by Kaylee Rymer
Smiling, she looked to her right, and her heart lodged in her throat. Weegel was gone.
She jumped to her feet and stepped out into the snow. Shielding her eyes against the sunlight, she searched the forest, but there was no sign of him anywhere.
Just as she was about to call his name, her gaze landed on a footpath. Heart pounding, she followed the trail and found him standing before a frozen brook.
He was unnaturally still.
“Weegel?”
Weegel turned, and an impassive mask stared back. No muscle moved on his face, and his eyes were distant.
“Are you all right?” she asked.
He blinked several times and moved his head back towards the brook. “I feel fine.”
His voice lacked life, and it made her shiver.
She walked up beside him and stroked his cheek. His skin was cold to the touch, and she pulled back. “Weegel, you’re freezing!”
“I am?” he asked without inflexion.
She took off the fur he gave her the night before and wrapped it around his shoulders. “Weegel, you idiot. You’ve gone into torpor!”
He barely seemed to register her words and continued to stare at the brook.
Ivora rolled her eyes. Ancient worcogs often went into torpor when their bodies were exposed to harsh temperature. It was how they survived freezing conditions for so many centuries, but their bodies still had limits.
There was no point in arguing with him now; he wasn’t himself. All his emotions were buried away deep inside.
She took his icy hand and led him back to the mountain. The best thing now was to get him warmed up. Hopefully, he would be back to his old chipper self by this evening.
IVORA MADE WEEGEL A hot bath when they arrived. It took her a good few trips to the river which she had to crack to get to the ice-cold water beneath and boil on the hearth.
Weegel gazed at the tub in silence when she finished. Steam swirled from the water, calm and tranquil, and Ivora was half-tempted to jump in herself.
“Well, there you go. One hot steaming bath,” she said.
He started to pull off his cloak. Ivora watched absentmindedly.
“Do you mind?” he asked, looking her way.
Her face flushed, and she covered her eyes. “Oh... of course not. Continue.”
“I meant do you mind leaving the room?”
“I... was just about to leave.” She headed out the door, silently cursing herself. How could she be so stupid?
“Hold on... On second thought, I wouldn’t mind the company.”
Ivora turned back, surprised. “You really want me to stay?”
His eyes sparkled with amusement. “Pull up a stool.”
Ivora grabbed a stool and averted her eyes. His clothes dropped to the floor, and she took deep breaths, trying to distract her thoughts.
He climbed into the bath and settled down. “You can look now.”
She looked around.
Weegel leaned back against the tub, eyes closed in relaxation. Steam swirled around his face, making him shine with sweat, and the top of his chest was just exposed. Well-defined muscles flickered before the firelight, and the blood pumped hot through her veins.
“My eyes are up here, Ivy.”
Ivora jumped and placed a hand over her heart. It thrashed like a caged animal, and she faced the other way. “I wasn’t looking.”
“Sure, keep telling yourself that.”
She narrowed her eyes. A small smile played across his lips. At least he was starting to act like himself again.
The fire crackled to their right, creating jittering shadows across the cave. Water splashed her way next, and she spun around. “Don’t do that.”
“Well, talk. You’re the worst company ever.”
“Well, there’s not much to discuss when you’re sitting naked three feet beside me.”
Weegel rolled his eyes. “I’m up for talking about anything. Baths are boring.”
“All right, I’ll think of something.”
She chewed her lip. It was best she made the most of this. Weegel was rarely open to conversation, preferring to keep things to himself.
Well, not anymore.
“How about this? I ask you several questions, and you answer them honestly. No more secrets. No more lies.”
Weegel bolted upright and wrapped his arms around his legs. “You wicked little thing... You planned this all along, didn’t you?”
Ivora smiled devilishly. “Maybe.”
He frowned and lay back down in the tub. “Fine. Ask away.”
“Who raised you?”
A dark shadow formed across his face. “Next question.”
“No. Tell me. I have my own theories anyway, but I want to hear it from you.”
He glanced her way. “What theories?”
Ivora straightened. “You speak the common tongue. Other magical creatures shun you. They hate humans, but you like them. My conclusion — you were raised by humans.”
Weegel cocked a brow. “I don’t like humans.”
Ivora’s heart fell. “Well... you like me, don’t you?”
He blinked a few times, his mouth agape. It seemed she’d left him tongue-tied. He sighed. “If I tell you, will you stop with the questions?”
“No.”
He groaned and rubbed his forehead. “Fine. I was raised by a farmer and his daughter. Happy?”
“A farmer and his daughter?” She tilted her head. “So, was the daughter like a mother or a sister to you?”
“Mother. The farmer I called Grandpa.”
“Do you still see them?”
Weegel shook his head, looking straight on.
“Did something happen to them?”
He closed his eyes. “You’re treading too far now. On with the next question.”
Ivora pursed her lips. “Do you remember anything about your old family? Other worcogs?”
“No. I was with the farmer and his daughter for as long as I remember. I have vague memories of a different woman. A worcog woman. She had red hair like mine and a beautiful face.”
