Chapter 34
A Contract
Tonight, of all nights, I dream of Mavick.
“Who would you be, if you could be another?” they asked over pluckroot tea on one of our many visits.
“I don’t know… I’ve read about explorers. Adventurers. Perhaps it would be fun to chart a new world,” I said.
My voice sounds childlike, younger—this memory not long after Mother died. Mavick is extra pink in this dreamscape. Their cluttered trinkets twinkle in the flicker from the fire, as though everything is coated in liquid. As if the illusion is composed of melting candle wax.
“Would you look back?” they asked. Their voice sounds odd and flat, devoid of its usual screech.
“Doubtful,” I admitted. “What is there to look back at? I have no friends here—other than you, of course. Father will survive without me. He’ll rule until someone else… until someone more worthy comes along.”
Dream Mavick goes soft around the edges, deflating somewhat. “I know you are worthy.”
Perhaps it’s how many years have passed since this memory, perhaps it’s only in my head, but I note the conviction in Mavick’s voice. The truth. Warmth floods my chest.
“You are unyielding—”
That word. Yield. Is it paranoia that has brought this memory to my dreams?
“Obstinacy is power. If you nurture it.”
My head shakes against my will—dream me, shaking off Mavick’s nonsense words at the time. But now… now.
Mavick smiled at me sadly, baring those sharpened teeth.
There’s a fine line between empathy and condescension, and Mavick would toe it often.
But maybe I misunderstood them. Maybe it wasn’t condescension at all, but disappointment.
Disappointment that I could not see what they saw in me.
Their stacked eyes take on that same, shiny candle wax effect as the rest of the room.
My young, faceless figure is multiplied endlessly in them, as though they are an infinite pool.
When they start dripping—no, oozing—gold faerie blood, I wake in a panic.
That soft violet-orange ombre bleeds into the room from the glass ceiling above. My current reality is being very naked, very sweaty, and very tangled in Brynn’s sheets. He stirs at my outburst.
“Thea?” he mumbles, voice thick with sleep. He pushes up onto one elbow, stretching his other arm over me reflexively. “Are you all right?”
“Just—a dream,” I breathe, allowing him to pull me back down to the pillows. He pushes a strand of loose hair back from my brow. “Really, I’m good.”
Brynn considers me as though he does not believe me, but he bites his tongue.
His arm wraps tighter around me instead as he presses a kiss to my forehead.
Something tells me his patience for me could be boundless, if I allowed it.
If I never told him the truth. If I simply left my old life behind, as I told Mavick in my memory.
But could I live with myself?
I tuck my face into the crook of his neck. I am peppering his collarbone with greedy kisses, and hating myself in spite of it, when a loud knock sounds.
“Godsdamnit,” Brynn groans. He releases me and I sigh at his perfect backside as he stands to slip on a pair of pants.
Glo does not wait before barging in. I hear her jovial bark of a laugh when she takes in the sight of our abandoned clothes strewn about the main living area.
“I’m covering my eyes!” comes her voice from near the door to Brynn’s bedroom.
She kicks it open unceremoniously. Despite her declaration, I still find myself wrapping the sheets around my naked body.
She appears in the doorframe. Sure enough, both hands are plastered over her eyes, but they do not hide her massive grin.
“Glo,” Brynn growls, “you could learn a lesson in boundaries.”
“What are boundaries when you’re Bloodtied?” asks Glo.
Brynn releases a heavy sigh.
“And you could learn a lesson in gratitude, Vir—I covered for your ass last night. So that you two could bang it out, I guess—which, about time, honestly—”
“Good morning, Glo,” I say. Brynn’s face flushes.
“I’m assuming you’ll need something to wear, Thea?” Glo teases, dipping her chin toward the sound of my voice.
“Yes—is Jasmeen all right?”
“Oh, she’s great!” Glo says too loudly, as though we cannot hear her because she cannot see us. “I was able to gain her counsel with old Frigo. Afterwards, she talked my ear off about her research—what it could mean—into the early morning hours…”
Brynn and I say nothing, waiting for her to continue.
“You know, I can’t see if you’re paying attention so a laugh or some sort of acknowledgement would be ideal.”
I laugh in earnest. Brynn groans in frustration.
“Great—and I was rewarded. With a kiss,” Glo says, unable to contain herself. A soft, girlish ooh escapes me.
“Congratulations,” Brynn says with a miffed snort. “So why are you interrupting us when you could be off kissing Jas?”
