by H. E. Edgmon
Potato, potahto, whatever, I’m going to steal it and I’m going to smoke it.
Briar trails after me the next evening, and I can feel the bleakness in her expression even though I refuse to turn around and look at her. She was overjoyed that no one besides Jin seemed to have caught on to our little adventure with Summanus, that the only consequence we faced from the ordeal was spending a night with the witches—a night she seemed to enjoy, at that.
“You know, they say curiosity killed the cat, Wyatt.”
“And they say that satisfaction brought it back, Briar.” I look over my shoulder to grin at her. “Besides, I’m not curious. I know exactly what I’m doing.”
“Mmm-hmm. And what was today’s card?”
I roll my eyes at the question. “Six of Cups. Nothing in the reading that said I was going to put myself in mortal peril by having a little fun.”
And maybe, if I’m being honest, breaking into the fae’s greenhouse and stealing the morghira has way more to do with having fun than it does actually getting into trouble. It’s obnoxious, and reckless, and against the rules, all of which technically is in line with Derek’s plans, but that’s not really the motivation here.
It’s been a long, weird time lately. I miss Laredo. I miss Nadua and Sunny, because texting and the occasional FaceTime call isn’t the same as being home with my family. I miss the dogs and the dry, overbearing Texas heat. I miss walking a mile down the road to get cheap soda from the gas station, and meeting up with Briar’s friends, and feeling seventeen and normal. The last couple of years are the only time in my life I’ve ever felt normal.
So, okay. Maybe I haven’t thought this one through. But what’s more normal than a teenager doing something remarkably asinine in order to get inebriated?
Briar huffs, jogging a little to catch up to me as we head toward the woods. “You said yourself you’ve only seen other people use this stuff. You have no idea how it might affect you. What if you hate it?”
I shrug, casting a glance around us. We’ve left the palace yard behind, and there aren’t many fae lingering about to hear. Though why I’m trying to be sneaky when being caught and punished is the entire point, I’m not sure. “It’s less about the smoking and more about the stealing. I’m just trying to cause a disturbance. Or have you forgotten the end game already?”
“No, I remember.” She pins me with a pinched expression. I can read her thoughts clearly, but I choose not to and instead look away.
“Once we get beyond the tree line, stay close to me. The last thing we need is a goblin trying to abscond with you and make you their wife.” Goblins are known to do that, trapping people in unhappy marriages by tricking them into ancient, confusing rituals.
Perhaps Emyr has taken a page from their handbook.
“Mmm-hmm.”
Truthfully, it is perhaps at least a little about the smoking. I need something to take the edge off. The meeting from last night has left me feeling frayed, confused, wide open.
“You know, if we’re going to be out here getting into things we shouldn’t anyway, maybe you could take me to see the door to Faery,” she suggests, because of course she does. Because of course that’s where her head is, after last night.
I slide one sharpened tooth over my lower lip and shrug. “It’s not really much to look at.”
“Oh.”
I glance back at her and stop in my tracks. Her bright energy has dulled, albeit only a little. “We don’t have to do this if you really don’t want to.”
Because I am weak and helpless to do anything that might make Briar unhappy. Because she has me curled around her finger, even if she’s not cunning enough to do anything with that power.
She meets my eye and shrugs. “Promise you’ll take me to the door later?”
It’s a ridiculous request, but I nod, anyway. “Promise.”
She grins, flashing a hint of dimple, and reaches out to take my hand. “Okay. Let’s go steal the magic flower.”
Asalin’s woods are thick and dark and filled with things that would likely enjoy seeing both of us dead, but I don’t feel unsafe here. I never have. All my memories of these woods are good ones: Emyr and me disappearing together into the brambles, sneaking off to have our own adventures. Back then, I felt more like myself out here than I ever did in the castle or at home with my parents and sister.
Besides, I’m probably a bigger monster than anything that lives in this forest.
