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

Squirt scowled and muttered to herself under her breath as she stalked through the halls, doing her level best to avoid as many fey as possible and keep to the shadows. She finally snapped, finding the nearest closet, practically ripping it open and shoving the damn pest in there with her. She glared at him in fury, hissing out in a quiet whisper, “You are unbearable.”

His eyes went wide with surprise and just a touch of hurt. “I, but, what did I do?”

Annoyance rose up as she glared. “I’m trying to avoid notice, idiot. You suck at sneaking. Find your own way.”

He blinked a few times. “I can sneak.”

Dryly, she responded, “Really?” Highly unlikely. It was impressive already how much he’d contained his vast aura for his disguise, but with his vast amount of magic, true stealth was out of the question.

“I can. I just wasn’t trying.”

Right. Yeah. Sure. Squirt absolutely believed him.

Narrowing her eyes, she challenged him to prove it. “Then fucking start.”

He nodded solemnly, the expression odd on his usually carefree face. His eyes unfocused, and he breathed deeply. The light aura common to most mid-tier magic users pulled into himself. He winced slightly, the sheer volume not necessarily comfortable when compressed to such a degree, but in the span of three breaths his aura all but disappeared.

“Better?” he asked, his voice just slightly strained.

He really was trying. The serious expression on his face seemed wrong. Off. Misplaced.

And only irritated her.

Damnit, where had his flippant nature gone?

Deciding not to address it, she eased the door open, scanning the hall before slipping out. He followed. This time, as she darted through the halls, he was honestly as sneaky as she was, if not more so.

Which only pissed her off more.

Gods damnit. Why did he have to be so… so capable?

Capable, handsome, engaging, oddly genuine—for a titled fey—and willing to listen to her without fuss despite her being so much lower than himself.

His words earlier.

Was that not obvious?

Why the fuck would it be obvious that a gods damned prince considered himself lesser than a fucking greenling—

Then again, things were clearly changing fast enough to give her whiplash. The gods damned Queen had mated a greenling, making him a lord prince and the scandal of the millennia. Her goddess had smote the Riverlands Keep just because she had almost died and the Royal Family considered her enough of a national treasure to send the Royal Physician off just to heal her.

And that same Royal Physician wanted to fuck her, not because she was a greenling, but because she was a dominant woman with scars.

Nothing made sense anymore.

The world was just so much smaller six months ago, surviving through another winter with Stalf on the edge of the Wylds.

… am I… still allowed to court, or…?

Was he?

They reached Lord Everwinter’s door, and Squirt forcibly buried her feelings on the matter, her face like stone as she knocked on the door.

The door flew open before she could reach for the handle, and she faltered back a little bit at the furious hazel eyes of Tobias. He reached forward, grabbed her by the arm, and yanked her—his grip firm, but not painful—into the room. The pest slipped in after them just in time for Tobias to shut the door.

The wolf dropped to his knees before Squirt, mostly so he didn’t have to bend over has he obsessively checked her over for injuries. “I get tied up with fucking bullshit paperwork for a few days too long, and you somehow end up in a duel with a fucking redcap—”

“They had Qzi.”

Tobias’s eyes flashed with his wolf, but to her surprise, it wasn’t a growl that worked its way into his voice. It was the slight pitch of a whine. “What is Qzi’s rank?”

Squirt blinked a few times. “He’s…”

It hit her.

Tobias, satisfied that she was uninjured, pulled her into a tight hug. “He’s a Guard, Braveheart.”

The unexpected affection from the wolf, along with the chastisement, had Squirt flushed with shame.

She was an idiot.

Qzi was a member of the Guard. Under the same protections that she was. Lord Everwinter would have gotten involved if she asked, and as a sworn member of his Guard, Qzi would have been safely returned.

Oh gods. Four Guard members were badly injured from that fight. Seven bystanders. Resources had been spent on her. She’d been pulled from her people and been so focused on solving it without getting anyone else involved—

Damnit. Had Zhadin known and just not cared?

Probably.

Knowing them, they didn’t care much about the casualties and cared more about seeing her be “fierce.” Besides, they had only once tried suggesting a plan to her and had never tried again. She had never asked, so they had never offered.

Tobias held her tight. Her eyes eventually drifted up to see the downcast expression on the pest’s face, a touch of concern glinting in his now pink eyes.

That pink was almost as bad as that fake, plastered smile.

She glanced away, awkwardly patting Tobias on the back as she wrestled the guilt and sorrow into submission. By the time Tobias pulled himself back, she was once again relaxed, her expression controlled. When she was able to, she scanned the office.