Ivora sat there a moment, lost in thought. What could have happened to make Weegel the last worcog?
“Any more questions?” he asked.
She met his eyes. “Yes. Who were you talking to in the alleyway?”
“You don’t want to know.”
“I think I do.”
“I said no.”
Ivora ground her teeth. “Fair enough. Then what did you want to tell me last night while we were dancing? I know it has something to do with what Bannog said in the shop. You’re keeping something from me.”
A crease formed between his brows. “Not now. Later... I promise.”
She nodded, taking his word for it.
“I guess we’re done?” he asked.
Ivora tapped her chin. “Who do you talk to at night?”
Weegel’s eyes protruded and he jumped up to his feet, dripping water everywhere. “Bath time’s over now.”
Ivora fell sideways off the stool, shielding her eyes. “Weegel! What are you doing?!”
He climbed out of the bath, collected his clothes off the floor, and padded out the room completely naked.
She lay on the floor gasping for air.
Why didn’t she cover her eyes fast enough? Now she would never get the naked image of Weegel out of her head.
Yet why wasn’t she overly concerned? Had a part of her been curious enough to look?
An image of his wet naked body rushed through her mind, and she bit down on her lip.
What would her dear mother think?
IVORA FOLLOWED WEEGEL up the tunnel.
A few hours had passed since the bath incident. Ivora had hidden away in her room, trying to convince herself that she did not see a thing.
The steam had been playing tricks on her eyes. That was it. She never really saw Weegel’s surprisingly toned physique, or his...
“Hello?”
Ivora startled at t
he sound of Weegel’s voice. “Did you say something?”
“I said hopefully we have clear skies tonight. Clean your ears out.”
She scowled at the back of his head.
An hour ago, Weegel had turned up at her room and announced they were going star-gazing, and it wasn’t an option.
Apparently, there was going to be a meteorite shower tonight.
A gust of icy wind took her breath away when they reached the end of the tunnel. They arrived at a cliff, overlooking the hills below.
Ivora did a double take.
Great sparkling clusters encompassed the entire night sky. Not a single cloud to be seen as Weegel hoped.
“It’s so beautiful,” she said.
Weegel sighed. “I know. One of the perks of living in the north. Maybe we’ll see some shooting stars.”
He started setting up his telescope.
A light shot across the sky, and Ivora’s heart jumped. “I just saw one!”
He chuckled. “Amazing, hey.”
“Truly.”
Ivora craned her neck and lost herself amongst the stars. It was like sailing across a sea of lights. With each stroke of the oar, the lights would swirl aside, pushing her further into the unknown.
“What’s out there?” she asked.
A squeaking sounded on her right. Weegel had finished setting up the telescope. “Why don’t you find out?”
Ivora tore her eyes away from the sky and glanced at the instrument. It invited her over, tempting her to discover what lay beyond. “I’ve never looked inside a telescope before.”
Weegel leaned against the wall. “Well, try it.”
Apprehensive, she peered into the eye-piece, and the night sky amplified. New stars flashed before her, bigger and brighter. The world beyond the sky truly was unfathomable.
“What are they?”
“A combination of stars, asteroids, planets—”
Ivora gave him a scathing look. “It was a rhetorical question, but thank you, anyway, mister genius.”
Weegel arched a brow. “I was only trying to help.”
“Well, you could start by telling me what a planet is?”
His face froze. “You’re not serious?”
“Very. We’re not all as learned as you.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose. “You really need to get your nose out of those fairy books. They’re other worlds, like ours.”
Goosebumps spread across her skin. “Other worlds? You mean... there are other people out there like us?”
“Maybe. Hopefully, they’re better than the people on this godforsaken planet.”
Ivora skimmed her eyes across the sky, experiencing the universe in a whole new light. Could there be another girl like her out there, watching her own night sky? What would she even look like? Ivora’s head swam with possibilities.
Weegel came up beside her. “One day, we may find out what’s out there, but until then we’re stuck here.”
She turned to him. Sadness flickered across his eyes. Did he hope there was a ‘planet’ that would accept him for all his differences? A world without prejudice, if it existed, would be a wonderful thing.
“Thank you for bringing me out here tonight,” she said, trying to lighten the mood. “I’m really enjoying myself.”
Weegel returned her smile, but it never reached his eyes. “Glad to hear it.”
He wrung his hands nervously.
“Weegel?”
He sighed. “I think it’s time I finally told you.”
Her stomach dropped at his dire tone. “Go on.”
Weegel shut his eyes. “You remember when Bannog and I were talking yesterday in the shop?”
A shiver ran up Ivora’s spine. “Yes.”
“He’d told me some... some really grave news... earlier that day...”
He squeezed his eyes, straining to get the words out. Ivora put a hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay. Tell me.”
Weegel gazed back up, tears shining in his eyes. “It’s about your parents. I’m... sorry.”
A sharp prick pierced her lungs, and she struggled to breathe. Her head reeled, and she lost focus.
“W-what?” she whispered.
“They’re gone. The king... he...” Weegel couldn’t finish.
