Without hesitation, I ran. Those creatures began to chase me. They were quick, but for now, I was faster. I burst out of the forest into a clearing and saw the old farmhouse from my dream. I paused for a few seconds to get my bearings, hearing the scorpion-like creatures behind me, chattering at each other and spreading out to try to surround me. They’re pack hunters. I muttered a curse under my breath and filed that away for future reference. I took off again, this time searching for the cave. I ran so far that I was almost ready to turn back when I spotted the entrance. I darted inside and let out a massive sigh of relief.
There, gleaming in the moonlight, is Lantecari. “I do not know what fate you faced here, my fallen brother, but I need your sword, if you will permit it. I am sorry to disturb your rest and ask your forgiveness for intruding.”
I can hear the chittering coming closer now, and there’s no more time left to wait. I wrapped my hand around the hilt, and nothing happened. I’m not sure what I was expecting, but this wasn’t it. Maybe I’ve just been listening to far too many of Mirthal’s stories around the fire, but this was very anticlimactic. I was almost disappointed. I stepped out of the cave, and those things were starting to gather.
Without understanding why, I started to sing one of the ancient dirges. At the time, I wasn’t entirely sure if it was the Fey in the cave, myself, or them I was singing for. I knew I felt the need to sing, so I did. As I sang, I used that sword to cut off limbs, stingers, and finally heads. When everything was over, the sword and I were both covered in gore. I’m nearly falling over from exhaustion, and the gray light of dawn is creeping in. I began to put the sword back, but something stopped me. I had the feeling that I was supposed to keep this sword. Instead of putting it away, I made a sling for it since I have no scabbard.
I returned to the cave and prepared to build a cairn of stones over the male whose death here gave me my life back. I don’t really have anything else suitable to offer, so I jabbed a finger and left a few drops of my blood in honor of his sacrifice. That and the dirge are the only gifts I have to leave for him, whoever he was. Even after sifting through the dirt all around him, I can’t find so much as a buckle, button, or coin—anything that might tell me who he was. I turned back north, toward our camp, and started running again. I ran until I was too tired to move at any speed. When that happened, I climbed a tree and took a short nap. It took me two days to catch up to my war band. I staggered into camp, exhausted and nearly starving from running so much without stopping to eat.
Agis, our healer at the time, looks at me and goes pale like moonlight. "Fuck me. I just sent word to your family that you were lost. Let me go let them know you’re found.”
He scurries off, glancing over his shoulder a few times, as if checking that I’m really there. There have been stories of the fallen returning to their camps only to vanish mysteriously, so I don’t blame him for looking. I laugh. "Agis, I’m really here.”
Keryth shoves a mug and bowl into my hands. "Sit. Eat. We found your sword and figured you were a goner.”
Sometimes that’s all we ever find of the fallen, if they’ve been eaten. I nod. I gesture to my back, where I have Lantecari slung. "I found another one.”
Keryth chuckles dryly, “I see that. It’s a fine blade. A damn sight better than our standard issue. Where did you find it?”
“In a cave, while I was running from those things. They pack hunt, by the way. All that chittering is their speech.”
Keryth blanches and grimaces. The intelligent pack hunters are some of the most dangerous things we encounter, and Keryth wanders off to add that to our growing collection of records on the nightmares we face. Everyone else has gathered around to welcome me back among the living and hear the tale. “Some poor sot crawled into that cave and died. I found it when I was looking for a place to hide, where I might stand a better chance by having something at my back. I took his sword from beside his bones.”
To this day, I can’t say Mirthal’s superstitions are entirely wrong. His tossing salt, knocking on things, and turning in circles—none of it made much sense to the rest of us. Since he’s one of the eleven still alive, I can’t claim he was wrong about any of it. Those of us who occasionally joined him in these rituals are the ones still standing. The scoffers and skeptics who outright refused to participate now have funeral monuments. Those of us who at least went along with it, even if only sometimes, to humor Mirthal... well... we’re the eleven. Mirthal, the most superstitious among us, curses loudly. "Fucking hells. You’re carrying a dead man’s blade? Do you even know who he was?”
This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author's work.
I shake my head. “I have no idea who he was or how he ended up there. There wasn’t much left but the sword and some bones. I couldn’t find so much as a button or a coin. I had hoped I might find something so I could tell his family, at least. It was either pick up the blade or die, Mirthal. I wasn’t ready to die. I couldn’t have fended those things off with just my daggers. I asked permission before I took it. I built him a cairn once I killed those things. I left him a bier offering.”
Mirthal is only slightly mollified and continues to harrumph and grump at me. I know that this is his way of telling me he cares what happens to me, so I hug him and stagger off to get some sleep.