Telos and Lord Everwinter were leaned over what looked like architectural plans on a new desk that looked just as well made as his original. Dusty was seated on a couch, writing something up on a board, while Kenna sat next to him, her usual many braids unwoven and revealing her long, luscious brown locks, perfectly curled and styled in a half up, half down style. Her purple dress was flowy, light, and matched her purple eyes beautifully.

Almost as casually gorgeous as Jezalin.

Though Squirt may have been biased.

Catching Squirt’s eye, Kenna casually set down her teacup, her smile cutting.

Squirt winced. Her gaze dropped down to the ground as she petulantly muttered, “I didn’t think I had much of a choice.”

Lord Everwinter’s voice rumbled darkly when he spoke, Squirt’s spine straightening on instinct alone. “Even if Qzi was not a member of the Guard, you could have invoked a boon on any number of fey to negotiate in your place, including myself.”

Squirt gave him an incredulous look, “And risk you instead?”

The entire room came to an abrupt standstill, Lord Everwinter’s ire dropping for surprise.

She continued defensively, though her tone remained muted, halfway between petulant and apologetic. “They were from the Family that is the main opponent to the Queen. Invoking a boon on you would risk my identity and your neutrality in the matter and could be easily twisted in rumor. Not only would you be caught in the middle for something that is none of your business, but it even risked the Queen. I couldn’t rely on any boon without risking someone, so I went with the option that risked me and me alone.”

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Especially because the moment that the masses found out about the scandal sitting less than five feet from Squirt, there would be more than enough public outcry about greenlings receiving preferential treatment.

His lips pressed in a firm line, but while his brow furrowed, his tone softened considerably. “You still do not trust me.”

“I do.”

“And yet you did not even attempt—”

“I know. I know my mistakes in this.”

He exhaled sharply out of his nose. “If you had died, Everwinter would—”

“Would be fine. You don’t need me, particularly not this late in the season. Once the crops come in next month, all you have to do is defend the walls. The one I couldn’t risk was you.”

His muscles bulged with the threat of a shift. “If you died—"

“If you die, my people will have nothing. No shelter. No food. No protection.”

The lord froze.

She glanced away.

The pest couldn’t give her people a home. None of them could. But with Telos in the office having returned from her mission, with the plans laid out on the table, she knew Lord Everwinter could and would. He would be the first titled fey in Fer’ich history to provide an actual home for her people.

Not even the Queen could boast that. Any place she provided would either be a prison or a hellhole.

Only he could give them freedom.

Baring her teeth in her grimace, she clenched her fists, her shoulders taut, her eyes down on the floor as she tried to master herself again, but the emotion was there and would not back down, making her voice tremble just slightly. “I do trust you. I trust you to house and feed them even if I die. I can’t trust that of anyone else.”

Long moments stretched between them.

Then she exhaled sharply before bowing lowly. “Regardless of my intentions, I was a fool. I will accept your judgement in this matter, my lord.”

He leaned forward, exhaling in a more controlled, even manner, his fingers steepled together. “… at the very least, there will be a fine for those injured.”

Squirt winced.

“I will pay it this time. Money is something we have plenty of.”

Her eyes snapped up, realizing he was entirely serious as he continued blithely, “Had Qzi worn his Everwinter leathers, perhaps he would have been recovered sooner. I had a tail on those redcaps. They had been trouble since they arrived, and we were looking for ways to encourage them to leave faster. Now they are the aggressors, and the Queen has ammunition against their Family for attacking the Everwinter Guard unprovoked.”

She nodded, suspicious of his decision to pay for her before deciding abruptly that he could, indeed, pay for her. “… yeah, well… that was the plan.”

He shot her a smile. “… it was a good plan. Reckless beyond all belief. Next time, less recklessness and more trust.”

She shot him a glare, but her heart clearly wasn’t in it. “… I make no promises.”

“… how compromised is your identity?”

“Realistically? I’m not market talk, but certainly laundry day.” A reference to a stereotype that chat in the marketplace was meant for light conversation, small talk amongst fey uninvolved with large political plots, while laundry days in most villages were where fey gossiped about open secrets.

“Hm.”

Suspicion returned. “No.”

“Hm.”

“You can’t honestly be thinking about this.”

Standing from his desk, the lord strolled around towards the couch closest to Squirt while he spoke. “The Queen did supply a large number of pixie sized Guard leathers.”

