Chapter 96: Cirn goes to the festival
Cirn kept to the rooftops as she followed her gut into the town.
And told herself she wasn’t looking for Jul.
After the huntress had left, she’d had a familiar tug in her gut of something happening. So, despite her misgivings and nerves that had frozen her veil to a stiff board in the winds, Cirn had braved the festival.
Well. She had tried.
Cirn had lasted for all of five minutes before she’d panic-iced at least one pair in the throes of their pleasure and took off into the sky.
She wasn’t a prude, per se.
She was just… uncomfortable around those so free with themselves.
Cirn had covered herself since she was young, much like her mother before her. Knights did not strip themselves casually, and both her and her mother’s beauty was distracting for their charges. So even with just the face covering removed, she felt naked enough to lose control over her magic. She couldn’t imagine participating in all of the… acts… that she was definitely not watching.
And was not thinking of a certain fire fata as she watched the flexibility of—
Nope, nope, nope—
Physically shaking her head, she took a couple steps back from the ledge and closed her eyes, concentrating on the tug in her gut that had weakened considerably. Without allowing her mind to drift, she took off, quickstepping from roof to roof as she chased after it.
Closer. Closer.
There!
She stopped, dropping into a crouch to peer over the edge of the roof at the shaded alley as a familiar masculine voice threatened, “You fuckers try that shit again, and I’ll burn your faces so badly not even your own mothers would recognize you.”
Two fey scampered off into the night as Cirn stared, wide-eyed, down at Jul.
Jul? Her instincts had brought her to—
Jul turned around, crouching down to place his hands on his knees. “It’s alright. Sorry about the food they took from you… I’ll get you new stuff, promise.”
Cirn had to shift herself slightly to see the small woman step out of hiding. Her movement on the rooftop gave Cirn away instantly, Jul’s eyes snapping up to meet Cirn’s and making her freeze. Their intensity set her heart hammering in her chest and her cheeks burning unnaturally.
Fated.
She swallowed.
Ever since their magic had touched, she suddenly couldn’t put him out of her mind.
She couldn’t be fated. Fated mates were for special fey like Lord Prince Ranin, or Queen Annabelle and any of her fated.
And yet.
Jul opened his mouth to say something before the little woman shifted, murmuring something quietly, and he turned his attention back to her.
Ignoring Cirn.
Cirn slowly lowered herself to sit on the roof, listening to their conversation, her fluster fading into the background as she did.
Jul said softly, “I understand, but I was the one who ruined it. Please, let me at least buy you new ones.”
A pause. A murmured voice.
Jul crouched back down and smiled, stealing Cirn’s breath all over again. It wasn’t just the handsome features, but the kindness evident under it. Openness. He wasn’t hiding himself.
He never had.
“It’s alright. Let me guess—you stole it?”
The woman fell into a low kowtow.
“Hey, hey, it’s okay, promise, I won’t tell anyone—” his eyes flickered pleadingly up at Cirn before returning his attention to the small fey. “Look, I—others? There are more of you?”
Cirn leaned in, but even with all of her senses, she couldn’t make out the murmured words.
Jul’s jaw slackened in shock. “A hundred—” He dropped his head, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well… look, I’m friends with some—uh, fey—who might be able to help. Why don’t I get you some food to take back, and then you can show me where they all are?”
There was a longer back and forth, with Jul having to gently cajole the fey into agreeing. Cirn couldn’t seem to move. Couldn’t take her eyes off him.
She’d never seen him be so gentle before.
Fated.
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It wasn’t until he managed to get the small fey to come into the light of his flames so he could look over their bruises that Cirn realized he had been speaking to a greenling.
A greenling with shoulder length hair. Too long to be Athereon.
There were more of them?
Cirn jumped down, and despite suppressing her aura and landing silently behind them, the greenling still clocked her, the woman’s instincts almost as sharp as Athereon’s. Cirn was momentarily impressed.
Then her eyes scanned over the fey’s ragged, dirty clothes. A sight she wouldn’t have looked twice at in the Capital she found herself unable to dismiss now.
The words exchanged earlier hit her as Cirn lifted her eyes to Jul’s. “She said… a hundred of them?”
Jul nodded tightly. “We should probably let the huntress know.”
“She left for the hunter’s clearing.”
“Either one of us can get there in ten minutes if we try.”
Cirn dropped her eyes back down to the hunched woman who had taken up a subservient position behind Jul’s hip, hiding from her view.
That stung.
But she could fix it.
Maybe.
Cirn said, “Wait here,” and took off in a quickstep.
Less than a minute later, Cirn returned with several kebabs, using her magic to keep the sauce from falling onto her clothes. When she appeared, the greenling flinched back towards the shadows, giving her pause.
How had Jul managed it? Their power was well matched, and yet the greenling didn’t fear him.
After a beat of hesitation, Cirn squatted herself down much like Jul had done, trying to emulate him. Her execution ended up far more awkward than his natural soothing tones, but Cirn pressed forward anyway, holding out the skewer to the greenling.
“Here.”
Jul failed to suppress a small laugh that had her blushing again. Determined despite his interruption, she waved the kebab in front of the greenling more insistently.
