Page 5 of Mischief Maker

Chapter Four

Faela

I was so careless, so thoughtless. I shouldn’t be punishing Kireth for my mistake. He is a troublemaker, and I had expected it. I knew the stories, the legends my mother and father passed down to me.

It was my own fault.

The next morning, I’m up early to remove the nails. They come out bent and misshapen, but that’s better than nothing. I’ll need these nails to fix the fences, and iron isn’t cheap.

I cover the remaining holes with old boards so the outside air can’t get in and then secure them in place. I need to haul water for us and the animals before I can begin with my other chores.

“Do you need help?” a voice calls out to me as I carry a bucket back from the well. Kireth bounds into view, much like a young deer. He gleams in the morning light, the shape of his strong chest and thick, lean thighs outlined in bright gold.

“No,” I say quickly. I will not waste a task on something as small as bringing in a bucket of water.

“Tend the crops today. That is all I want from you.” Then I correct myself.

“No, wait. Please, water them lightly and don’t drown the new seeds.

” They were the last of what I had, and I can’t replace them.

For a moment, Kireth looks disappointed, but then he nods his head and draws a tally in the air. “Ninety-six.” He skips away, though his back and shoulders are stiff.

I should not have made him find his own place to sleep last night. I was just... angry. Angry, mostly at myself, for being so thoughtless with my task.

What had I thought? That an immortal would be on my side? He is here only because he’s bound to be, chained by whatever agreement he signed when he was created.

I wonder briefly how gods are born. Did he come from another one, even greater and older? Who tied him to the whims and desires of mortals?

A little too late, I hope that I have been specific enough today with my request. I can’t afford for Kireth to teach me any more lessons.

I take care of the livestock myself, milking the cows and gathering all the eggs, though not nearly as efficiently or productively as Kireth had.

I sprinkle feed and fill troughs. Still, knowing I do not have to do the watering myself makes me feel looser, freer, than I think I’ve felt in months.

Perhaps there will still be time at the end of the day to do some more repairs on the house.

There’s an old tiller I’ve been meaning to fix, either to sell or to use.

It does me no good sitting around, but I’ve never had time.

By afternoon, Kireth is finished with his task. He lounges around while I finish my work, simply staring at me. It’s unsettling, but eventually I forget about him as I muck out the livestock pen.

“You have ninety-six tasks left,” he calls out. “That’s a lot, isn’t it? Hmm?”

Propping myself against the rake, I wipe the sweat from my forehead. “What else can you do? I’m not going to waste tasks on mucking stalls.”

He tilts his head. “Are you asking me to come up with my own job?”

As if I would be so foolish now as to give him that sort of liberty.

“No, I’m asking what else you’re capable of doing.” I have a ridiculous question, but what harm is there in asking? He is a god, after all. I remember how he simply appeared the other morning in a puff of smoke. “Can you do... special things? You know, um, magic?”

His widening smile is like the sun’s warm rays after a harsh winter. His teeth are all perfectly white and straight, his tongue bright pink as he licks it over them, and that spade tail is going wild behind him.

“Yes,” he says, hopping to his feet. He walks toward me with a kind of animal grace, precise and nimble. “I certainly can do magic .”

Suddenly he’s much closer to me than I expected him to be. When he leans down, a little bird in my chest flutters its wings, faster and faster until his nose stops mere inches from mine. His bright red eyes burrow through my skin to the vulnerable flesh underneath.

“And what would you like me to do with my powers?” he asks in a purr.

My throat closes, preventing any words from coming out.

This near to Kireth, I can smell him, and it is a marvelous and remarkable smell that reminds me of woods, of a hunter spearing his prey, of a horse’s soft nose.

But it also contains a flavor even stranger than those familiar, earthly things.

The scent stirs a small, forgotten nest in me, in a place I’ve only felt awakened a handful of times.

Those few times, I ducked a hand under my blankets and tended to my own needs.

“Hmm?” When I still haven’t spoken, Kireth leans even farther forward, so his face glides past mine. His mouth pauses at my ear. “Can’t take your eyes off me, can you?”

I jerk back. “That’s not what I was doing!” I put a good few feet of space between us, turning my head to hide the hot pressure building behind my cheeks. “I’m just trying to think of what to ask for.”

“Take your time.” He doesn’t seem put off in the least.

My hands are trembling when I finally get myself back into sorts. What was that? It felt like all my senses had heightened, instantly aware of his body, of his every movement. That quiet, building tickle low in my belly unnerves me.

Right, a task. Something I can use to test the god’s powers.

“Can you make the crops grow faster?” I ask at last. I’ve lost so much valuable time this season, it will be sheer good luck if I can harvest it before the frosts.

