12. Jen

12

Jen

S he wasn't going to die.

It was the first time she ever remembered thinking or believing such a thing. Even when she was very little, Jen had been aware of death. That it would come for everyone. She had been there when her grandmother drew her last breath, and clutched her father about the neck as he sobbed. The memory of his hot tears were some of the first she carried. Grief, pain, loss. All of that, she knew she would have in spades.

But her own life would be spared until she, herself, said so. At least according to Ankou.

"What were you doing?" Maeve asked when they were all congregated back in her sitting room. The one with the ceiling of painted stars. Pure moonlight shone through the tall windows, illuminating some of the space and gleaming against the deep, rich wood furnishings.

Sinking down onto one of the plush armchairs in a puddle of moonlight, Jen blinked when the silence lengthened, her eyes having some trouble staying focused on the people in the room. "I don't know what was happening. It was odd, like a vibration I could feel through my feet that told me to go to you."

Rodan's voice was low. "This is not the first time you have exhibited some sensitivity or inclination toward magic."

"Is it a sensitivity to magic, or was a god summoning her?" Troy asked, watching her from where they were leaned against a pillar, legs crossed at the ankles.

Jen reached up and rubbed the spot that still tingled on her forehead. Every time she directly touched it, full-body shivers overtook her. "This thing is weird."

"It looks pearlescent," Maeve said, coming close to examine her, bending down. "And there is something changed about you."

Scoffing, Jen turned her head away. "Changed?"

"You seem more—solid. Permanent." Straightening, Maeve looked to Rodan for confirmation, saying nothing aloud, though they were obviously talking through their link.

Fidgeting in her seat, Jen shot up and out of reach when Maeve turned to her again. "I don't really feel like being prodded at right now."

Maeve rolled her eyes. "We think it's real. What Ankou said about you and this mark? It's true."

Troy reached for Jen and she stepped into the circle of their arms, speaking with her face partly pressed to their chest. "This is insane."

Her lover chuckled. "I should take her back to our rooms. It's been a long day."

It had been. Jen had been involved with the rescue efforts alongside Maeve and Troy all this time, and there were so many little things to attend to. Not only was a household staff needed for damn near everything, but the city itself was in an incredibly disheveled state after the thrashing Edurne's storm gave. And now there was all this, and what it meant. There was a lot to process.

How long since Jen had slept? She was not sure. At least twenty hours, perhaps more.

Maeve was still standing close enough that Jen noticed for the first time there were silver stars within the deep black of the changed eye. It was mesmerizing. "Get some rest, both of you. We'll talk more in the morning, and figure out what all this means." She smiled, and saw them out.

Troy walked Jen to their shared chambers. They were a short journey from the royal ones and, once inside, flowers bloomed along the walls and vines twined in places they had no business being. The side effect of sharing space with a Songweaver. They brought nature with them everywhere.

They were a set of three rooms. A bedroom, a sitting room, and a bathroom. Troy had discovered these rooms first, and Jen had sort of fallen into staying there, despite the excess of suites available. She was used to having her own place, yet there was something about remaining near the elf that seemed vital.

When they weren't mothering her, of course.

"Stop crowding me so close," Jen groused once they were within and she had a cup of wine in hand. Pacing the sitting room, she brought the goblet to her lips with a tremble before nearly crashing into her lover again. "Damn it, Troy."

They backed up a few steps, but still seemed to be hovering, concern writ large across their features. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine," she snapped. "And I don't need you making me feel like some fragile thing. I'm not."

Troy opened their mouth as though to argue and she shot them a look. They stayed quiet and moved away from her, shoulders slumping.

Jen looked away, studying the room instead. Tapestries, some depicting the crest of this house, surrounded by vines and thorns, and some depicting hunting or fighting scenes, hugged the golden stone walls. All the furniture was done in rich hardwoods, shining in the lantern light. Books lined the walls near the windows, and a fireplace crackled with a small fire, keeping the chill of the winter away.

Looking at another of the flowering vines twining up a slender pillar, Jen said, "You have to be more careful about using your abilities, even here, even now. I remember what you told me."

Troy fingered the fletching on some of the arrows hanging in a quiver by the door. There were more of them, and the needed bows, leaning in another three strategic places throughout their space. The elf hated the idea of being without, of not being able to protect her.

They had been talking that way for a while.

Now, they looked at her, and she wished they would take their hair down. Pulled back, it was easier to see their face crumble into blatant concern, the stress of it shadowing their eyes. "It helps to have some things nearby," they gestured at a flower, which stretched toward their fingertips. "Otherwise the power leaks out in unexpected ways."

She took another swallow of wine and studied her lover. How incredible it seemed, still, they were hers.

She pursed her lips. "You shot an arrow at a god today."

"I thought he was going to hurt you."

"That was stupid," Jen said, feeling the knot in her stomach tighten. "You could have been killed."

Troy barred their teeth at her. "And I was supposed to stand back and do nothing?"

"He's a god," she said, as though that were everything. It may as well have been. She giggled, the events of the day crashing into her. "I'm marked by a god."

Troy came back to her side and took the wine glass from her, setting it on a nearby table. "You're still human," they said, their voice gentle and low. "Still my Jen."