“The greenhouse is just up ahead. But a little farther beyond, there’s a clearing where the peryton flock like to gather. We can go check them out, yeah? They’re a little shy, but as long as we keep our distance they shouldn’t fly away.”
Briar grins again, and this time her dimples make craters in her cheeks, her energy as bright as day. She squeezes my hand tighter. “Okay.”
She’s practically vibrating she’s so excited. Good. All it takes are a few magical creatures to sway Briar to the side of chaos. And I guess I understand that. When you’ve never seen this shit before, Asalin must be pretty enthralling.
I remember the time after I ran away, when I disappeared into the human world. I was alone and afraid. Hungry. Traumatized. Angry. I didn’t have time to stop and take in the things around me. I barely had time to breathe. I slept in shelters, or abandoned cars, or bathroom stalls. I ate what I could steal, or beg for, or I didn’t eat at all. There was a moment, completely by myself in the world with nothing left to hang on to, when I realized how much easier it would be if I just let go. If I just stopped trying to survive.
Nadua found me shortly after that. She took me in, and Briar stitched me back together again. And eventually, I could relax enough to realize how unbelievably cool humans are.
Hell, the idea of twenty-four-hour fast-food places still gets me pretty worked up. You can just go! Get chicken nuggets! At any time of day or night! How is that not magic in and of itself?
Asalin’s greenhouse is tucked behind an army of honey locust trees, a cluster of them grown in a circle around the glass dome. Their limbs stretch up and over it, parting just enough around the top to let the waning sunlight in. I’m not sure if that’s a work of magic, or a work of nature, or some combination of the two. The greenhouse itself is a perfect half circle, a little bubble made of glass so thin it might be invisible if not for the multitude of colorful plants climbing it, reaching toward the sky.
Birds gather here, singing to themselves and hopping at the top. A particularly suspicious-looking wood thrush flutters down to a low-hanging branch to eye Briar and me with what I imagine is contempt.
Perhaps even the damn bird knows I’m not supposed to be here.
“Wyatt.” Briar drops my hand and takes a few steps to the side, leaning forward to try and peer around the edge of the greenhouse. “How do we get in?”
That isn’t a terrible question. A little more investigating proves that, yep, no, there doesn’t appear to be any door. At all.
If I were to wager a guess, it would be that the fae who tend to these plants use some bippity-boppity-boo shit to get inside. But I don’t have any idea what I’m doing, and I do not have the time or inclination to learn. Instead, I find the biggest rock in the vicinity and scoop it up into my palms.
“Oh, for crying out loud,” I hear Briar mumble, seconds before I pull my arm back and send the rock hurtling through the glass.
It shatters. And I mean...the whole thing. Fucking shatters. I guess that glass really was wafer thin, because taking one hole out of it brought the whole thing crumbling down, shards of glass erupting through the trees as the dome caves in on itself. The birds screech and take off, all except the wood thrush, who’s still glaring at me.
Whatever. Damn judgmental bird. I swat at the thing until it takes off after the others.
“Did you mean to do that?” Briar has crossed her arms and is glaring at me from th
e other side of what used to be a greenhouse the size of a small home and is now a pile of glass and sad-looking plants.
“Ah. No. But! This will definitely piss people off, right?” If someone was alerted by the sound and comes running to investigate, at least I’ll have the satisfaction of being caught red-handed. That’s, like, the whole point, anyway, right?
Briar pinches the bridge of her nose.
The soles of my boots make extremely satisfying crunches as I step past the line of trees to wiggle my way into the remnants of the greenhouse. I toe a few things, flipping them over and investigating each one.
All right, maybe I shouldn’t have done this. The greenhouse protects the most rare plants in Asalin, the ones gathered by Leonidas and his crew during their brief time in Faery. It was never my intention to destroy anything. And no matter what I might feel about the fae, the witches use these plants in all kinds of concoctions. My heart pangs sharply.
Still. There’s nothing I can do about it now.
