by Sofia Daniel
I turned from McVittie to Pokeweed, hoping one of them would provide more information on what happened on that terrible afternoon. “Why do they think I’m dead?”
“I made a changeling from your hair and blood,” Pokeweed whispered.
The word sent a shiver down my spine. Back in the days of Queen Maeve, before the magic that required a faerie to obtain an invitation to enter a human dwelling, faeries would steal human babies and leave behind a replica made of sticks.
On first inspection, it would look like the baby, but over time, the changeling would lose weight and become sick before finally dying. Only when the child was buried in consecrated ground would it revert back into a bundle of sticks. By then, it was too late to get the child back, as it was already acknowledged as dead.
I stared at my lap, trying to push away my revulsion.
“Don’t judge Pokeweed,” McVittie snapped.
“I’m not—”
“It’s in your eyes,” said the cat. “How can such a nice faerie know such wicked magic? I can see you thinking it.”
“McVittie,” said Pokeweed, his voice filled with exasperation.
“No!” The black cat walked up the bed and batted my arm. “Lady Gala was furious about not being able to extract something from your insides. I risked my life, distracting her and the princes, and Pokeweed risked execution by stealing you away.”
Swallowing hard, I glanced from Pokeweed’s fathomless black eyes to McVittie’s slitted, yellow orbs. “Thank you.”
The cat gave me an approving nod. “You owe us.”
“McVittie,” shouted Pokeweed in a tone that made me jump. “Leave.”
His mouth dropped open, exposing sharp, white teeth. “But—”
Pokeweed pointed at the arched opening. “Go.”
Without another word, the cat jumped down from the bed and padded out of the room.
“I’m sorry about him,” said Pokeweed.
“He’s right.” I placed a hand on his bicep, which was covered in white overalls. “I owe you my life.”
Usually, at this stage, Pokeweed would pull away and mutter something self-deprecating, but this time he relaxed into my touch.
“I wasn’t sure if you would survive at first, and then you remained in that dream for so long…” He squeezed his eyes shut and sucked in a deep breath.
“Well, I’m here now.” I slipped my hand down the soft, velvety fur of his forearm and into his large hand. “And I’m grateful you never gave up on me.”
As we locked gazes, I noticed that Pokeweed’s eyes weren’t the solid black I’d initially thought. Ebony lay where there should have been whites, with irises the color of the midnight sky. When he looked at me, I felt as though I was the most precious being on the Isle of Fae, and the effect was mesmerizing.
“Has the willow bark eased your pain?” Pokeweed’s eyes dropped down to my chest.
“Yes.”
“I need to remove your poultices,” he whispered.
“Poultices?”
“There’s one on each side of the wound.”
My throat dried. Lady Gala had skewered me through my spine and then torn my stolen jacket open and stabbed the space between my breasts. “Oh.”
“Sit up,” Pokeweed rasped.
I pulled myself up to sitting, and the sheet slipped down my front and settled over my hips. A corset of bandages wrapped around my chest in a tight band.
“May I?” Pokeweed’s large hands brushed down my spine.
Heat rose to my cheeks, but I managed to nod.
Leaning forward, I gave Pokeweed space to undo my bandages around the back. I thought it would be a slow unraveling, where he would peel each strip of bandage from my body, the way Mom used to wrap us with boiled rags when we were young, but Pokeweed hooked his fingers under my bandage and tore. What I had originally thought was cloth was actually the kind of crackly paper that covered garlic bulbs.
Pokeweed pulled something warm off my back, leaving the patch of skin it had covered to pucker in the slight draft. When he placed it with a thud on the bedside table, I turned around to find that it was a poultice wrapped in bandages that had turned black.
“What’s in it?” I asked.
“Sea salt and warming herbs.” He placed a warm, damp cloth over the site of my wound and rubbed gentle circles. “By the time I found you, the Winter Court magic had seeped into your blood and slowed your heart.”
“I remember feeling the cold creep into my veins,” I whispered.