This is how I realize my dreams aren’t always typical. Without those dreams, I’d likely be scorpion scat in the forest somewhere. Instead, I’m sitting here trying to figure out why I cast a spell to try to free a man I know I’ve never actually met, yet somehow, I did. Not only did we meet, but I somehow came to care enough about him to attempt to free him. I shake my head to clear these thoughts. None of this is something I can do anything about right now. What I need to do now is prepare for court. I have to appear, and I'm not looking forward to it. Our king isn't one to give up easily, and I'm sure I'll end up on his bad side—probably again. If nothing else, my show of temper when I was leaving court probably did it. I’m sure they had to come and clean the floor.
I go fuss with my appearance and my hair until my mother pokes her head in and tells me that he's here. I mutter something unladylike that makes my mother chuckle and head down the stairs. My mother starts to adjust my dress, and I wave her off. “Don't. I don't like how the men here with him look at me. I'd rather not draw their eyes any more than I have.”
Frowning, my mother nods but leaves my dress alone. I take a moment to pop Kenric into some Fey clothes. Once we're in the carriage, I look at Kenric closely.
He notices me studying him and smiles. “Do you want to change anything?”
I shake my head. “No. It's just that I feel like I should know you, but I know I don't. I know for a fact I've never met a human before. I keep having these dreams, and I don't know what they mean yet.”
He arches an eyebrow at me and asks, “Do these dreams have anything to do with your list?”
I blush and shake my head. “Not even remotely. I suppose I'll figure out what they are eventually. I'll tell you all about it when we're finished for the day. There’s not enough time before I have to sit in my corner, making notes, and I don’t really want to discuss it in the palace anywhere.”
He gives me a puzzled look, so I explain. “The palace is full of listening posts. There are places where you can stand and listen to what everyone is saying without being seen. Never talk about anything in the palace that you don’t want to be overheard.”
Kenric nods. “I’ll be sure to tell the rest of the delegation that.”
He looks down at his hands for a moment before glancing back at me. “If it helps any, I feel like I should know you, too. I thought I knew you when you were standing on the bridge. I feel like I've known you quite well, actually, quite intimately. All of your adorable little noises feel familiar somehow. I can’t quite figure out how, since you’re the only Fey I’ve ever even kissed. I don't know what it means either, but we'll talk about it later."
The carriage pulls up, and we go to meet the rest of the trade delegation. They’re dressed as Fey today, but still not nearly as well-dressed as my magnificent male. I make a few subtle adjustments to their clothing and set them straight before we head inside. Kenric notices and gives me a slight nod of approval.
I take my seat at the side table and start jotting down notes. It’s a long day filled with fairly boring negotiations over various food items. I’m nearly cross-eyed from looking at this travesty of a trade agreement when Kenric finally taps my shoulder. “Ready to see what I have planned?”
I smile up at him, feeling delighted. “Yes, please. Anything but another page of this, right now.”
He laughs and holds out his hand. “Come. Your carriage awaits.”
Once we’re in the carriage, he gives me a heated look. “Did you bring your list?”
I smirk. “Yes, I’ve brought them.”
I get a growling hum from him. “Them? As in more than one?”
I nod and grin at him, secretly pleased with myself.
The scent of his arousal is sudden and intense. He eyes me like a hungry predator. “Well, let’s see them.”
I laugh and wave a hand at my dress. “You’ll have to find them. Think of it as a bit of a scavenger hunt.”
Kenric lets out that same growling hum, stronger this time, and his gaze is scalding. “Where am I looking, then?”
I smirk, “In my clothing. On me.”
His eyes go wide in surprise for a moment before he laughs, “Be still, my heart. Now, I am beyond besotted with you, my naughty little vixen.”
Leaning forward, he looks me in the eyes and says, “I am going to make it a point to find every last one of them. How many are there?”
My eyes widen as I realize I never counted them. I shrug. “I didn’t count them.”
He’s practically purring. “No matter. I’ll have to recheck every last inch of you.”
He pulls me into his lap, and his fingers start threading through my hair, searching for anything. I didn’t put anything there, but his fingers, moving through my hair and across my scalp, are just heavenly. “Tell me about your ears,” he growls. “Just how sensitive are they?”
Well then!
If you’ve reached this point, congratulations on surviving the dirges, the carnage, the court, and whatever that tension between our Fey and her human is. Personally, I would’ve fainted halfway through—but again, that’s why I’m a bard and not a warrior.
You have now witnessed:
- A sword with more personality than most nobles
- A dream that refuses to mind its own business
- A healer nearly passing out because someone dared to be alive
- And a human who is either very brave, very charming, or very stupid in all the right ways
If you are confused, intrigued, or slightly aroused on someone’s behalf…
Excellent.
That means I’ve done my job.
Until the next disaster,
—Ashenleaf Brightnote
Chronicler, Commentator, and Long?Suffering Witness to Fey Drama