The morghira flower is swirled with shades of deep green and blue, with flecks of red along the edges of each petal. They grow to be about the size of my fist, but this isn’t the height of their season, and for now they’re rather small. I can fit three in my palm. I shove as many as I can gather into the pocket of my hoodie, shaking glass off each one, and then crunch my way back to Briar.
“All right, you ready to go see—”
The bushes shift in the most unnatural way. Without thinking, I reach for Briar’s hand and yank her behind me, eyes narrowing. There are too many things out here in the forest. There’s no telling what I might’ve attracted with the sound of breaking glass.
“Wyatt?”
“Shh.” My eyes narrow. “Who’s there?”
A growl vibrates from the shrubbery, low and guttural. The hair on my body stands on end, a chill creeping along every inch of my skin. Not fae, nor witch. Something even more animal than either.
“Wyatt?” Briar whispers at my back.
I give the barest shake of my head. I won’t let anything happen to her.
The bush shifts again, and this time the creature emerges. It looks like a wolf, only bigger. Easily four feet tall and eight feet long, it’s covered in shaggy black fur that stands up straight down its back. The hellhound stalks toward us, its shoulders rolling, a predator hunting its prey. Its red eyes flash, slobbery tongue flicking out to lick its massive jaws.
Briar sucks in a breath. I can hear the way her sandals move against the forest floor underneath us, her feet sliding beneath her on instinct, her body no doubt telling her she needs to run.
“Don’t move,” I whisper, even as the creature inches closer. You never run from a hellhound. They’ll always be faster.
It’s only a few feet away from me now. It lowers its upper body toward the ground, black tail swishing back and forth as it stares into my face. The creature’s lips pull back from its teeth as it inhales the scent of me. We meet eyes.
The hellhound lunges. Behind me, Briar screams.
Pinned to the ground underneath the animal, I can hear my heart thundering in my ears as he bends down, opens his mouth above my throat, and begins licking his way across my neck and face. I reach up to scratch my nails into the fur at his neck, scrubbing against him, grinning wildly.
“Who’s a good boy? Is it you? Are you a good boy?”
Boom, the pup Emyr and I rescued once, a long, long time ago, jumps off me to spin in circles in front of us. His massive body bangs against a few trees, knocking loose a couple branches, but he doesn’t seem to notice. He snaps his teeth at the air in front of himself, excitement making him throw back his head and howl.
I laugh, hoisting myself to my feet and throwing my arms around him, pressing our foreheads together and kissing his snout. “That’s right, you’re a good boy.”
He licks my face even more aggressively and then bounds away, running between the trees, back and forth, barking at Briar and me all the while.
She blinks at me. “You two know each other?”
“His name’s Boom.” I can’t stop smiling, watching the big, goofy dog run circles around us. “He’s mine.”
“Yours?”
“Yeah.”
“You haven’t been here in a long time.”
“Yeah, well.” I shrug. “Some things never change.”
Some connections are too important to be broken, no matter the time or distance between people.
Briar raises an eyebrow at me. I think she’s going to say something I don’t want to hear, but she doesn’t get the chance. Boom comes to a screeching halt in front of me, kicking up dirt and rocks underfoot as he throws his head back to howl again. I can’t help but laugh.
When he runs off in the direction of the peryton clearing, I motion for Briar to follow me and head after him. He disappears into the trees ahead and I quicken my pace, desperate not to lose sight of him for long.
After a minute of power-walking through the thicket of trees, we break into the meadow at the heart of the forest. When Briar bumps up beside me, I turn and press my finger to my lips, making sure she stays quiet. Then I point in front of us.
Peryton are basically white-tailed deer with huge, hawklike wings. There are about fifty flock members in Asalin, bucks and does and fawns all spread across the field before us. Some stand and nibble at the grass under their hooves. Others lie in the last rays of the fading sun, warming their feathers and fur. Still others buck their horns together, play fighting.
