changed after their time in Elphyne. I tell them about the Guardian teardrop and how they’ve been blessed and responsible for ensuring magic flourishes. I tell them of Fox’s sacrifice—his love. My friends’ scents shift subtly as they react to my story—fear, concern, confusion.
After I finish, I fill the stunned silence by eating, trying to eat away my guilt over leaving details of my sordid upbringing out. I’m scraping the bowl with bread when someone finally speaks.
“So Fox destroyed the House of Stone tower,” Geraldine says warily, and I nod.
“What does that mean for us?” Peggy scowls at the pot she stirs.
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“I think she means,” Max adds. “Are we in trouble?”
“Why would you be in trouble?”
“I guess,” he replies, “will we be more of a target now? Will other houses come for us by association?”
Heat rises to my cheeks. I can only imagine how fearful they’d be right now. Everything I do has consequences beyond my own safety. I shake my head. “No one knows except us.”
They all let out an uneasy exhale.
“Although . . .” I bite my lip as I recall the reason the Earl was here. “Puck seems to have gained somewhat of a political advantage.”
“So we’re fucked?” Geraldine asks.
“Fox’s bargain silences Puck from revealing the truth.”
“So we’re not fucked?” Max nervously questions.
“Correct me if I’m wrong,” Marina pipes up from her painting. “But don’t the trials make you all fucked regardless? Unless you win, of course.”
“ When they win.” Cricket throws her dishrag at Marina. It slides off the painting and falls to the floor. “A little tact wouldn’t go astray.”
“I’m sorry,” I mumble. “This kind of thing is going to keep happening. I have enemies here—the biggest enemy of all, just because of who I am to the Six. For being born, really. The danger won’t be over until . . . well, not even after the exhibition. You might survive this, but maybe it will be worse. If you want to leave, I can still activate that portal stone to Elphyne.”
The words leave a bitter taste in my mouth. Part of me—the lone wolf—wants to push them away, to shield them from the dangers that seem to stalk my every step. But another part, the one starved for genuine connection, aches at the thought of losing them.
Geraldine snatches up Cricket’s fallen dishrag and hurls it at me. It hits my chest with a soft thwap. “Stop trying to get rid of us.”
“We’ll be fine.” Max’s hand lands on my shoulder, warm and reassuring.
I cover his hand with mine. “I don’t want secrets between us.”
I wince. It’s not a lie, but I’m too cowardly to share them all.
“Not to throw water on it, milady,” Cricket interjects, her brows arching, “but do the masters know we now know their secret?”
“Um . . .” My stomach drops. “Maybe not?” Panic flashes across their faces, and I quickly add, “But don’t worry, I’ll deal with it. Legion is wearing the enchanted spectacles Fox made. He remembers we’re mates, so I should have a little sway when it comes to protecting you all.”
That appeases them, and they settle into silence as they finish the meal prep. I wash and dry my dishes before sitting and staring at them, wishing there was more I could do to keep them all safe.
“Are you all okay?” I test. “Is there anything I can do to help you feel more at home here? I help myself to everything and go wherever I want, but the same won’t work for you. It must feel foreign here and so different from your old world.”
The words tumble out. Part of me still can’t believe they want to stay, that they accept me.
I used to stumble across my mother wistfully speaking with her girlfriends about things they miss from their time. Even after twenty years, that longing hadn’t passed. My heart aches to hear the pain in their voices, especially when they speak about friends or family they’ll never see again. My gaze swings to Peggy, who lost her adult daughter. A part of me wishes that I could bring them all back, but even if I had my powers, the Well—the deities of the Cauldron do what they want. They always have. We’re just pawns in their battle for dominance.
Geraldine sighs and sits next to me. “I’d be lying if I didn’t admit there was a time we all thought it was easier to be dead than alive. But we’re fine, babe. Honestly, this is heaven compared to what we’ve been subjected to. You’ve made such a difference in our lives already.”