Pokeweed stepped back into sight. “There’s another poultice at the front.”
My throat dried, and the arms holding the front of the bandages to my chest clamped onto my sides. Taking off the last poultice would leave me bare-breasted. Pokeweed must have seen me while tending to my wounds, but this time I was conscious.
“Right.” I raised my arms, but the bandage didn’t fall off.
He slipped his fingers beneath the bandage, skimming the sensitive skin on my sides. When he pulled, it wouldn’t come loose, so he had to run his fingers over the part of the bandage that covered the tops of my breasts.
Jolts of excitement skittered through my sex-starved body. I sucked in a deep breath, trying to calm down my reaction. This was a medical procedure. I hadn’t gotten aroused with Healer Tarax. My pulse didn’t need to quicken under Pokeweed’s touch, and heat didn’t need to pulse between my legs.
Pokeweed was my friend—nothing more.
His heavy breaths joined mine, the sound of his excitement sending heat flooding my core. The bandage stuck to my skin, and Pokeweed’s fingers slid further down my breasts. I bit down hard on my lip, wondering if those large, thick fingers would skim my nipples.
“It’s stuck,” he murmured.
“Yes,” I whispered.
As Pokeweed’s hot fingers worked the bandage loose, the pounding between my legs quickened. My folds became slick, and I squeezed my thighs together, hoping he wouldn’t notice my need.
The bandage came off, and a cool draft tightened my nipples. With a deft movement, Pokeweed peeled the poultice off from my front and spun around.
“It’s done.” He handed me a warm cloth to wipe the residue from between my breasts.
Pulling the sheet up over my exposed chest, I murmured, “Thanks.”
Pokeweed stepped away from the bed, robbing me of a chance to study his expression. It was hard enough to see what he was thinking or feeling underneath all that fur, but the stiffness of his back and the tight set of his shoulders only spoke of restraint.
“I will return in a moment with a fresh poultice,” he replied as he walked out of the room.
My heart spun like an out-of-control sycamore seed and the muscles of my core pulsed. As Pokeweed strode through the mezzanine with the used poultices, I ran a shaky hand through my hair and blew out a long breath. That had been… dangerous.
Tiny footsteps padded into the room, and McVittie leaped onto the bed. The cat’s eyes blazed with fury. “What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing?”
I reared back. “Huh?”
“You think I can’t smell it?”
My lips tightened. Did this old man masquerading as a cat think I made myself aroused on purpose? “Mind your own business.”
McVittie glanced over his shoulder, presumably for signs of Pokeweed. I balled my fists, ready for a fight.
“Oh, no you don’t,” he hissed. “You’re going to rescue those princes, mate with them and use that wishbone to free Pokeweed and me from our curses.”
“That’s what I’m trying—”
“You were doing the cat equivalent of sticking out your rear end!” he snapped. “Well, let me remind you that curses go on for generations. Mate with a cursed faerie, and your children will be cursed.”
My brows drew together. “McVittie, did you mate with a—”
“Never mind that!” The cat gave me three sharp raps on the thigh. “While you’ve been sleeping here like a princess whose pea
rolled onto the floor, that bloody Gala has been hatching plans to form a mating bond with your princes.”
“What’s she done?” I asked.
“She’s put blocks on her friends’ magic, and now all three of them are in the remedial class, not just the one who got turned into a spider.”
I nodded. That was the least those three girls deserved after what they did to Helen. “What else?”
“She went to the remedial class and boasted to Lady Gazania that she’ll mate with all four brothers by Beltane.”
“When’s that?” I asked.
“In seven days.”
A boulder of dread dropped into the pit of my stomach, and I gaped into McVittie’s little face. Normally, I would say that such a feat was impossible. Female faeries went into heat every four years, and Lady Gala couldn’t be older than eighteen.
But then this was the faerie who had slaughtered a unicorn and traded Helen’s magic for a chance with the princes. And goodness knows what she did to turn them against me this time.