Briar brings her hands to her mouth, covering her lips to keep from screaming. I grin and turn back to scan the area for Boom. He seems to have really disappeared this time. I want to call his name and see if he’ll come to me. Though if I do that, all the peryton will fly away and Briar will be upset. So, I don’t.
The meadow looks the same. Ever since I crossed the threshold back into Asalin, unwanted memories from my childhood have begun to resurface, a youth I’ve tried to bury regenerating sharply in my mind’s eye. I have so many memories of trekking to this meadow with Emyr, hiding behind the line of trees to watch the flock from a far distance so as to not spook them. We would climb into the branches and lounge next to one another, hold hands, talk about the future. If I didn’t know better, I would think no time had passed at all.
But plenty of time has passed, and things are different now—really different, including one thing about the meadow itself. After I scan for a few seconds, I notice something new, something that definitely wasn’t here back when Emyr and I used to spend our time hiding in the woods. There’s a little cabin tucked away on the other side of the clearing, a tiny log house decorated on the outside with climbing ivy entwined with rows and rows of flowers.
Huh. Who lives out here? Maybe that’s where Boom is.
I take Briar’s hand, pulling her along the edge of the tree line to make our way toward the cabin without cutting through the clearing and disturbing the flock. She stumbles along behind me, refusing to look away from the creatures gathered in the sun.
As we make our way up the stone pathway to the cabin, I see the freaking wood thrush sitting on the window ledge. It looks smug. Smug!
I don’t have time to choke the damn bird before the front door of the cabin swings open. Boom comes bounding out barking, running circles around us again. A few of the peryton take note and ruffle their feathers, but they don’t seem all that disturbed by his obnoxiousness. And he isn’t alone—clearly, he didn’t open the door himself. Seconds after Boom bounds away to try and goad a few bucks into playing with him, Emyr steps out of the cabin.
Oh.
Oh, no.
Oh, shit.
I’m so gay.
He’s shirtless and barefoot, dressed in only a pair of sheer black pants that appear to be made of tightly woven mesh. They’re low slung on the waist and oversize on his legs, then fitted t
o his ankles. They show off the dip of his V, and underneath there appears to be an opaque swath of black fabric around his waist like a skirt. He scratches his long black claws across his happy trail, dragging them up and down his muscled stomach. His eyes are tired, his wings drooping as if they haven’t quite woken up yet. His golden energy drags along on the ground behind him.
Sleepy and half-naked Emyr is apparently my homosexual kryptonite, because I feel like I could combust.
“Evening,” he grumbles, sleepiness making his words rasp out. He yawns big and wide, flashing those huge viper’s fangs. I think I can feel my knees wiggle underneath me. “Were you looking for me?”
“We had no idea you were out here,” I quickly retort. I so do not want Emyr thinking I wanted to see him. Especially not right now, when I’m barely suppressing my inexplicable desire to, like, lick him or something.
“Hmm.” He curls his hands behind his head and arches his body forward, stretching out the curve of his spine. I force myself to glance at the sky. “S’my cabin. Came out here to do some reading. Must’ve dozed off. What are you doing?”
“Just looking for a place to hook up with my concubine,” I say, because I know Emyr has convinced himself I’m banging Briar and because I want to irritate him.
What I don’t expect is for Briar to give me a wholly disgusted look. What? There was a time she wouldn’t have been that opposed to sleeping with me.
Emyr either doesn’t notice the unamused expression on Briar’s face or doesn’t know her well enough to read it properly, because he glowers at me like he’s thinking about snapping me in half. Go ahead and try it, pretty boy.
As Boom continues his tussling with two young peryton bucks, Briar’s attention drifts after him. Her dark gaze follows the animals this way and that, delight etching itself into her round face as she clearly forgets to be annoyed at me.
Emyr tells her, “You can get closer, if you want. They’re pretty friendly, at least with my friends.”
She doesn’t wait for a response from me, nor does she give him any answer of her own. Instead, she hightails it toward the field, getting as close to a fawn and its mother as she can before crouching down to stare at them in wonder.