She pauses, her eyes growing distant. “Sometimes I wonder about my family back in Chicago. If they survived the nuclear winter or are somehow down in the Subterranean. It’s hard not knowing.”
Max nods, his voice soft. “I miss my dad’s terrible jokes and our Sunday barbecues. But being here, with all of you . . . It’s like we’ve found a new family.”
“Yeah, love.” Peggy sniffs and shrugs. “But I still miss my daughter. And the bloody corgis back home, their barking, their cuddles. Even their messes in my azaleas.” She laughs, tears in her eyes. “I think I even miss the smell of dog shit. Sounds bonkers, right? But I’m learning to appreciate the magic of this place, too.”
“Maybe,” I suggest hesitantly, “we could find a way to honor your old lives here? Could we set up a small memorial garden for Peggy or find books from your time for Max? Or ask Cricket to make those sugar cookies your mother made, Geraldine.”
She blinks. “When did I tell you that?”
Heat hits my cheeks. “When I met you.”
Their faces light up at the suggestions, and I feel like I’m finally doing something right. We might be in a strange, dangerous realm but have each other. And maybe, just maybe, that’s enough to build a new home for them.
As for my family, I’m still working up the courage to contact them. Guilt has a way of holding me back from doing what’s right, especially if it involves making an apology. I’m only beginning to understand the pain I’ve caused them. I just want to be in a good place when I talk to them, so when I reveal I’m not coming home—not yet—I don’t crumble under the weight of that guilt. If all I can give them is my happiness, then I want it to be irrefutable . . . with all of my mates by my side.
Peggy sniffs and shrugs. “I kind of feel bad for the Nevers in the tournament now.”
“You mean, since the other Nothings are dead,” Geraldine adds wryly.
I rub my eyes. “Fair point.”
“You’re right.” Peggy scrubs a hand over her short hair. “I can’t believe how callous this place is making me.”
“You’re not callous,” Geraldine points out. “It’s just hard to think about what we’ve lost sometimes because we’re in survival mode.”
Marina pipes up, waving her comb at us. “Isn’t it Yule this weekend? My Captain Rubal Jackam loved Yule. He would hoard his most favored treasures from his journeys and then give them to me at Yule.”
Geraldine’s brows pucker. “Yule. Like Christmas?”
I nod, a wistful smile touching my lips. “My mom and her friends still celebrate Christmas in Elphyne.” Sadness squeezes my heart when I realize I won’t be there with them this year. And my friends won’t be with theirs. “I’m sorry you won’t be spending this tradition with your family, those who never”—my throat clogs—“woke up with you.”
“No one blames you,” Peggy says, coming over and giving me a maternal hug I want to sink into. “We all know you’re not a bad person.”
“You say that because you know me. But if anyone else found out I’m responsible for them being here, they might not think the same way.” Before I overthink that problem, I quickly move the topic to planning gifts. “Maybe we can find something after classes. Providing the week’s training doesn’t ruin our bodies.”
We fall silent and ponder our options when Peggy pipes up. “Actually, hun, there is something you can help us with.”
“Name it,” I return.
“Well . . .” She looks at her two friends, who give her a nod of encouragement. “We want to be of more use around the castle. The weekends and nights might be boring if you’re off with your dark dreamboats. Perhaps you could give us tasks to help with the upkeep?”
“Dark dreamboats?” I flinch. “I don’t know what that means, but it sounds like something Fox will eat up and never let you forget. Please don’t call him that, or I’ll never hear the end of it.”
“He’s a scoundrel!” Marina shouts, waving her hairbrush at them. “He’ll love it!”
We have a giggle amongst ourselves. Their laughter, their easy acceptance . . . it soothes something inside. It’s nice to talk about Fox as though he’s not dead. I bask in the warm and fuzzy feelings my friends give me. They’re so different from what Alfie or any others have given me. Sadly, even Rory always erected a wall between us, no matter how much she tried to care for me. It saddens me that some people never discover this feeling, but I hope it can be waiting around the corner for anyone. They just need to step outside their comfort zone first.