After another moment of hesitation, the greenling reached out, accepting the gift with her eyes downcast and wary. Then she stared at the meat before seeming to decide to risk a glance up at Cirn’s face.
Cirn nodded, feeling stilted and awkward when the greenling didn’t immediately start eating the food.
Perhaps she was trying to save it for some reason?
She held out the other skewers in her hand. “I have more.”
“… yes, my lady.”
Cirn nodded, handing her the other kebabs before taking a step back and straightening. She told Jul, “I’ll go to the clearing. Wait for me here.”
Jul smiled, the expression softening his features. “As you wish.”
She hesitated, wanting to say something to him.
But what?
The moment hung for three beats too long, stretching out the discomfort of it.
Realizing she was unsure of what she would say even with the extra time she took to think, Cirn took off for the clearing, hoping that she could catch Athereon and warn her that there were a hundred greenlings roaming around Everwinter looking for food.
Bartos rubbed his eyes. He should make an appearance tonight. He should.
The greenling Dusty, seated across from him on the furs, considered the man for a long time before dropping his gaze and saying, “I was hoping she’d be more of an ally in this.”
Bartos dropped his hands, staring down at them as he let his tired mind drift, a touch of irritation breaking through his usual façade.
Dusty had the decency to wince, shrinking back into himself a little. “I mean no disrespect towards her, my lord.”
Bartos’s vision shifted regardless, his wolf furious at anyone who might disparage Athereon. He managed to coax his other half down, the tension disappearing from his body with a deep sigh.
Kenna was the one to break the somewhat awkward air. “Don’t write off Athi just yet.” She placed a hand on Bartos’ shoulder, drawing his eyes to hers as she gave him an encouraging smile. “Besides. We both know she could never actually abandon them.”
He warmed, a true smile easing itself onto his face. Yes. Athereon was too good of a fey to ignore those in need.
Ba’il’an’s eyes darted between them before he asked, “You two know something I don’t.”
Kenna eyed him with an icy smile. “Naturally.”
His face paled significantly.
Just then, Bartos’ eyes rose to see Zhadin as their torso appeared out of the shadows, their expression entirely bland with disinterest as they intoned to Dusty, “She says to do your gods damn duty and feed your people next time before more of them get cornered.”
Bartos surprised Dusty by barking out a single loud laugh.
Dusty paled just as Zhadin then disappeared without another glance back, likely returning to the huntress wherever she was.
Kenna let out an exasperated sigh, shaking her head. “How much you wanna bet this was somehow the Whims?”
“Hm.” Bartos didn’t answer, but he had the thought before that her divine beast would be a perfect godly channel to deliver the instincts a greenling would, according to her, normally lack, wondering if she had noticed this or not.
In fact, he was rather disappointed that he didn’t get to talk to her much at all. She had responded to his social letter, yes, but her reply had been strangely disappointing. Distant. A report she wrote with even less enthusiasm or detail than usual, being less than a page long.
It had been disheartening, and he’d been wondering if his own letter had been an inconvenience.
Interrupting his thoughts, Dusty said quietly, “Greenlings do not feel the pull of the Whims.”
One corner of Bartos’ lips tugged up, the tiniest smug smirk.
The man stared him down before his eyes suddenly widened. “No shit. She has?”
Bartos didn’t answer him, merely taking a sip of tea Kenna offered. On the risk of accidentally hurting Athereon’s trust, he didn’t want to spill anything he didn’t have to.
But the slight smug smile still escaped his normally impeccable control.
Utterly baffled, Dusty said, “How?”
Bartos took another sip of tea. “Are your people situated for the night?”
Dusty sighed, dropping his head and saying, “… yes, but I should check on them. Travel rations have been rather tight.”
Bartos sighed and nodded, making a mental note to send for Telos in the morning to discuss how to expand this time.
Zoln said, “I assume you are comfortable enough for me to take my leave, then?”
Bartos waved him off. “Yes. Kenna, would you—”
“Yes,” she answered with a playful smile.
He relaxed.
She pressed a finger into his forehead, pushing him back. “Rest. I’ll have you make an appearance at the festivities and make sure your new ward remains safe until morning.”
He captured her fingers, the gesture automatic. Instinctual.
He just didn’t know why he had.
A flicker passed through her eyes, and for the first time, Bartos saw the hurt she buried under a playful smile.
Before he could gather his thoughts, she stood with a sigh. “Alright. Let’s go see to your people, Ba’il’an. Or should I call you Dusty?”
Dusty stood, stretching as he did. “Either works. I’m trying to remove the stigma we have towards our birth names.”
That caught Bartos’s attention, remembering how very protective Athereon was over her own name. How it had prevented others from granting her unwanted titles. His mind slow with exhaustion, he didn’t speak until they were at the door. “Call him Dusty.”
They paused, turning back to look at him curiously.
He turned his attention towards the pixie. “I suggest asking Athereon her thoughts. If she knows the secrets that you do not, her wisdom might enlighten something you have missed.”
A thoughtful expression entered Dusty’s eyes, and he bowed politely in gratitude before exiting out into the night.