“Are there any enchantments that can force a female into heat?” I asked.
“None that aren’t ridiculously depraved.” McVittie settled onto my lap. “Pokeweed checked all his books. He can’t find anything. I’ve rifled through Gala’s room but can’t find details of her nefarious plans.”
Pokeweed returned with a white gown slung over one shoulder, holding a tray of poultices, and a steaming bowl of water. I flashed my eyes at McVittie in a silent message for him to leave, but the wretched little beast stared up at me with defiance blazing in his eyes. He probably thought we needed a chaperone.
“This will hurt a little.” Pokeweed walked to the side of my bed, balancing the two large poultices on his palms. “I’ve removed all traces of the curse, but something might come out while I’m healing your wounds.”
“Alright.” I sat up and let the sheet slide down to my hips.
McVittie padded to the end of the bed and sat.
A breath heaved out from Pokeweed’s broad chest and through his parted lips. I stared up in his eyes and only saw the reflection of a bare-breasted, blonde faerie whose iridescent wings fluttered but didn’t glow.
Maybe Pokeweed also saw the same thing because his slack expression morphed into a look of determination, and he pressed the poultices on both sides of the wound. “Unity, I’m sorry.”
“What fo—” Needle-prick sensations stabbed through my insides, sending jolts of pain across my torso and down my limbs.
It was like the worst kind of electric shock. My arms and legs flailed, knocking McVittie off the bed with a yowl.
Pokeweed held me in place, whispering words of encouragement. I clenched my teeth, wondering why he hadn’t performed this during the time I was unconscious, but a deeper, red-hot poker of agony burned me from the inside-out.
Moments later, the pain subsided, and Pokeweed stepped away, leaving me slumped on the bed. With a muttered apology, he hurried out of the room.
McVittie jumped onto the bed and curled up at my side. “Pokeweed is a powerful male. I can see why you’re so eager to mate with him.”
I wrapped my arms around his warm, furry body and inhaled the cat’s meadowy scent. “We’re just friends.”
“Yeah,” muttered McVittie. “Keep it that way unless you want to birth a litter of moths.”
A yawn pushed my mouth open, and my watery eyes fell shut. Right now, I needed to focus on getting the wishbone.
The cat twisted around and placed the pads of his front paws on my chin. “I’ll let you sleep that off, because tomorrow, we’re going to train you to use your magic.”
“Alright,” I murmured.
“But first, we need to capture the Summer Prince.”
Chapter 4
The next morning at dawn, Pokeweed and I ate a breakfast of curds and whey with berries and dandelion coffee. Then he took me up a spiral staircase to the highest level of his treehouse.
What I thought was a skylight was actually just an opening in the tree with branches all around it like a crown. A half-moon shone down from an indigo sky with clouds streaked crimson by the rising sun.
Still staring up to the sky, I asked, “What happens when it rains?”
“The tree absorbs the water. It’s a living thing.”
Nodding, I marveled at the tree’s splendor.
“I’m going to teach you to fly,” he said.
“Oh.” I turned my gaze a hundred feet down to the ground floor. The old me might have gotten vertigo at this stage, but I’d flown with faeries and jumped from the palace’s tall tower. Experiences like that were enough to turn a girl’s fear of heights into dust.
Pokeweed and I hadn’t spoken about the incident with the bandages. What was there to discuss? If it was meant to happen, he would have made a move, but he didn’t. Pokeweed needed me to break his curse, and the only way I could do that was if I mated with all four brothers and obtained the wishbone.
I climbed the railing and balanced on the ledge. If we had kissed, it would only lead to more, and I would never get round to rescuing the princes.
Pokeweed placed his large hands on my waist. Warmth seeped through his fingertips, making my nerve endings zing.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“Jumping.”
“Without training your wings?” he asked with a chuckle.
My shoulders deflated, and I stepped down from the ledge. “I thought little faerie children just flew?”
“I didn’t.” His lips tightened, and he turned his head to the side. Pokeweed’s brown and orange moth wings made an annoyed flutter.
