Traps, Tricks, and Beasts [Book 2 Complete][Fantasy, Adventure, Underdog]

When Squirt opened her eyes again, it was to violet eyes.

Her own fluttered shut again in relief and safety.

Wait.

She scowled, her voice hoarse as she said, “Pest.” He’d kept the bright pink of his hair, but his eyes must have faded back to his natural violet.

And her first instinct was safety and relief?

Nope, she was not reassessing her sanity level. She opened her eyes once more to tell him off only to freeze. The sheer, radiant joy on his face stunned her into silence.

Genuine tears formed in his eyes as he said, “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

For the briefest instant, she wavered, believing him.

Then the memories came flooding back and she scowled, banishing those tender feelings from her heart. With a snarl she grabbed his face and shoved him away. Based on the surprised expression and the fact that she had made contact, he hadn’t expected that reaction.

All the better. In his surprise, he tumbled off the infirmary bed she was laid out on. Her eyes scanned the area, a sharp gleam in them as she oriented herself.

She’d never been to an infirmary.

There were over two dozen other fey in the beds around the large room, a variety of healers moving around and attending to each one. On the other side of the room, she caught sight of Jezalin, her head bowed over a patient, her hands faintly glowing.

Squirt rubbed her eyes, exhausted and almost tempted to roll back into the covers. Whatever healing she had been put through had drained what little energy reserves she had.

Throwing off the blankets before she could think better on it, she shifted, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed when her body was moved back into the bed and the sheet pulled over her legs by invisible hands.

She stared uncomprehendingly down at the sheets. Then, slowly, her eyes lifted to the pest.

He had the decency to give her an apologetic shrug before nodding over at Jezalin working a few beds over, her head bowed over a redcap. “You’re to stay in bed and I’m to keep watch or Pakos will eat my liver and Jezalin will drain the life out of me.”

Squirt had the passing thought that it wouldn’t be possible if his mother really was Life itself before shaking that thought from her mind, dropping her head down with a defeated sigh. “Really?”

“Really.”

“You’re serious.”

He winced. “They most certainly were.”

“And you’re taking their side over mine?”

He winced again, hunching a little in his seat. “It is not… ah… well… I won’t stop you if you fight it. I suppose I will probably live.”

Rolling her eyes, she muttered, “It’s not worth fighting,” and leaned back against the pillow propped headboard.

Visible relief made him sag against the chair.

Idiot. Why had he even come back? So far all he’d done was show up, break her heart, and now be her guard dog to force her to remain in bed.

She blatantly ignored the way he’d also made her people smile, dance, and enjoy the existence they were eking out in the carriage storage room, since that would remind her of what she liked about him, and she wasn’t ready to admit she liked him for anything more than his stupid pretty face.

Regardless. This wasn’t about her losing battle against sanity. It was about this idiot having come back to court her, and since then having done no such thing.

Sliding her eyes away from him to reflectively check on the room, she said dryly, “You’re shit at courting. You know that, right?”

“Ah yes… this I know…” He rubbed the back of his head awkwardly, and to her surprise, his cheeks flushed. “I am trying to learn, but I have never done it before.”

“I remember.”

He nodded.

Silence fell between them again. When she happened to glance at him out of the corner of her eyes, she almost recoiled at the self-deprecating smile badly plastered on his face, the motion clearly ingrained even if he didn’t feel it.

Then he shook himself and said, “Ah, and the others are well cared for. I put up a barrier. I will know if anyone interferes. Granny Thorn is roasting up tonight’s stew. Squash with roasted chili peppers and potatoes.” He paused, thinking to himself. “Some of the younger ones were asking about you. I do not know which ones, though. They gave me no name.”

Because they didn’t have any yet.

Studying him, she found herself asking bitterly, “Why are you doing this? Is it just because Lord Everwinter told you to?”

He glanced up and around them, an almost imperceptible film of magic passing over them and silencing the larger room. Only then did he meet her gaze with a half-hearted shrug and say, “I am shit at courting, non?” Shaking his head, he let out a tired laugh, dropping his head down with a sigh. “I have taken Bartos’s advice, yes. He is smarter than me, though you are smarter than us both.”

He fell quiet, thinking. “You are trying to carry this alone. I see it, even from the other side of the room. I want to help. I don’t want…” Scrunching up his nose, he searched for the words before saying, “… I am broken. But I do not want you to fix me. I will… no this isn’t…”

The pest scratched his fingers through his hair, gripping it in frustration, an awkward flush to his cheeks. “I am… you are… it was not the,” he gestured between them, “the compatibility. It is you that amazes me.”

“That doesn’t explain why you’re learning their names.” Or writing them songs.

He blinked rapidly. “Talking to people is my best skill.” Then he beamed. “And learning about them is learning about you.”