A huge blow to her chest sent her flying back against the wall. Frantic breaths escaped her lips, and she buckled to the floor.
Weegel caught her in his arms.
“No,” she cried. “No...”
“It’s all right. Just breathe.”
Yet she couldn’t. She seemed to strangle as something clogged her throat, and her vision swirled.
She collapsed into Weegel’s arms, and a strange sound burst from her mouth. It echoed through the surrounding woods, loud enough to be heard from one of those distant planets above.
All the while Weegel shushed and crooned words of reassurance, and she buried her face in his shoulder.
“I love you, Ivy,” he whispered. “You’ll always have me, I promise.”
She held him tighter, losing herself in his pine scent. “I love you, too.”
25. Weegel
The deer emerged from behind a tree.
Weegel drew his arrow. Just one shot and his morning hunt would be over. And then he can return home to the girl who never smiled anymore.
A familiar heart-wrenching tug returned to his chest, and he closed his eyes. She stayed in her room all the time now, and Weegel was beside himself with what to do. It was strange territory. After spending so many years alone, Weegel had forgotten how to act human. As ironic as it sounds.
He’d cast off his humanity the moment he’d left town and his mother forever. Gone was the boy who once cried over the death of a caterpillar. He’d listened to all the townspeople’s cruel jibes of how he was a monster, a demon, and wholly embraced them.
But now he had been rendered useless in the art of compassion.
Telling her he loved her had been a spur of the moment, a means to cheer her up, but it hadn’t had much effect; it may have even put a strain on what could have been a flourishing relationship. Of course, she confessed her feelings too, and Weegel was completely overjoyed. But the happiness was short-lived, for Ivy had soon shut him out, keeping all her thoughts and emotions locked inside.
What he would give to crack her open and set her free; what he would give to see her laugh and smile again.
Weegel looked up and gasped. The stag gazed straight into his soul, its shiny black eyes wide and petrified.
He tightened his hold on the drawstring, heart pounding.
White steam escaped the deer’s nostrils, and it backed away into the forest. If he didn’t shoot now, he’d lose his chance. It had been weeks since he’d seen a deer, and it could be several more till he found another.
It wasn’t a big male, probably a yearling, but it would be enough to last him the winter.
The yearling hardly had antlers, just a pair of velvety spikes, its first set. No extra branches or spines to be seen.
The deer’s black eyes glistened next, and a tear fell over its cheek.
Weegel shook his head. Was he hallucinating? It had been a while since he got a good night’s sleep, after all.
He looked back at the deer, and a pair of green eyes stared back, the exact same as Ivy’s.
It was no use. He saw her face everywhere he went now. How could he hope to kill an innocent creature when it looked at him with the same eyes as Ivy?
The deer still stood there as frozen as a statue.
Weegel grabbed a rock and threw it at a nearby bush. The deer scampered off as he watched its white tail disappear into the forest.
What was he going to do now?
WEEGEL STOOD OUTSIDE Ivy’s room, a bowl of steaming porridge in his hands.
A lonely wind drifted up the tunnel, and he gave a shudder. Rosemary had taken a back seat since the night of the blizzard. She had faded to whispers now, and he was more than happy.
Henry,
however, appeared to have stayed. Weegel could feel him, flapping his wings and giving him strength, and with it came hope for a brighter future.
The little moth fluttered inside him again, and he took his first step into the cave, doing a double take.
Ivy was out of bed, painting the wall.
“Ivy?”
“Hm?”
He moved closer to see what she was painting. Goosebumps spread across his flesh at all the depressing brown and black. It looked like a mosaic of sorts, but it made no sense. She seemed to be painting with no focus in mind, and he shivered again. Ivy usually painted with a purpose, a clear direction, and always in the most vivid blues and greens.
“I’ve... brought you breakfast,” he said, hoping to attract her attention.
She ignored him, continuing to paint around a luminous white swirl. It was the only bright colour to be seen on the whole wall.
Weegel’s stomach twisted when he got a good look at her face. She looked even worse than yesterday: gaunt cheeks, shadowed eyes, and cracked lips.
And she was covered in black paint. It stained her hands and cheeks, and even her hair.
“Put the brush down and eat your porridge.”
“I’m not hungry,” she said.
Her voice sounded dull and gravelly. Gone was the sweet melody that once sent his heart into a spasm.
“Ivy. Put the brush down. You need to eat. Starving yourself won’t bring your parents back.”
Her painting became frantic, and she drew another creepy white swirl.
Weegel yanked the brush from her hand. “Ivy!”
Her eyes shone an ominous green, and then she snatched the bowl from his fingers and smashed it against the wall.
Weegel covered his face as the porcelain shattered. Ivy remained still, completely unperturbed by the ruckus.
He ground his teeth. “Fine. Suit yourself!” He stormed out of the room, eager to put her behind him, but he turned back the last second.
Ivy started trembling, releasing a strangled sound from her lips, and he rushed over and took her in his arms. “It’s all right,” he whispered, stroking her hair. “I can make more porridge.”
