CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

My moon bound dismisses and calls her power to her over and over, until I run out of toadstools and the sun drops behind the trees. She continues to practice by knocking over the sticks, determined to keep going until, as she says, "It feels effortless. Like muscle memory."

I've never heard the phrase, but I understand. Weapons training is similar.

Mist returns, calling me into the woods to help with her kill, and Storm looks up from his grazing to tell me he'll watch over Taylor.

She blasts another stick from the ground, sending it flying, and pride fills me. My bride can now protect herself, and her powers will assure our quest goes as planned.

My glorious future awaits, closer than ever.

I nod to him and follow Mist into the trees. She brought down a deer, and it's too large to butcher close to camp without attracting predators. The feline fae's already eaten the liver, and I carve off both haunches and leave the rest for her once I've skinned the deer. It's a great deal of meat, but she clearly needs it, falling on the carcass with great hunger. She's been running and hunting more than a cat sith normally would these past few days since she's been feeding all three of us.

I heft the haunches, the weight of them solid in my hand. I too will eat well for the first time in over a week. "Thank you," I force the words out. "You've taken on the burden of hunting so I could protect my moon bound. I'll be able to help more now that she's found her magic, but I won't forget what you've done."

"Be still my heart," Mist drawls, her green eyes laughing up at me. "Did an orc just thank a cat sith?"

A scowl pulls at my mouth. I try to do something nice, and the cat has to go and throw it back in my face.

Then she grins. "You're welcome, orc. I look forward to those big hands of yours plucking some fowl clean for me. Feathers are such a pain when they get stuck in the throat."

Saying you're welcome is as unusual as a thank you among many of the fae, so I take her words for the peace offering they are. I tip my head and turn away.

"That is, if you're not too busy using those fingers to pluck something—or should I say someone—else."

I stomp off, irritated all over again. How dare Mist talk about what I shared with Taylor in that way?

But I'm more irritated that I don't know when I'll have my hands on my bride's sweet body again.

It doesn't help that when I get back to the meadow, the sprites have found us. They circle Taylor's head in flashing butterfly wings, calling out in high voices.

"No," she says, her voice firmer than normal. "I do not want you to make me more Faerie Fruit!"

And there it is. Confirmation that she regrets what happened between us. I have not wooed her. She does not love me yet.

I duck back into the forest, harvesting fiddleheads and edible mushrooms to add to our dinner, my knife slashing through the soft vegetables with extra frustration.

By the time I return, the sprites have gone to bed, dotting the top of the bluebells on the far side of the field from where Storm grazes.

While I tend the fire and cook our food, Taylor continues to practice, even though her shoulders droop with exhaustion.

I call to her, but she's so focused she doesn't hear me, so I stride over and wrap my hands around her shoulders, making her jump. "Come and eat."

"But—"

"Mist hunted, and I've cooked you dinner," I growl. "You will eat it while it's hot."

I march her over to the log I pulled in front of the fire and set a pewter plate in her hand, filled with mushrooms and fiddleheads sautéed in deer fat and a thick slice of venison.

At the first bite, she perks up, chewing rapidly. "Wow, this is good."

"You're hungry," I say, ripping off a hunk of meat with my tusks.

"It's still good."

I grin, pleased, and we eat in silence for several minutes, both too hungry to talk.

When she finally slows down, she says, "Sorry about that. I can get really focused when I'm learning a new skill."

"I noticed. It's the kind of concentration warrior training requires, but you weren't one on Earth, were you?" She told me she had no magic there, and she's too small to be much of a fighter without it.

"Not in the way you mean, but I fought a lot in games."

"Why fight at all if you were playing games?"

"For fun and…" She gives a jerky one-shouldered shrug, then blows a puff of air up through her bangs. "I had a brother who died."

A jolt of shock goes through me. "I'm sorry."

"Thanks." Taylor offers me a soft smile. "I never knew him—it happened before I was born. My brother's why I got into video games. When I was seven, Dad left, and Mom was… sad. I went into my brother's room and found his stuff. He had this old Play Station."

"Play Station?" I frown at the unfamiliar words.

She waves a hand. "It's a thing you play games on. The important part is I thought if I could be more like my brother, my father would come back. I practiced really hard and got good at the games, so I could show him. It didn't work—Dad still left—but I fell in love with video games."

"Your father left you?"

"Well, officially he left Mom, but yeah, I guess he left me, too." She gives another of those jerky half shrugs. "It's pretty common. Lots of couples who lose a child end up divorced. Divorce is super common in general."

I tear another piece of meat from the bone, spending the time chewing to think furiously. I don't like the way her voice sounds when she talks about this "divorce." This fragmentation of her parents' marriage clearly bothers her more than she wants to admit.

"I will never leave you, my bride," I assure her. "There will never be any of this ‘divorce' you speak of."

Her eyes and mouth go wide. "What if you change your mind? What if you don't want me?"

"It will never happen. I am yours forever."

My words are truer than ever. The more I get to know her, the more I love her.