by Eve Redmayne
“And what’s the proper method, scoop whatever can be found out of the privy?”
Willow shot her an evil look. Jessica sniggered despite the burning in her feet.
“I’ll have you know I’m a professional! I would never scoop just anything from the privy. I’d make sure it was the finest quality, first.” Willow winked a big green eye at her. “Now stay put and let me look at you.”
“But Braum needs—”
“Braum can wait a minute. Besides,” Willow continued cautiously, “there’s something you have to see.”
Jessica’s brows puckered at Willow’s tone. Nothing ever fazed the witch, so something must be wrong.
Willow unwound the first bandage and Jessica gaped. Amidst angry blisters, a red scrolling pattern had etched into the bottom of her feet.
“What on earth?” Jessica shook her head and ripped the other bandages off. Intricate channels swirled over both feet, carved into her flesh from heel to toe. The ornamental grooves faded to nothingness as they curved upwards. “How’d this happen?”
“Hell, if I know.” Willow leaned close and reached out a finger to trace the elaborate pattern.
“Ahh, that hurts… and tickles.” Jessica jerked away and mused, “I faded to the hot, inner layer of Orygin, searching for the crystal.” She shook her head. “My body stays put, but I’m still affected by what I do as a spirit? It doesn’t make sense.”
Again, she tried to stand, only to fall back at once.
Willow put her hand out to stop Jessica from trying again. “Stay down! I want to make sure you’re alright before we continue.”
“I’m fine,” Jessica assured her. This time she gritted her teeth and made it upright.
“I brewed tea.” Willow directed Jessica to the table and handed her a cup, insisting, “And the salve I used on you isn’t all that bad.”
It really wasn’t terrible, but Jessica couldn’t resist ribbing her friend. “Oh, so you’re saying it doesn’t actually have the finest shit in it?”
“No.” Willow scowled. “Valerian root’s a bit… pungent, I suppose.”
“Pungent? That’s code for, ‘smells like ass’?”
Willow laughed. “Yup.”
The fragrant peppermint tea soothed Jessica as she breathed in its aroma. She blew, took a sip, and tried to remember the healing properties of mint. Willow had expounded on the herbs daily, but she’d paid little attention, knowing from her lessons with Whipple that spells and potions were beyond her. Her eyes grew misty. Lord, she missed the old wizard and would love his help right now.
A teardrop splashed on the table. Her gaze followed to land upon a crystal, nestled between two blue candles and one white, arranged in a semi-circle. She frowned. “That’s it?”
Willow re-bandaged her feet as Jessica drank her tea. “I’ve never seen its equal. Its raw power could easily project a hundred spells.” Eyes, agleam, the witch glanced from Jessica to the crystal. “At first, I thought you hadn’t found it.”
Jessica scoffed. As if she’d fail. Then remembered how close she’d been to giving up.
“But it was embedded in your right foot.” Willow continued. “I had to dig it out using my knife. If you look closely, you’ll see the crystal’s reflection emblazoned in your flesh.”
“Let’s get on with it. Time’s slipping away and I still need to find the water,” Jessica said, standing, teeth gritted against the pain. She’d consider the cost of saving Braum, later.
Her gown rested before the hearth, still too damp to wear. “Thanks for trying to dry my clothes.” She shivered. “Heck, couldn’t this have happened in summer? Can I borrow your cloak?”
Jessica threw on the cloak without waiting for Willow’s approval and managed to shove her feet into her boots. This next task left her at a disadvantage. A native of Orygin might feel confident pinpointing areas within the topography where a sacred spring might flow. But she had nothing to go on other than her fae instincts and knowledge of earthly geography.
Unsure of her next move, Jessica hurried outside and considered the sluggishly flowing river. “That’ll do.”
Careful not to slip, she held her arms out for balance and jumped over rocks towards the small rapids. Her teeth sank into her lower lip with each step, nearly drawing blood.
Winter-weary plants, black and wilted, drooped along the banks as icy waters pummeled them. Green shoots grew between the dead fingers of waterweeds. Spring couldn’t come soon enough.
