by Misty Kayn
"For the services rendered."
"Thank you."
"Welcome. Arthur thinks you're an imager, so that’s in our favor."
Now was as good as time as any. "What does he have to do with rampion and the vines?"
"How do lilies glow brighter?"
She pinched her lips.
The wolf peeled back his. "We'll rest after this and have a loooong talk."
"You know exactly what's happening with the rampion.”
"Arthur is confused,” Knight said, cracked his neck to the left then to the right. "But, he'll get better soon and it'll all be over."
"He didn't look confused to me, he looked angry."
Knight crossed his arms over his chest and widened his stance. She whipped her braid off her shoulder and gripped the edge of the high table, knuckles white. The nature of prey demanded she quit while ahead, avoid confrontation, and take flight. Always flight and Clementine honored her nature. Her dove went against nature almost every time and even though she cowed before him at the market, now, dove’s feathers ruffled. With a male like Knight and his overbearing wolf, she kept her head, didn’t give into her bird so when his wolf flashed in his eyes, she changed tactics and said, "You two were very passionate about killing each other."
Knight shook his head. “I wasn't gonna kill him."
"I'm going home."
"Don't threaten me, girl." He groaned and leaned forward, his head in his hands. "Fuck. My head's gonna explode and I'll give you anything you want if you shut up and wait."
"I want to clunk your big head with my cast."
He shook his head and a chuckle escaped him. She didn't think Knight ever laughed though he’d smiled at the dove in the market, revealed his soft side. Maybe she should cross to bird and climb on his shoulder, she mused.
"Clementine!" The healer barged in.
Knight covered his ears.
Clementine smiled.
Clearance, a dark haired, tanned skin man two fingers taller than her, was an efficient extrovert. He wore a simple, white on white cotton attire with black rubber shoes.
"Back again, my dear," he said and enveloped her in a hug. His white coat carried sterile magic like soap and cleaning supplies, and his goatee tickled her ear when he whispered, "With the man of our lands. My, my, your momma must be in town, lining up the suitors."
"He can hear you," she whispered.
His eyebrows wagged up and down. "Aaaaaah." His mouth opened wide.
She mimicked him and he examined her throat, his eyes glowing pale yellow. "Goodies. Accelerated healing tonight. A bit is necessary, unless you want a pain killer." Walking to a cupboard, he opened a drawer and pulled out a thick wooden horse bit about the size of her knife.
"A bit is fine." She didn’t take painkillers, she didn’t have coins, and Clearance overpriced his magic. But Clearance might as well be tilted The Healer. Worth every coin, she told herself, when he stuck a wooden bit into her mouth. Her teeth dug into the wood, saliva pooled at the sides, a pretty ugly sight when she turned on her side and drool spilled on the white towel under her cheek. Knight would leave them alone wouldn't he? For some privacy?
"She'll take the anesthesia too," Knight said.
She shook her head and lifted her hand.
Clearance shrugged and rummaged through his drawer. When he found his tools he placed them on a metal tray on the counter. Hands up he brought forth his magic. Mist accumulated over his palms, white as her hair, the healer’s magic was almost as calming as the new imager capsules. Knight’s head thumped back against the wall, Clementine’s muscles loosened. Calm washed over the room. A happy place.
She closed her eyes when his two fingers pressed on the base of her spine. A pang of magic lashed out. Clementine jolted forwards and back when a hand landed on her shoulder. Her body shuttered, locked in place. Magic coursed through her like warm blood and spread all the way down to the tip of her right toe.
"Just a prick," he said.
Clementine rolled her eyes in the back of her head and clamped on the bit in her mouth. Her stomach rose, threatened to spill.
"Is she always like this?” Knight said.
"Like what?"
"Green."
"Anesthetics make some people sick."
"I need her healed not sick."
Drawers opened and closed. Moments later Knight covered her with a blanket and sat back in the chair.
