Page 14 of This Midsummer Heart (Seasons of Legend #4)

Chapter fourteen

Strong Spirits

Auberon

S

he

told

me

no

such thing.

The moon elves were gracious hosts as always, which included healing me far better than the humans, followed by a proper feast with music, during which they offered their best spirits.

Apparently, Titaine didn’t remember there was a reason she always refused to drink fermented elven beverages.

Two small glasses, and her wings were drooping and she was practically slumped over the table.

I was a perfect gentleman, of course, and immediately escorted her to her room. There was one rather large problem with that, however.

It was also my room. Being that the elves still considered us married and we’d made no special requests for an additional room—or at least I did not, when I could have—we were given a single room atop the winding stair to the boughs, with a tester bed made with coiling iron designs that mimicked leafy vines.

Complete with a burning hearth—for Nerania Wood had a terrible chill at night, thanks to its changes—it was all very cozy.

I deposited Titaine onto the bed, removed her slippers and got her settled beneath the covers.

I took a moment to place a pillow for myself at the foot of the bed, then returned to the supper Daegris had ordered for us.

There, I continued to enjoy the moon elves milky white liquor, and had a long talk with Daegris.

The truth was, I hadn’t wanted a separate room from Titaine. I didn’t trust this Wood any longer. After nearly watching one of those flames engulf her, I knew I would rest easier knowing she was close by—for both our sakes. My conversation with Daegris only confirmed what I already sensed.

Besides, keeping her safe was practical.

For reasons I couldn’t fathom, it was clear Titaine had barely lost any of her magic.

I needed her to get to Nox. And since there was a distinct possibility I’d get to that city with not a coin to my name and not an ounce of power—magical or political—it wouldn’t do to get on the wrong side of the fetes. Fae. Whatever.

But as I’d undressed, hung my chain mail and then began to clean my shirt in the wash basin on the provided toilet table, Titaine had stirred.

“What are you doing?” she demanded. “Put your shirt back on.”

“Until Daegris finds something that will fit me, it’s the only shirt I have,” I replied smoothly. Unlike Titaine, I knew how to handle my spirits. “This one is in dire need of a wash. So no, I won’t be wearing a wet shirt to bed.”

“This isn’t your room,” she said, glancing around, still bleary eyed.

“It’s our room, actually. The same one they gave us years ago. Sweet that they remembered, isn’t it? As I told you, they still consider us married here.”

Her eyes were little more than slits. “Fine. You can sleep on the floor.”

“That’s a giant bed. You won’t even notice me.”

Titaine let out a braying laugh that brought the little trick Robin had helped me play on her years ago to mind. “Of course I’d notice you. You’re very noticeable.”

“Titaine,” I said, enjoying this far too much as I turned to face her fully, sure to draw myself up to full height and contract my abdominal muscles for optimum viewing, “are you saying you find me too handsome to resist?”

“Too something, alright.” She lost her battle to stay upright just then and flopped back to the pillow, her eyes falling shut. “Problems not with your looks. Just—sonality.”

“Oh?” I returned to laundering my shirt. “What about my personality is the problem?”

“Moth like a flame.”

“Moth like a flame?”

“You heard me. Cassandra—what must she think?”

“Cassandra isn’t even here. She’s off visiting Lusida.” I hesitated, wondering how much of this discussion Titaine would even remember. “Daegris and Cassandra are moving their people out of Nerania Wood—the ones who haven’t already left for the City of Nox.”

“‘S mistake,” Titaine mumbled. “Home and…still magic.”

“Not the kind of magic they care to be around.”

“Mistake,” she insisted.

I wrung out my shirt, leaving it hanging on a peg meant for cloaks. With any luck, Daegris would be able to find one of those for me, too.

“Titaine,” I asked as I slid into bed, “are you still awake?”

She hummed in reply.

“Why did you ask me to travel to Nox with you?”

“Protect me.”

“You wanted me to protect you?”

She hummed again.

I’d be lying if I said my chest didn’t swell a little at that. But I had other things I ought to ask her, as long as the elven spirits were making her honest. “And what of your magic? You don’t seem to have lost it.”

“Changed,” she replied. “Maybe gone soon, who knows? At least you’re strong.”

“But you hate me.”

My heart skipped a beat as I waited for her to reply. Already, I regretted asking.

“You hate me,” she repeated. “Broke bond.”

Ah. Not repeating, but answering my question with a change of topic. An intoxicated fae was still a fae, after all.

