25. Folly

Wet heat splashes Folly's right hand to the elbow. Droplets break across his face and shoulder. His iron dagger catches against flesh, then slices free, and he staggers back from the tree stump.

With a gurgling shriek, Moriath lurches forward. Clutching hands disrupt the spraying blood, then fall away. Shadows twist around him, like he's trying to change shapes, but his fae form never wavers. The iron wound is fatal.

Moriath drops to his knees, then to his face. Then he falls still.

A breath later, the body melts into shadow.

Folly's right hand unlocks from the dagger. He rubs his left hand on his trousers until he wipes off enough of the invisibility dust.

When Folly flickers into visibility, Yarrow swings around. The relief on his face is so incandescent, Folly's eyes water.

It worked. Folly's stupid plan worked, and he didn't even need to risk using the coin. He killed Moriath.

He's never killed anyone before, evil shapestealing monster or no.

Folly sways. The glade wavers around him, and after his next blink, Yarrow is right there. Strong hands holding Folly up, soothing words dragging him out of his daze.

"Are you all right?" Yarrow touches Folly's face, heedless of the blood. "Are you hurt? You were on the ground, how did you…"

"After he lifted the curse, I used the invisibility dust." Folly shrugs. He'd just followed the plan, except with Yarrow as bait instead. "I left my robe as a decoy, then snuck around and bound Moriath with the other mushrooms. I can't believe it worked, but you two were distracted."

Yarrow stares. "You weren't unconscious?"

"Pretending to be unconscious is very easy," Folly informs him. "You just don't do anything."

"You beautiful, perfect man," Yarrow breathes. He takes Folly's hands, not flinching from the blood.

Folly shudders. "Was that really your father?"

"How much did you hear?" Yarrow traces the lines of Folly's palms. His left thumb slips in the blood, but he holds each hand just as tenderly. There's sadness in his voice when he answers, "I think he was telling the truth, yes."

Fuck.

Folly would do it again, of course. He had no choice. But killing a lover's father is really something one should discuss in advance, and if he'd made a mistake, he couldn't exactly fix it. And even if it was the right thing to do, it could still feel bad.

"I'm sorry," Folly says. He can't put the rest into words.

Yarrow shrugs. "I need a good meal and a pint of mead before I figure my head out. But I'm glad you killed him. He killed a lot of people. He was going to kill you."

"That's not why I killed him," Folly says.

"I know." Yarrow's eyes turn soft and fond. "You saved my life. I'm in your?—"

Folly yanks his hands free to cover Yarrow's mouth, bloodstains and all. "Gods, Yarrow! We just got out of a fucking curse! Don't you dare jump straight into a life debt!"

However fae handle life debts, it can't be good.

Yarrow's eyes crinkle. Then he doubles over in joyous laughter. Like light and magic, it fills the Cerulean Glade. Folly's heart soars on the billowing sound. He gasps out half a sob, before he's laughing too.

Quiet only returns when Yarrow wraps him in a hug. Folly clings, closing his eyes. Hard to believe he once tried running away from Yarrow. Right now, Folly never wants to let go.

"Can we pretend we're still cursed?" Folly mumbles against Yarrow's chest. "Just for a bit, so I can get used to this."

Yarrow nuzzles Folly's hair. "I'll take any excuse to hold you, little human."

"Good. I'll start thinking of more excuses." But even in this moment of comfort, Folly can't help but wonder. "What happens next?"

"Next, we get you cleaned up." The edge of Yarrow's voice sharpens. "Then I have an interesting report to give the summer queen."