She breathed deep, pulled the soft wool blanket over her head, and let the magic settle over her broken bones to numb the lower half of her body. She heard but didn't feel when he removed the cast and when the bones cracked. The healer’s magic soothed and tempted, she wanted to guide it towards her head as he massaged her leg, pressed on the skin, and pushed the magic at the two broken points.
Clearance worked past dinnertime.
Clementine drooled, tried to nap but the grand drummers in her head wouldn't let her. Oh, the headache.
“All done,” he said, took a cloth and wiped the sweat collected beneath his goatee then walked to the counter.
Leg healed, Clementine sat up. It was so strange to see them both again. She bent her knee and groaned into the bit. She took the chew piece and aimed for the small, plastic trash bin. Hit! Score! The bin wobbled, fell, and spilled the garbage on the floor. Clementine sighed and swung her feet over the table but Knight propped the trash with his foot.
"It's sore but should be well overnight. Here." Clearance passed a bag to Knight. "Massage oils on both legs and hip area, once late at night for three nights. Capsules for pain as needed."
"You're selling your magic," Clementine said.
He turned, blush colored his cheeks. "Imager showed me the packaging technique, and before you give me a lecture on selling magic, I should tell you I only do it by need. Daylanders called it prescription."
"What's it mean?"
"It means you can have enough for a few nights only, not more. Capsules make people woozy and they're addictive."
"So why do you sell them?"
He leaned against the counter. "I'm always on call and I need to rest. They help me and my patients."
"I have a gigantic headache." She spread her hands. "Like this big. And, my bones hurt in a gigantic way." If Knight minded paying extra coin, he'd say something. So far he went along with Clearance.
The healer nodded and opened the cupboard above the sink while Clementine stared at Knight.
His eyes narrowed as he tried to read her mind. "A cast landed on my head."
Clearance sighed. “Needs people, needs, not wants.”
Still, they walked out of the healer’s, well, and stocked on meds they needed for a stroll through rampion-rotted gardens. The smell was awful.
SIX
The sweet, spoiled flower scent lingered in the air as they made their way out of the clinic and to the two-horse carriage. Knight's hands on her hips, he helped, or rather threw her up on the bench. She landed on her bottom with a thud. He climbed after her, lifted his chin to the sky and checked the time with the star. "It's late. Ya!"
A man in a black, hooded robe, dipped his head in a greeting as they passed him by, a dim glow in his eyes betrayed his casual stroll farce. The Imager, a man nearing fifty starlights, of average height and slender build with spiky black hair and narrow black eyes, worked the gardens. He chanted, whispered magic as he walked along the road, his hands pushing out illusions like a tidal wave. Magic pulsed from his hands and covered these parts in all directions.
On both sides of the road, healthy green bushes replaced sagging gardenia, the trees grew green leaves, roses moved upright and opened halfway, and even the purple rampion thrived healthy. Lilies, planted every five steps along the narrow paved road, glowed their way into the night and showcased the beauty of the Nightlands. The horses calmed with each thump of their hoofs.
"Where're we headed?' Clementine whispered into the quiet night.
"Bed and breakfast then Cole's."
"Who'
s Cole?"
"Someone who knows where Arthur lives."
Knight promised a long talk, so she asked. "Are you after Arthur?"
"We are."
Knight was moody, had asked for quiet, his eyes puffy from the headache, lips pinched tight. Beside him, Clementine nodded and remained silent during the ride.
The star had dimmed well into the night by the time they reached their lodging. Knight guided the horses to the left, up the small rocky hill with much less greenery then down the main road. Large rocks and polished pebbles with yellow, white, and green wild flowers growing in-between, covered the area around the hill. On top of the hill was the bed and breakfast, a cute two-story red brick cottage with white shutters and a green-coned roof that sat on top of the cottage like a hat. Six smaller, red brick, ground level cottages with roofs in different colors were spaced on the red meadow around the main house. Rocks and flowers surrounding the property posed as a live fence.