“Your best skill is your magic, dumbass.”

“I have offered it, but they will not take it. I have to be sneaky or the elders will won’t let me help peel the potatoes tomorrow.”

She pointed at him. “That, right there. Why do you want to peel potatoes with them?”

“Because they are fun to talk to? They know stories I have never heard before.”

“But you just—” Giving up, she sat back against the bed with an annoyed huff.

The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

“… should I not—”

“I don’t care, pest. Do whatever you want.”

Though the words had been dismissive, she had not stonewalled herself off. After a beat or two of silence, she chanced a glimpse back at his face. “What?”

He shrugged with a more genuine, yet bittersweet smile. “Nothing at all,” then in a tight whisper, “Squirt.”

That visceral pain in her chest returned in an instant. She hated it. Everything about it. The way his smile dimmed. The way his voice flattened in tone, attempting and failing to remain upbeat. The way she was beginning to miss declarations of, “My goddess,” from him.

Glancing back at Jezalin, the woman was still deep in her healing meditation. Squirt relaxed back against the bed, thinking about it. About how Jezalin had flirted with her outright and directly. About how Qzi had used his magic to heal her despite being so severely weakened. About how Zhadin was never far from her side.

“Paled in comparison to your beauty and did nothing to sway me from your side.”

The pest had said that about the Siabitch.

The words tumbled out, but once they started, despite the mild panic hovering over the edges, she committed to them. “That day you arrived. In the barn. With what you learned.” She glanced up, noting the silence spell was still in place before continuing. “You… were upset.”

He winced. “Yes.”

“Why?”

She knew the answer, of course. It’s because she wasn’t the perfect little present from the gods chosen to be his perfect partner—

“I… ah… that is…” He dropped his head, his shoulders slumped in defeat before whispering, “Because I… I trapped you. Or… or so I feared. It… you… I am not your match, you could have anyone and I am…” he gestured at himself before sighing again.

She squinted at him.

No.

No, that was stupid. That couldn’t be it.

Numb with disbelief, she said, “You mean to tell me you were upset because you realized you are not good enough for me?”

He stared at her. “Was that not obvious?”

A startled, singular, quiet laugh slipped from her lips.

It was his turn to squint at her.

Nope, there was way too much assessment in those eyes, nope, this didn’t need to be one of those moments where he was too smart by half—

Alas, his voice chastised her. “You didn’t.”

“Fuck off.”

“Squirt, you—”

She snapped, “Stop calling me Squirt.”

He faltered. “Then… I…” He frowned. Crossed his arms. Studied her intently.

Were her cheeks always this warm or—

Nope, she was looking away now. Gods damn it all, he was about to see right through her—

“Then… huntress?”

That was… better. “Whatever.”

“Huntress.”

“What?”

“I am the one courting.” He paused. “I think. If you still…” Shaking his head, he continued. “I am the one courting. Is it not obvious I am the lessor?”

It was her turn to falter. “I…”

He tutted. Tutted. “Huntress, I am yours. But you are free. That was my oath.”

“Oath, what oath?”

“My oath to the Hunt. To guarantee your freedom even from me.”

“What? When?”

“When you went missing. It was only when I made the oath that the stag brought me to the dungeon door.”

“You… made an oath?”

“Yes.”

“Exact wording. What was the exact wording.”

He waved her away. “It is my oath to bear, m—huntress.” Then he studied her again before hedging. “… am I… still allowed to court, or…?”

“Or what, pest?”

He hesitated. “Or… should I protect you from me?”

That… was honestly a good question.

She mulled over the options when he leaned forward, catching her eye with an awkward smile. He said almost playfully, “Ah, this is, you need not answer now.” Shifting himself with obvious discomfort, he muttered, “I made this about me again. I have that habit.”

Dryly, she said, “You do.”

“I do. I’m working with it.”

“Working on it.”

“Ah, yes, on. Why is Common so confusing?”

Because it was an amalgamation of many different languages jumbled together, taking bits and pieces of all of them and shitting out something vaguely familiar to everyone. “It’s only confusing to idiots.”

“Yes, but we know I am one, and I know I am not alone.”

She couldn’t help the small snort that escaped. “Whatever.”

Movement drew her eyes up to Jezalin as the angel—damnit, the fallen came out of her healing trance, her golden eyes flicking up briefly to Squirt’s.

The woman nodded to her, wrapping up with her current patient before standing. She strode over, seating herself next to Squirt’s bed, opposite the pest. “There are other ways of getting my attention that don’t involve severe wounds.”

Squirt gave the woman a hard stare while the pest just did a soft intake of breath, realizing Jezalin’s interest in that moment.

Jezalin sighed, then nodded toward something in Squirt’s lap. “May I have that?”