“I don’t hate you,” I said quietly, watching the even rise and fall of her side of the bed in the dwindling firelight. “I never did.”

“‘S that true?” she asked, almost sounding alert for a moment.

“No, Titaine. I could never hate you. I only hated that you didn’t want me anymore.”

“Wanted you,” she replied, slipping back into a half-asleep state. “But you weren’t mine.”

“I was yours.” I sat upright. “I was always yours. I only ever wanted to be yours.”

Soft breathing, barely audible beneath the crackling of the hearth, was my only answer. It was pointless, anyway, trying to have a serious conversation with an inebriated fae.

“You told me how big and strong I was, and how you wanted me here to protect you,” I tell Titaine, watching as her cheeks change from rosy pink to scarlet.

Titaine shifts uncomfortably on the bed, pulling the sheet up to her chin despite the growing heat and humidity in our treetop bedroom. Now that night is through, summer has apparently returned to Nerania Wood.

I let her pretend to be busy while I finish washing up and dress for the day. I wish we could stay another, but we can’t let the bandits get too far ahead. They are on horseback, after all.

This is a fool’s errand. We’ll never catch them. At some point, Titaine will have to accept that Giselda is gone.

When I am through, I tell her I am off to see if Daegris Silverbeard has found some spare clothes and supplies for me.

I’m not worried about Daegris being abed after drinking too many glasses of spirits; the man barely sleeps, despite being of low elf blood, and he can handle his liquor after years of gleefully upholding pirate stereotypes.

“Wait here,” I tell her. “I shouldn’t be long.”

Titaine offers no reply.

I open the door to a completely changed Wood. The treetops are bustling, despite Daegris’s assertion that many of their people left for Nox in the last year. Lunevelle is as busy a city as ever—even if it is because the surroundings towns and villages have emptied into this protected city.

I am surprised by the number of moon elves who bow and hurry past me as I descend the confusing connected spirals of the treetops.

It’s a little strange, seeing so many moon elves out at this early hour.

They usually favor the dark. But since that is no longer safe, there seem to be plenty of elves hurrying to do their laundry in the tributaries of the River Talone or descending the city in the trees with bows or empty baskets for harvest.

They’re adapting,

I think, as we all must.

But still, they do not think it enough.

It is strange to think of this Wood lost entirely to dark fae and dark creatures, this bright spot of elven civilization vanishing when the last of the moon elves leave. Daegris said they will join Lusida in the Wood she now rules, but it did not sound as though he approved of Cassandra’s plan.

Ever the pirate, he’d rather brave the increasingly wild seas and sail for Nox.

I may have promised him my aid, should we find working runes in that city. But it’s an empty promise, and we both know it. That sort of magic, held together by rules and fixed in place with mystic letters, won’t last long in the outside world.

My heart grows heavier as I reach Daegris’s civic office, low on one of the central trees.

“You’re in luck,” he tells me the moment I stride in. “I found you a good traveling pack, only a little worn and stitched. We have a good number of cast-offs from those who left. You ought to be able to find something to wear, too.”

The office—a sort of antechamber for those seeking to meet with the Lady of Nerania Wood—is shockingly bare. There was a time when it was bustling.

“Where is everyone?” I ask.

“You probably passed them,” Daegris says, a rough edge to his voice as he lifts a crate of clothing onto a desk. “We can’t hold our assistants to normal work hours, now that everything must be done in the light of day. Even a stormy day with heavy cloud cover gets a bit…unruly in the Wood.”

I take a moment to pick through the clothing, almost discarding an oversized tunic with sleeves, until I hear Titaine’s voice, mocking me for my sleeveless traveling clothes. I set it aside, just in case I don’t find anything better.

I’m sure Daegris has scissors around here somewhere.

“I am sorry for it,” I tell Daegris, “for what’s happened to Nerania Wood.” He helps me search through the clothing, occasionally holding up something I’d look ridiculous in and donning a wicked half-grin, but does not reply.

“I’ve sent word to the storehouse, which you’ll find manned by our fussiest elven elders at this time of day,” Daegris says when I’ve found a couple more suitable items; regrettably, I have to plan for cooler weather on the southern continent, and stuff the long-sleeve shirt into my new travel pack.

“No doubt they’ll pack plenty of food for you. ”

“Thank you,” I say, instead of asking whether he can spare it. I don’t think my expression of sympathy sat well with him and his pride.