Teeth clattering, she tugged on her shift. It left much to be desired in regard to providing actual warmth. Goosebumps broke out over her body, so she tucked her toes under in the black boots, laced to mid-calf.
She ran a finger along the raised scar scoring her face, vivid and red from the cold. What would Braum think of her? Would he still want her? He hadn’t seen her since the morning after their marriage and everything about her had changed. Everything.
Orrin never seemed to mind her appearance, but he hadn’t known her any other way than scarred and possessing magical powers.
Already chilled through, she rubbed over her arms and sat on a large boulder. The moment her bottom touched the icy rock, she yelped and shot back up.
“I brought you this.” Willow raced forward, carrying a quilt from their bed. She wobbled over the slippery rocks and handed it to her.
“Thanks, you saved my ass.” Jessica folded the quilt over itself, ensuring maximum insulation.
“Literally,” Willow added with a smile. “Now get going, it’s late.”
Sure enough, the moon had crested, and they still had a lot to do. Jessica sat on the quilt and took a deep breath before reaching her fingers into the frigid stream. She didn’t know what else to do. As icy water hit bare skin the air in her lungs seized. Teeth clenched, she closed her eyes, faded, and followed the river.
It didn’t take long before a waterfall came into view. Not having any other lead, she followed the water up to where it cascaded from a crevice carved into the mountain. Her eyes widened as she ducked through. Stalactites hung low over a large pool of water, fathomless, ancient, and calmly flowing towards its inevitable plunge.
***
Orrin stepped into the yard and saw Willow on the banks of the river, one arm wrapped about herself, the other holding a lantern. He’d regretted leaving things unspoken earlier and had come back to talk to Jessica. She needed to know his intentions were honorable.
His gaze followed Willow’s line of sight to the rapids. “Jessica!” he cried and raced forward. Willow called out. He slowed, but didn’t stop, didn’t blink. Jessica, otherworldly and desirable as sin, needed him. The light from Willow’s lantern cast a rosy glow on her ice-pale cheeks and… hand in the fucking water.
Before he jumped into the river, Willow grabbed his wrist. She led him to the porch. His gaze stayed fixed on Jessica, vulnerable in the thin shift, her legs clutched together at the knees, ending at the boots with butterflies stitched into the leather. The boots he’d given her.
Willow tightened one of the many scarves around her neck, and said, voice guarded, “Mystia’s your sister, and I’ll never trust her so long as I live. But in the last months, you’ve proven you aren’t anything like her. So, you should know—”
“What’s going on,” he demanded.
In hushed tones, she told him about Jessica. That she’d originally come from Earth to marry Wycliffe, escaped with Braum instead, and unknowingly spoke the marriage spell with the dwarf prince, a spell that resulted in her becoming possessed by magic.
“Where’d the magic come from?” He eyed Willow, vein pulsing in his forehead. Her freckles stood out in the moon’s glow. “And why doesn’t she look like a changeling?”
Willow explained her theory about the loosed magic latching onto Jessica. Then snapped her fingers and let the glamour fall away. For the first time, Orrin saw Jessica for her true self—a changeling. A human transitioned to dwarf. All breath left him in a rush. He’d never known such immediate
sorrow mingled with desire for a woman.
“Goddess, why didn’t you tell me all this before? I’ve been coming around for months now. Doesn’t Jessica trust me?” He laughed, a harsh sound in the quiet and brushed his ginger beard. “I’d come back to apologize and ask to court her.” He’d envisioned them happily married on the walk back. No, truth be told, he’d envisioned them in the marriage bed, their naked bodies entwined, enjoying the afterglow of hot sex. But she was already bloody married!
Willow said nothing.
He cursed himself for a fool, then blurted, “The prince is dying. A contingent of independent witches actually offered their aid, only to have the queen turn them away, saying magic did this to her son, and she wouldn’t allow them near.”
“We know he’s dying. We were hoping to get a potion to him.” She nodded to Jessica, shivering violently. “She won’t give up, so I guess I won’t either.”