“So . . .” I grin and drop my chin into my hand. “You want jobs around the castle, huh? What do you think, Cricket?”
“Thank our lucky stars the Cauldron has finally provided.” She grins back at me. “I’ve been asking the masters for a little help. Poor Finch is run ragged around the grounds. And with the rooms changing nightly, goodness, it’s a tough job keeping things pristine. We’re lucky none of the visiting gentry get to the upper levels.” At my curious look, she adds, “The Knight Commander’s study is always on the lower level. Almost as if the castle doesn’t want anyone snooping around, you know?”
“That is weird,” I muse, then tap my chin as my thoughts return to Finch needing help. Wait a minute. “Peg, didn’t you own a farm or something?”
“Close enough, hun. I bred Corgis. I’m not afraid of good, honest work.”
“Stables.” Cricket nods to herself. “Lord Bodin will need a hand there. He doesn’t like Finch helping out because my love has little experience with animals.”
“I’d love to help.” Peggy flexes her knee. “Since Lord Fox healed us, I feel like I’m twenty-five again.”
I snort at them addressing my mates as Lords. It’s weird. But then again, I’ve been mixing with elite society and royalty all my life.
Peggy mistakes my laugh. “You don’t think I should?”
“Sorry, I was thinking about something else.” I smile sheepishly. “You helping Bodin is an excellent idea. It’s not like anyone portals around here, so animals are an important mode of transport.”
“Sold.” Max smashes his fist in his hand, then points to Peggy. “Stable help to the lady with the new good legs.”
“What about us?” Geraldine asks me hopefully. “Max and I don’t have transferrable skills from our time. He’s a math teacher, and I was in retail.”
“Hmm.” I tap my lip but come up short. “Cricket?”
“Not sure, love. I can always do with extra help dusting and cleaning.”
I hold up my finger. “Also, I’ve wanted to rejuvenate the conservatory. There’s space for sparring, and it’s much warmer there than outside in the snow. Also, Peggy, do you know anything about raising bees?”
“Bees?”
Cricket and Marina both give me a sad look, but I think it’s a good idea. “Varen loves bees. Maybe he’d have something to tinker with if we make a beehive. Plus, we would have more honey.”
All he does is puzzle over his honeycomb problem. It distresses him.
Peggy nods. “My daughter and I tried our hands at raising bees when she was young—pre-corgi days, of course. I could give it a go.”
“Really?” I clasp my hands, hopefully. “There are loads of books in the library upstairs. Maybe they’ve got some information to help you. Also, maybe now that I think of it, Geraldine, you and Max can help me root around for information on the enchanted spectacles Fox made. Or even see if we can find some information about the seals or the Keepers or . . . the Baleful Hunt. There’s a lot about this world we don’t know.”
“It would be our honor.” Max gives me a valiant, sweeping bow. When he raises his head, his eyes widen at something over my shoulder, and he scrambles to stand beside Geraldine and Peggy. “Sir.”
I turn to find Bodin, his arms folded and eyes narrowed. He dismisses them and looks at me.
“Training. Now.”
I bristle at the command, but a part of me—the part starved for connection—thrills at his presence.
“Alright, you heard him,” I say to the others. “No rest for the wicked. Time for training.”
“Just you.” He stops me as I try to slide past him.
I lift my chin and look him in the eye. “If I train, they train.”
Bodin pauses, fists flexing at his sides. But I refuse to lower my gaze.
“Fine,” he says.
The smile stretching his wide lips isn’t as satisfying as I thought. It’s more like a wolf’s smile before he eats his meal.
When he leaves, Max mumbles, “Why did he look happy?”
“Because he’s a sadist,” Peggy returns.
“No,” I groan. “That’s Emrys.”
“The Knight Inquisitor?” Geraldine gapes. “Please, Lord. Don’t let it be him.”