“Was that because of the curse?” I placed a hand on his bicep.
He exhaled, and his muscles relaxed as though my touch could calm his nerves. “It’s hard to tell, but my wings were always underdeveloped for my frame.”
Without thinking about it, I trailed my fingertips over the edge of his wings. Pokeweed’s eyes fluttered closed, and he sucked in a breath. Instead of the petal softness of my wings, his were covered in down, similar to the fur covering every inch of his skin.
“Am I hurting you?” I asked.
“No,” he said, his voice tight.
“They look in proportion to me.”
Pokeweed wrapped his fingers around my wrist and gently pushed my hand back to my side.
“Sorry.” I gave myself a slap upside the head. What was it with me and touching Pokeweed?
My lips tightened. Even though my destiny was with the princes and physical closeness to Pokeweed wasn’t fair to him, I still couldn’t leave the poor faerie alone.
“Why don’t we practice flying?” he said with a gentle smile.
I smiled back. “How?”
Pokeweed stood behind me and placed a large hand on the space between my wings. Warmth seeped through the thin fabric of my borrowed nightshirt and surged up to the base of my skull and down to my tailbone.
The pleasant feeling slid across my folds and settled into my clit. “Oh!”
“This infusion of my magic will relax your wings and teach them to listen to your commands.” His warm breath heated the side of my face.
I swallowed hard and slowed my breathing down to hide another bout of excitement. If Pokeweed knew the kind of effect he had on me, the poor guy would make an excuse and fly away.
“What’s next?” I whispered.
Pokeweed’s hands wrapped around my waist, making my heart flutter. He lifted me off my feet and instructed me to flap. Maybe it was his magic or the fact that a much powerful faerie was commanding my wings to obey, but they swept up and down using the same kind of rhythmic movements as other faeries’ wings.
Soon, my wings propelled me six inches into the air.
“Well done.” His fingers tightened around my waist. “But I don’t think you’re ready for flight just yet.”
We continued practicing my wing movements with Pokeweed’s gentle hands stopping me from flying too high. My heart soared. For on
ce, I felt like a faerie instead of a human trapped in a beautiful body with wings.
The patter of little feet echoed up the staircase. Mcvittie emerged from around the corner with a yawn. “It’s nearly time.”
“Time for what?” I rubbed the aching muscles at the top of my wings, wishing that Pokeweed would dig his large, warm thumbs into my tendons.
Yesterday, the cat had mentioned something about capturing Prince August, but I’d put that thought aside and fallen asleep.
Now, with him prowling toward me with determination shining in his lamplight eyes, I wondered if he meant capturing his heart instead of an actual abduction.
“We’re going for a little walk.” McVittie gave me a tap on the side of my leg. “I want you to scope out a location as part of your mission to get the wishbone. Is that alright with you, Pokeweed?”
He nodded. “Before you leave, I’ll darken your hair color and change your wings to black and red. The enchantment will stay in place as long as you don’t fall into saltwater.”
“Good thinking,” said McVittie.
The morning sun hung low in the sky, casting a golden hue over the orchard. McVittie and I walked side by side through the trees, our silent stroll only broken by the birds’ morning chorus.
We stopped at the knucker pool, where I stared at a reflection that looked a little more like my former self - the mahogany shade of hair was closer to my original mousy brown, and my eyes were as blue as a summer sky.
McVittie led me through a meadow of shoulder-high, pink dandelions, whose seeds floated into the air before exploding, and through a forest of gnarled trees with trunks that looked like scowling, old men. The thick canopy of leaves rustled in the wind, adding to the creepy atmosphere.
“What is this place?” I whispered.
“Queen Maeve’s High Council.” McVittie jumped on a high root and scaled a twisted tree with a knot that resembled a nose. “This used to be an amphitheater. The court leaders gathered here to impress the queen.”
My mind skipped back to that wonderful night with Prince Bradwell at the source of his Spring magic. “Aren’t there only four courts?”