Even wearing warm outerwear, the night’s chill bit his flesh. Orrin pulled his fur-lined cloak closer to his face and looked heavenward for guidance.
Willow rushed to explain their plan. “Help us,” she pleaded, grabbing his arm.
Without hesitation, he agreed. A piece of his heart shattered, knowing he hadn’t a chance with the glorious fae dwarf. But it mended quickly as he resolved to fight for her. He’d grown to care for her over these months, loved her quick wit and easy smiles, and couldn’t get enough of her sensuous body. Yes, he’d help for her sake and not the dwarf’s, but wouldn’t give up on her just yet.
***
This is it, Jessica thought and tested the limits of what her magic could do from afar. She lifted a teacup’s worth of water into the air. The water clung to itself, a contained droplet.
She nodded and dropped her hand from the frigid river to her lap, sparing it a quick glance. Stiff and—lord, what was wrong with it? She shuddered. The consequences of using such powerful magic were high, but she couldn’t worry about it right now.
Luckily, finding the crystal had taught her a lot, and she summoned the droplet to her. As she waited, her teeth clattered hard enough she feared chipping a tooth. Her entire body trembled, but finally, the water skidded to a stop directly above her upraised hand, hovering in anticipation.
She glanced over at Willow, imploring her with a look when she saw Orrin, the vein in his forehead showing his irritation. Too cold to consider the implications, she reached out her frozen hand to him.
CHAPTER 25
Orrin splashed through the river and gathered Jessica’s cold body in his arms. She hung limply as he rushed to the cottage, somehow managing to keep the water aloft though her arm shook from the effort.
“We’ve got to work fast if he’s as bad as you say,” Willow said, following behind, quilt in her arms.
His concern focused on Jessica, Orrin didn’t respond. He kept her close, wrapped within his cloak, letting his body-heat ease the frost that’d enveloped her. Only the hand that balanced the water remained exposed.
Willow darted in behind them, grabbed a copper chalice, and held it under the water as it broke free of Jessica’s grasp. It splashed in the cup, and Orrin cursed inwardly. Willow was too good at her Craft. She’d chosen copper specifically as it wouldn’t adversely affect the water.
With both Jessica’s hands now free, Orrin drew them under his shirt. He jumped at her icy touch against his bare skin. Willow puttered around in the background, but he paid her no mind, cradling Jessica until their eyes met. There was a tenderness in his gaze, he knew, but couldn’t hide. Now to convince her that she was meant to be with him.
She burrowed closer, avoiding his scrutiny. Her fingers brushed the hair on his chest, searching for warmth, but inadvertently inflamed his senses when she grazed a nipple with a sharp nail. Shudders wracked through him, and his throat tightened. Goddess, he wanted more. But her fingers curled inward, avoiding any further contact.
“My f-f-feet are cold.” Her frozen nose brushed against his warm flesh where the ties of his shirt had fallen loose.
He stifled a yelp and gathered her tighter. “Just your feet? Feels to me you’re one human-sized icicle.” The red stockings and garters, he’d given her, caught his eye, hanging from the hearth. And a sudden flush heated his cheeks. What he wouldn’t give to see her wearing them, and nothing else.
“I’ll put your stockings on,” he said and pulled the boots from her feet, letting them fall to the floor with a clatter.
“What the hell?” he snarled, his eyes darkening at the carvings seared into her flesh, visible beneath the sagging bandages.
“Worry about that later,” Willow said from behind. “They’re looking better already.”
With excruciating care, he slipped a stocking over her toes, passed a slim ankle, and beyond calf and knee. The more he touched, the more he wanted to touch. He lingered over the strong lines of muscle in her thigh, his large hands spreading over soft skin. But he shook his head and pulled away, chastising his wayward cock for jumping, and rushed to pull the other stocking on, just managing to tie the garters.
Jessica looked like she wanted to laugh but held her composure. She stretched her feet as close to the flames as possible, avoiding his gaze.
Could she feel his hunger? His ache to nestle in the curve of her neck? If only she’d put her hand on him one more time… He swallowed a groan. Just thinking about her touch aroused him until he burned.