A stable girl ran up to their carriage and took charge of the horses. Clementine and Knight, backpacks in tow, walked into a large room of about ten by ten steps. The room was lit with white glowing roses that hung from the ceiling. A white leather sofa and a small table before it rested against the sidewalls. At the end of the room was a business desk.
A woman with flowers in her hair wearing blue cotton shorts and a beige silver button blouse jumped up from behind a small, wooden reception desk and tripped over her heels as she speed-walked towards them. "Knight! There you are." She gripped his biceps and squeezed then patted the one next to Clementine, her hand possessive, familiar. "You've brought a..." she glanced at Clementine and, unsuccessfully, hid her frown.
Too hungry to care what the woman thought of her, Clementine smiled. She didn't eat lunch and they were at the healer’s during dinner. She rose on her toes, craned her neck to see behind the receptionist's flowerbed hairdo. Past the desk, through a large open door, she spotted a room with two rows of tables. A man in an apron over a black-white checkered uniform and a tall white hat came through the door. He carried a small, oval tray. Fresh baked goods breached the rose scented reception room. He placed the tray on the woman's desk. Clementine's stomach rumbled.
"Ina, how are you?" Knight kissed the woman's cheek.
Clementine excused herself and went to the tray. Small, half the size of her palm, round baked crusts with cucumber and cheese as well as some raw meat decorated the tray with presentation in mind. A very nice Bed and Breakfast, judging by the light fixtures and the mini treats for the guests. Knight was all teeth and smiles for the flower-bed hair girl and he'd be there for a while, so Clementine rolled her eyes and picked up a cucumber-crusted item. She opened her mouth, treat nearly there.
"Dinner time has passed," the woman remarked. "Those are for Daylanders with no care for our star."
"She's with the clan."
"She doesn't look like a wolf."
"What's a wolf female look like?" Clementine said.
"Respectful."
Clementine followed the rituals of the star in the market only to avoid the confrontations with folk. But at home, she and Seven ate snacks in-between the three big meals signaled by the blinking of the star, and sometimes even ate those out of order. The woman enforced, or at least expected observance in her Bed and Breakfast, so Clementine dropped the crust back on the tray. She didn't want to embarrass Knight and argue since he seemed to know this woman quite well.
"I’ve news," the receptionist said, and turned her smile back at Knight. "Arthur came by and chatted a bit." She walked behind her desk and swiped her hand over the lightwood. Knight rolled his shoulders, but didn't show emotion, and Clementine followed. When he didn't approach the desk, Ina leaned to read the yellow words and numbers hovering above the wooden desk.
The woman touched one letter and flicked her fingernail. The words rearranged into an image of a pink roofed cottage and her lips pursed in distaste. "Your reservation, is that correct?"
"Thank you," he said, and approached the desk. He took the entire tray of food and placed it under his arm like a sack of potatoes.
The woman's eyes narrowed. "So it's true you've mated."
"Did Arthur send for wine?"
She stabbed her long fingernails on the desk and Clementine thought she might just break them. "He booked a full package. I didn't know, and you could've told me about this...this news."
"She's a bird and sings me to sleep."
Ina’s eyes sparkled, magic rushed to her irises. Desire.
"Oh thank you, Knight." Clementine grumbled under her breath. Her first impression was not only that of a flimsy, odd girl, but now she was also a bedroom bore who sung him to sleep. At least he took the tray with food. That was something.
Knight tugged her braid then threw a hand over her shoulder and guided her outside.
She inhaled the fresh wild flowers and said, "She thinks we’re mated. Are you using me to avoid bachelor freedoms?"
"Yes." He squeezed her shoulder, walked to the right.
The side where their bodies touched tingled. "We should've asked for pregnancy pills from the healer. Plant the rumors, order a big white cake with pink bows."
"Possibly."
"Ha, ha," she said.
"Your humor pounds my head."
They walked past a red, blue, another blue and then arrived at the door of a pink roofed cottage. Knight barged inside.
Clementine lingered. "Arthur arranged for us to stay here, aren't you worried he'll attack while you sleep?"