"Yours, am I?" she asked, another laugh bubbling from her lips. "I should have known you wouldn't be able to let me go." She slid a hand up their chest, watching their eyes widen then fill with knowledge as she touched. "You know you're too old for me, right? May December romance."

"I'm far from the end of my lifespan," they groused. "Still young by elven terms, I'll have you know."

She smiled up at them, cuddling close to their heat. "You're almost a hundred years old."

"I'm barely eighty."

She giggled again, then wrapped her arms around them, laying her head on their chest. She could hear the thrum of their heart beneath her ear, and she breathed deep of their scent, letting it fill her. "In my world that would mean I would be dating a geriatric. It wouldn't work."

"Good for you I'm not human."

"Yes," she agreed, tone serious. "Right now, I'm very grateful you're not human."

"Because you'll live forever?"

"Not forever," she corrected. "Just until I call him."

Troy gripped her tight. "Don't you dare."

She laughed again. "Well, I'm not planning it anytime soon…" Troy was quiet long enough that she knew she had ventured into territory they were uncomfortable with. She broke away, gripping their forearms. "You're going to have to be okay with the fact it will happen one day, but this is a good thing, isn't it?"

They palmed her face, calloused thumb brushing her cheek. "It's the best thing," they breathed, gaze intense. "I love you. The thought of losing you?—"

"You're not going to lose me."

"I was going to," they whispered. "Before the mark."

Jen reached up and pressed their hand harder to the side of her face. It was true her human lifespan of less than a hundred years was nothing compared to an elf, who lived up to ten times those years. And Maeve? Rodan? He was already two thousand years old, and he had mentioned something about Titania being as old as the Fae Court itself. Jen shuddered to think of that much time, stretched before her like an ocean.

And now she could sense the twisting in her gut that Troy must have felt in stride, thinking, now—they would not live so long as her, perhaps. Perhaps she was the one who would be putting them into the ground.

Jen began to tremble, and tears blurred her vision.

"Oh, love," Troy breathed. "It'll be okay. You're safe now."

"But one day you won't be, and then?—"

"Just put that together, did you?" They grinned as they pressed their forehead to hers, closing their eyes as they spoke. "But now I know that all those years I'll be able to spend with you."

Jen shook her head. "I don't want to think of this right now."

When she pressed a kiss to their lips, she tasted all the layers of the wine she had been drinking. The blackberry and currant, the oak from the barrel, the sweetness of the grape juxtaposed by the dryness of the alcohol. And then their touch turned, sharpened, and all was them. Their grip tight, tilting her head up so they had the best possible access as tongue tasted and plundered until she was a shaking mess, the warmth between her legs molten.

But when she reached for the ties on their leathers, they shied away, breaking the kiss and holding her at arm's length. "We can't, at least I can't," they said hurriedly, a dark flush staining their cheeks.

She paused in her motions and tilted her head, words breathy. "Why not?"

"I'm in heat."

"Like a cat?" she blurted, embarrassment coloring her own cheeks a moment later.

They barked a laugh and kissed her again, rough and desperate. "Do I feel like a cat to you, lover?" they asked when they broke away, voice a rasp. "This only happens once or twice a year, depending. I just can't—I don't want to get you pregnant."

Now it was Jen's turn to laugh, and she followed their movements, pressing close. "Oh, you wouldn't be able to." They smelled of spices and earth, and she wanted more, to be skin to skin as they had been in the past. But she needed Troy to understand. "In my world, there were a lot of reasons I did what I did, but mostly I never saw myself as a mother." She held onto their shoulders, staring up into their wide brown eyes. "I don't have the ability to have children. I had those parts removed."

Troy stumbled over the word. "Removed?"

Jen nodded. "I'm fine. It was years and years ago. But you can't get me pregnant. It's physically impossible." She swallowed hard, suddenly unsure. "Is that okay?"

Silence stretched for a time, but their hands remained at her waist, thumbs brushing her ribs. Then a wide grin split Troy's face. "No babies. You're sure?"

Laughing again, unable to help it, Jen said, "Yes, you dork, I'm sure. It was a whole process."

"What's a dork?"

She grabbed their face and hauled them down for another kiss. When she broke away next her breath was hot and panting. "Does it matter?"

"Not a bit," they growled.

Jen surrendered to the moment, trying not to think of what might be before her, and what it all meant.

The soft yellow glow of the lamps played golden against Troy's dark skin. They shed layers and plucked them off her in turn, between heated touches and harder kisses.

Gods, she had never felt such pleasure by another lover's hands. Troy was like a magician, coaxing her higher every time. She would think that she had reached the zenith of all, and then they would do something insanely delicious with their tongue and she would come apart.

She felt clumsy by comparison, but every time she turned the tables on them, they made sounds that had her shaking at the knees to hear.

The words she got from them, as well, were such as to make her heart flutter. You are everything . They had said, I love you more than the air in my lungs. You are the heart of my heart. You are the first thing I think of in the morning, and the last face I picture before sleep claims me. I adore you.

She had never felt such things before.

When at last they had moved from the sitting room to the bedroom with its wide feather mattress, they made love by the moonlight streaming through the windows.

She did not want it to end, but it did, her body succumbing to the overwhelming need for rest.

And when Jen dreamed, she dreamed as she had for nights on end. Of Earth, destruction, fire.

And the Nyx.