Kireth smiles wickedly. But there’s something in his eyes that’s not so coarse, not so detached as he pretends.

“Yes. I can do this.”

“Then please.” I bow, as one would to a god. “Please bring me a bountiful harvest, Lord.”

When he doesn’t move, I raise my head. Kireth’s mouth sits slightly ajar.

“You don’t need to speak to me like that,” he says, and by his change in posture, I would say he’s embarrassed. “You hold the rope. It is by your command that I’m here at all.”

And I still feel guilt for it.

“I know that I’m the one who summoned you, but you are still something beyond me.” I study him, those supernatural horns and gray skin. “You are greater, higher, and more powerful than I am. It would be foolish and disrespectful to forget that.”

Kireth’s face twists in a way I can’t comprehend. Then he turns around and stalks away, tail lashing irritably behind him.

“I will do as you ask,” he calls over his shoulder, voice gruff. “Ninety-five tasks left.”

Kireth

Most of the mortals who summon me are eager to take advantage of me.

They know they will have a god under their thumb for the duration of my obligation, and they use their tasks gleefully.

It is an incredible power, after all, for a human to have for a short time.

Especially if they figure out the secret, like Faela did: that I am capable of more than just the mundane.

I will use my magic for her. Not too much, but just enough to impress her. Just enough, perhaps, to make these struggling crops flourish.

It’s been a long time since I called on my small pool of power. It’s not much in the way of magic, not when compared to the older gods, but it’s all mine. What I want to do will drain me, but I will rejuvenate tonight, especially if Faela allows me to sleep inside the house.

I want to be let back in. This is how I will make sure she keeps the door open for me.

Kneeling at the first row of seeds, I bring my hands down to the soil. When I sowed yesterday, I spent more time with this strange, darkened dirt than I wanted. It is peculiar and seems to host almost no nutrients. It’s as if the life has been sucked out of it.

Waking up the seed sleeping deep in the ground takes more magic than I expected. The tendrils of my power reach for purchase, for sustenance, but I find little there. Still, I manage to raise the seed up and up until it sprouts, the leaves unfurling to the sky.

By the time I have finished with the new crops, my well of magic is nearly depleted. I didn’t intend to use that much, but these plants were resistant to my help. Something is very wrong here. Unfortunately, I do not have the arcane understanding to determine what.

I understand soil, plants, sunlight, and water. I know how to mix all these ingredients together to ensure success and plenty, as I have worked in many fields in my long life. But somehow, whatever is wrong with this place escapes me.

This soil is dead, spent, useless. I think of Faela describing the way her mother went. First her hand, then her body. Everything it touched died .

Has the earth somehow died, too?

Perhaps if one of the ancient gods is still around, one of the great ones like my mother, they would know what is wrong and what to do about it. I suppose that if Faela has not forgotten me, perhaps my mother is still lurking in her temple, too.

Not that it’s my responsibility to fix this awful place. I have completed my task, as wrung dry as I am. Green sprouts have emerged all up and down the new rows. I believe Faela will be pleased with the work I’ve done.

I do not expect exactly how pleased she is.

“Kireth!” When she sees it, she flings her arms around me in pure, thoughtless joy. It reminds me of a child just given a highly coveted toy. “I can’t believe it. That you did this!” Then, as if finally realizing what she’s done, she peels herself away from me and rubs her cheeks. “Sorry.”

I do not mind it in the least, but I don’t need to tell her that.

“You doubted my abilities?” I say instead.

She flushes even harder. “No. Well, I guess... I didn’t know what to expect. But oh, this!” Her arms spread out in front of her, as if she’s embracing the rows of green sprouts. “This is marvelous.”

Her glee radiates out of her in warm, delicious waves, and I’m caught up in them. My fantasy from last night springs back fully formed, and I think of what other pleasures I could give her that would earn a gasp like this one.

Instantly, my cock twitches under my loincloth. I try to tell it to hush, that now is certainly not the time, but it is strangely disobedient.

“Good,” I huff. “I’m glad it meets your expectations. Is that all for today?”

Her smile falters. “Yes. That’s all.”

I turn around quickly to walk away, hoping to hide the rather lascivious tent under my loincloth.

“Oh, Kireth?”

I remain fixed, keeping my body angled away from her line of sight. “Yes?”

“I’m sorry about last night. The bed, if you want it, is all yours.”

Bah. She is a kind soul, if obtuse. I just grunt and walk into the house, too aroused to even look over my shoulder in her direction.

With my magic so exhausted, my body is ready to rest. I don’t bother to invent an excuse to stumble up the stairs and fall into the bed.

With Faela still outside, I stroke my cock just long enough to spurt out across my belly, thinking of her while trying my hardest not to think of her.

It’s enough of a release that I can fall asleep.