Squirt blinked before dropping her eyes to her belt, where there sat a ring of very pale pink redcap hats. Annoyed they were all noble and had integrity to wait to ask for her permission, she yanked it off her belt, revolted by the very item, and practically shoved it into Jezalin’s waiting hands.

The fallen smiled softly at Squirt. “When you’re ready, he can escort you to his lordship’s office.”

Squirt’s expression flattened. “I thought I wasn’t to leave the bed.”

Jezalin shrugged. “Not until I had cleared you, and I couldn’t guarantee I wouldn’t be in a trance when you woke.

Squirt decided to ignore the fact that her instinct to have Squirt forcibly restrained had done its job not five minutes ago. She glanced back at a grimacing pest who muttered, “I am not sorry to have helped.”

Liar. He was obviously sorry. “What happened to guaranteeing my freedom?”

His face fell into horror before his hands slowly came up to clasp his head. “Freedom… but… healer’s orders…”

Exactly what kind of oath did he give that allowed him that much leeway?

With a scowl, she shook it from her mind, pulled back the blankets, and stood, taking a moment to slap her cheeks to wake up. Strapping her tool belts onto her hips, she reached into her hip pouch to pull out another wakeberry.

Jezalin frowned. “… what is that?”

Squirt stared, surprised, up at the fallen’s curious face. “… it’s a wakeberry, my lady.”

Jezalin’s lips pursed slightly at the address, but it was an expression of disappointment rather than dislike. “I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

Her expression flattening, Squirt held out the berry, dryly saying, “I doubt one as powerful as you has need of such a thing, my lady. It staves off the need for sleep for weaker fey.”

Jezalin let out a deeply troubled breath. “That would explain the exhaustion… huntress, you cannot keep pushing your body like this. You need sleep for a reason.”

Squirt glared, pulling the berry back and shoving it in her pouch, not really registering that she hadn’t actually had one. Her voice she kept to a whisper quiet enough that Jezalin leaned forward slightly to catch her words, though the low volume did not detract from the vehemence in her tone. “I’m doing my best, my lady, but shit happens like a hundred dependents getting dropped on you out of the fucking sky, so excuse me for not being able to just keep going while subsisting on magic alone.” She threw a dark look at the pest, knowing he didn’t sleep at all.

He smiled warmly, completely unaffected by her glare, somehow just eating up her attention in the same way Qzi would.

The thought of the redcap had her scowling, her eyes darting around the room. “… where’s Qzi?”

Jezalin smiled at her, turning her attention to a bed a few rows away with a curtain drawn over it. “Sleeping off his night.” She turned her attention back to Squirt with a meaningful eyebrow raise but didn’t elaborate.

Squirt decided to deliberately ignore the message. It wasn’t said, so it didn’t exist. Just like Jezalin wasn’t interested in her, Squirt wasn’t interested in the pest, and she definitely hadn’t almost died for the damn redcap that was actively courting her. Nope.

She allowed herself the indulgence of rubbing her eyes briefly.

***

Jezalin watched with amusement as the huntress carefully made the bed, muttering under her breath about titled fey being more trouble than they were worth and something about flying monkeys. She had to hide her smile.

Prince Feldan caught her eye, having a similar adoring smile on his face. Only, like he’d been since she had arrived, there was an uncertainty and nervousness to him Jezalin had never seen.

Finally. Someone made him self-conscious.

Frankly, Jezalin’s respect for the huntress went up several notches for accomplishing the impossible, and from the looks of it, accomplishing it without even trying.

“Lady Jezalin, I request your assistance—this wound has festered.”

She sighed, bound to her duty as much as she’d much rather not. Eyeing the prince again, she touched her lips, using a touch of magic to pass a message directly to his mind. Call on me if her condition worsens. She needs rest soon.

A conflicted pain glinted in his eyes as they turned back to the huntress, considering her before he slowly nodded.

Unaware of the reluctant agreement from the prince, the huntress finished resetting the bed. Jezalin didn’t have the heart to tell her that the bed would be stripped of sheets before the next patient, instead shifting to catch her eye and give her a friendly smile. “I hope to see you soon, before I must return to the Capital.”

The huntress glowered at the healer before muttering, “Fat fucking chance. You try dealing with a hundred dependents dropped on you.”

Jezalin’s smile widened slightly. “A hundred and twenty, actually.”

She gave Jezalin a hard stare.

Jezalin’s eyes drifted meaningfully around the beds with the sleeping redcaps. Gathered up like they were, the huntress clearly realized there were indeed more than she had initially counted.

She scowled before snapping in a heated whisper, “I don’t, that doesn’t count! I’m giving them back their damn caps.”

Jezalin’s smile widened with just a touch of a smirk, standing and turning to the patient with the festering wound, deciding not to tell the woman that by redcap culture, she was now the leader of their gang.

Something for the huntress to discover in due time, she was sure.

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