“What? Did you not finish already? It’s been hours, Vir,” Glo jests with a grin. I snort.
“Glo,” Brynn growls. “Not funny.”
“Thea thinks I’m funny—don’t you, Thea? You finished, right? I’ve given Vir lots of pointers on how to please a lady, but if I’m not around to play witness I can’t perfect his form—”
I giggle and Brynn lobs a pillow, hard, at Glo’s head. Despite not being able to see, she dodges it with catlike reflexes.
“Anyway—I’m interrupting because despite my great news, I have even better news for you,” Glo says, pausing as she turns an ear toward us.
Brynn gives an impatient sound of attentiveness, and she continues, “Your father left the party early as well. I was able to beg forgiveness from Queen Larnie in private—she agreed to pardon me. She gave me express permission to conjure a passageway—she’s given us approval to bypass the Gatekeeper altogether! ”
“How in the seven hells did you manage that?” Brynn asks, his shock outweighing his annoyance.
Glo shrugs. “I think you forget how likable I am sometimes.”
Brynn recognizes the lost look on my face and explains, “Glo had her passageway magics suspended when she created that unsanctioned passageway in the middle of my apartment. If Larnie has given Glo permission to conjure them again—that means instead of ending up in the middle of nowhere, wherever the Royal City Gatekeeper’s passageway resides in your realm, we can go straight to Castle Gale and your father. ”
This is great news. Yet, my pulse quickens and my stomach lurches.
“Glo, you are right. Very likable. In fact, you are amazing and I like you very much,” I jest, pushing down the anxiety. I know my speedy heartbeat has not gone unnoticed, thanks to the crease now forming between Brynn’s brows.
Glo smiles, “See, Vir, at least Thea’s grateful.”
“I am very grateful,” Brynn says, gaze still locked on me. “Now, will you leave so that we can get dressed?”
Glo smirks as she blindly backs out of the room with a mock bow.
There is no time to wash. As promised, Glo returns a few minutes later with fresh clothing for me and something wrapped in cloth.
I unwrap the cloth first to reveal a tiny glass bottle with a handwritten tag that reads: contraceptive tonic (in case he did finish).
I smirk, shaking my head at Glo’s gall, and take the tonic like a shot.
It has less of a bite than what Alma used to give me.
I slip into the simple tunic, comfortable riding pants, and new, clean boots.
I contemplate the stares I will no doubt receive at Castle Gale in such plain clothing and smirk to myself.
Brynn sits on the edge of the bed, fingers tapping away on his knees.
He watches me dress, wearing a peculiar look of bemusement.
Once clothed, I begin to tug at my braid violently in an effort to tame the mess.
“May I?”
I nod. Brynn stands and deftly unravels the braid, running his long fingers through the tangles with heartbreaking care.
When it’s smoothed out, he wraps his arms around me from behind and kisses my temple.
My eyes squeeze shut, and I relish the sweetness.
Deep inside me, I know that this may be the last time he holds me like this.
I sigh. To think I once denied his touch is laughable.
It calms me in a way I never knew possible.
Somehow, I suspect Brynn knows it may be the last time, too.
In fact, he seems as anxious as I do about returning to the mortal realm.
I turn to face him. His golden irises smolder as I place my hands on each side of his neck and pull his lips to mine.
As if I could kiss away his suspicions. He kisses me back in earnest, with a soft but urgent heat.
His words float through my head, You can say so much with touch.
I know so many spoken languages and still, touch often communicates what words cannot.
I hope he feels everything I want to say that I can’t.
Shortly after leaving the sanctuary of Brynn’s bedroom, a winded Clack appears in the doorway of the main living quarters.
He ushers Jasmeen into the cavernous room.
Her eyes fixate on the glass ceiling above and she exhales a quiet wow.
Glo has taken up some strange stretching and chanting, I assume in preparation for performing what she called ‘big magic,’ but grins when she sees Jasmeen.
Brynn breaks away to converse with the orc in hushed tones.
Jasmeen crosses the room with a knowing smile.
“You two appear well rested,” she says, gesturing between Brynn and me. Glo snickers conspiratorially.
“As do you,” I say, my voice too sweet. That shuts Glo up—she freezes mid-ridiculous stretch, an apricot blush painting her cheeks.
Jasmeen smirks before pulling me into an embrace.
When she draws back, her hands rest on my shoulders.
She gives me a gentle squeeze and a pointed look that says are you ready? I respond with a small nod.