Willow poured hot cup of tea after hot cup of tea down Jessica’s throat until she was warm enough to move. And while still in his arms, Jessica covertly studied her left hand.
He scoffed at the attempt to hide the changes she’d undergone from him. All her fingers, save the thumb were a shocking blue. She was morphing under the use of powerful magic.
She shifted against him and inwardly he cursed, searching for some semblance of self-control. But despite his best efforts, he felt himself grow to prominence. Her soft bottom, pressed tightly to him, rendered discipline obsolete. She must feel him; must know he wanted her.
When she suddenly grew still, he knew she felt him. But the fact she actively tried not to move, only inflamed him more. She knew he wanted her, and he ached to press his heated flesh against her, let her feel his brawn.
The pulse in her neck jumped. She turned strawberry from the tops of her breasts to her forehead then slipped off his lap.
His eyes hardened. What did it matter if she knew he’d gotten hard for her. It wasn’t a secret he wanted to make a life together.
Love had hit him and hit him hard. She was so unlike the posturing women he’d courted before, always scheming, trying to marry the son of a council member. Jessica was simple, uncomplicated… No, he brushed a hand over his beard, turns out she was incredibly complicated, a new-born fae dwarf married to the dying, dwarf prince.
“You’re an amazing woman,” he blurted suddenly, trying to dispel some of the unease between them. He stroked her cheek, brushing the edge of the brutal scar. “Whatever happens, I want you to know I’ll be there for you, and more—”
“Thank you,” she interrupted, grabbing his fingers within her chilled hands. “Thank you for never judging me because of my appearance, and for what I can do, and for being my friend. If things were different. If I’d never met Braum…” She drew up and brushed a soft kiss across his cheek.
Her hair brushed his face, and he relished the scent—like the wind blowing over a meadow. His heart soared at the touch of her lips, only to crash as her words sank in. She’d never be his. All-consuming despair overwhelmed him. He cupped her face and took in her gray eyes, moist with unshed tears.
Then, unable to stop, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers. She tensed, but he pulled her closer, angling his mouth and crushing her soft, unbound breasts against his broad chest. He needed her to feel, if only this once, his feelings for her.
His heart soared when she didn’t immediately jerk away. Jessica was everything he yearned for. In his arms, her mouth dancing with his—
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Willow cleared her throat, and they hastily drew apart. “I don’t mean to interrupt, but we are trying to save your husband.” She emphasized the final word with a sharp tap on the table.
Jessica stood in a rush. “Right.”
The moment was rife for change. If she’d only choose him, instead of the dwarf. If she’d only acknowledge the feeling so evident between them and reject what she thought she wanted, placing her own happiness—and to be fair, his— first. His heart skipped as she stood there a long moment.
Gray eyes clear, she flashed him a smile. “You’re too good for me.”
The words hit like a slap.
“And unfortunately, I’ve got this inconsiderate husband to save, who I like a lot despite everything that’s happened.” She squeezed his hand. A gut punch after the kiss they’d shared. “But don’t think for a minute I don’t know what a catch I’m giving up.”
Then don’t do it, I’ll never hurt or deceive you, he wanted to yell, but said nothing, just watched her hurry to the table.
“What can I do?” she asked Willow, sounding breathless.
“Stop kissing men who aren’t your husband, for one!” Willow hissed, carefully measuring something into a bowl. Orrin almost laughed at that but didn’t want them to know he listened, so he tossed another log on the fire and focused on taking calming breaths.
Jessica rolled her eyes. “Sometimes people need affection. I know you’re a heartless witch,” she smiled at her own joke, “but I don’t want to hurt anyone or leave them confused if it can be helped.”
“So, you thrust your tongue into their mouths?”
“There wasn’t tongue!” Jessica threw her hands in the air, dragged a stool next to Willow, and leaned in close. “You should try it sometime. It might warm that frigid heart of yours.”
“Pass. Hand me the Angelica.” Willow turned her attention back to the potion. “Nice fingers, by the way,” she said as if blue fingers were nothing of consequence. But Orrin knew the changes concerned her as much as him.