"No, he's telling me he knows I'm after him and what resources I have at the clan's disposal."
"We should use some of mine then."
"Believe me, we're going to."
"You make it sound like a threat."
"You coming inside?"
She sighed and closed the door behind her.
The cottage was painted soft pink with a strip of grey wallpaper that ran around the middle of the walls. A large bed that fit three, dressed in pale grey with sensible pink lace on the decorative pillows, dominated the center of the room. In the left corner was a small bath-pond next to the unlit fireplace. A breakfast table and two chairs blocked the fireplace, still a summer arrangement because in the winter they'd need the warmth and the table was in the way. On the right was a large open window.
She walked to the window and beheld the gardens. A few couples strolled the paths, weaving their way through recently planted beds of niler, a native flower of the Nightlands similar to the sunflower of the Daylands but for the black colored petals. Above, towards the tips of numerous hills, the red meadows seen from the valley rose closer here.
"Use the bath first," he said, and pulled her back with the sound of tickling water in a room made smaller by his mood. He reached into his pack and found yet another headache capsule, his second since the eatery. He broke it and brought it to his nose. His shoulders relaxed and he sat in one of the wooden chairs at the table, his back to the pond.
Clementine had taken her medicine in the carriage and now her headache was a dull drum in the back that would leave by tomorrow early.
Standing behind him, she unbraided her hair and undressed, not that she was shy, but with his back to her he observed boundaries of intimacy. And these were intimate quarters. Knight played nice with the singing bird.
Rumbling sounded in the silent room. She placed her hand over her stomach thinking of the delights he’d brought. As soon as she bathed, she’d eat.
She bounced inside the pond. "Oh! Brrrr." She shivered. "Should've been a penguin."
She made fast work of washing her hair with rose soaps and oils, wanting to hurry and eat a bite before bed, though the soap smelled wonderful and deserved an entire night of leisure. If the water hadn’t been freezing cold.
Four white towels lay folded on a small wooden shelf above the pond. She took one and started drying her hair. Knight’s shoulders slightly slouched, he relaxed now that the headache receded. How often did he bring women
here? He seemed at ease and although he’d given her privacy, it was clear that the harem rumors were true. He slept around.
Clementine didn’t bathe with a stranger in a small cottage every night. A wolf, Nightlands leader no less. It was surreal.
SEVEN
Dry hair and body, Clementine stepped her left foot on a small white bath rug. On the way, once her headache subsided, she’d resolved to make a clown of herself with acceptance of tales and said, "Arthur's magic is primal isn't it?" It wouldn’t be the first time. Clementine, the strange bird they called her.
"You didn't eat lunch or dinner."
"Been busy." She dried her right foot and reached for her dress.
"I forgot to feed you," he said, disbelief in his voice.
"Is that what you do for the clan? Worry about when and who eats?"
"They're mine."
"I'm not yours so don't fret."
"If you're with me I'm responsible for you, and I do not fret."
He fretted.
She pulled her long brown dress over her head and arranged the fluttering around her ankles where the seams failed. She needed a new dress. Had she known nights ahead of time that the big wolf would take her in the gardens, she'd have bought a new one.
She sat across from him and picked up a crust from the tray. He didn’t eat, not even the meat decorated ones. "Who takes care of you? In the clan, I mean." The crunchy crust with cold, fresh fish and red smooth cheese wrapped in a thin slice of cucumber tasted delicious. She filled her mouth with another.
His face, illuminated by the wildflowers floating in a small, oval bowl of water on the table, slightly titled to the left like he thought about the answer. Maybe he didn't need anyone to care for him. Or more likely, a harem of wolves cared for him. Clementine chuckled. Maybe he expected service from her, too. Any girl would for Knight, most coveted bachelor and she didn't mind being of use, he paid for all their expenses not to mention a very high healer's bill. "I'll get you something to eat." Napkins forgotten at the desk, she wiped the crumbs on her dress. "But I doubt there’s dog food in this place. Or maybe you special order. Shall I get you something to eat?"