“So?”

“It would prevent me from showing any one group too much favoritism.”

“They wouldn’t be doing the job of the Guard.”

“They would be compensated for it by the royal treasury.”

Squirt stiffened before asking incredulously, “Why?”

Dusty cleared his throat, drawing both of their attention and shooting Squirt a smile. “Hazard pay for protecting a national treasure, a bargain instituted by Queen Annabelle and signed by every greenling here.”

Squirt’s jaw dropped. “When?”

He shrugged. “They had already pledged. The writing came in with the caravan of extra supplies yesterday.”

“So yesterday.”

“Yesterday.”

Her eyes snapped up to Lord Everwinter. “You can’t seriously be considering this, can you?”

He eased himself onto the couch, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees to look her in the eye. Assess her. Then he spoke, “Right now, your people are being given too much favoritism that will breed resentment over time. More so, when certain revelations get made.”

Without saying it directly, she knew he meant Dusty’s status.

And yeah, she was keenly aware of this.

He continued, “You, however, are a popular icon for a variety of reasons. The Guard in particular owe you many life debts.”

“Bullshit they do—”

“And by dressing as you, your people will be, believe it or not, more protected, not less.”

Squirt froze. Then squinted at him. “Excuse me?”

Tobias piped up from behind her, throwing an arm over her shoulder as if he was telling her a joke, dragging her down slightly since he was on his knees still. “It’s like this, Braveheart. They dress as you. It’s obvious what they’re doing and why. They’re protecting you. Ergo, they capitalize on your popularity.”

“What popularity?”

Telos sighed, crossing her arms delicately over her chest. “You have never been to the taverns to hear the songs, have you?”

“Songs, what songs, what the fuck—”

“Braveheart, you’re a hero and modern-day saint, a rare chosen of the Goddess of the Hunt who has famously not chosen a champion for centuries, someone who has repeatedly saved at least half the Guard, and an underdog icon for the general populace to relate to. Plus, you’re cute as a button. Isn’t it obvious you’d have a fan club?”

A…

A…

A fucking fan club? “Bullshit.”

Then again, she remembered the faces of those in the crowd held back by the Guard during her duel. Those who were ready to jump in had she needed it.

“Look, the other greens dressing as you will just trigger your fan club to defend them with a fervor the likes of which you’ve never seen. Plus, the bounty from Skye specifically states you have to be alive and unharmed. They’ll be fine.”

Squirt’s hands came up to comb through her hair as she muttered, “This is stupid. Insane and stupid.”

Dusty stood from the couch, setting aside his board and capping the inkpot before he turned to face her. “Stupid or not, it’s our choice to make.”

Without giving her the chance to argue further, he passed by her to exit, Kenna standing and trailing along behind.

The she-wolf stopped by Squirt’s shoulder briefly, leaning in and murmuring, “I’m glad you’re safe.” Then, without another word, she turned and followed Dusty out into the hall, leaving Squirt grappling with the reality of what they were heading off to do.

Sudden exhaustion hit, and she rubbed her eyes. Damn it all.

She pulled out a dried wakeberry, chewing on it while the door opened and shut behind her. Squirt then turned back to Lord Everwinter. “I assume you didn’t just call me here to scold me over being reckless.”

He nodded, waving her over. “Come. Look over these plans with us for housing for your people. There is much we must discuss.”

Cirn was surprised to see Lady Kenna knocking on her door. Without a second thought, she invited the woman in, noting the greenling who followed her as he glanced around for Berry.

Berry had been scrubbing some of Cirn’s armor, and immediately set it aside, her green eyes with flecks of purple hardening somewhat and surprising Cirn. So far, the fey had been meek at best.

But perhaps, like Athereon…

They exchanged some hushed words Cirn didn’t catch, and when she turned her attention to Lady Kenna, she noticed the wolf was watching the exchange with a pleasant smile. It took almost a full minute for Cirn to catch on that the lady wasn’t here for her at all.

The other greenling pulled a bundle of clothes out of a dimensional pouch on his belt, setting it aside as Berry’s expression hardened into one of fierce determination. She nodded once, accepting a small paint brush and container of some kind.

Lady Kenna stepped closer, murmuring something to them both. The male pixie responded, and the lady giggled before saying, “I’m sure Lady Cirn would be happy to help. As would I, of course.”

Relieved to have been invited into the fold, Cirn approached stiffly as always, bowing politely to the lady before asking, “How many I be of service?”

“How do you feel about cutting hair?”

Surprised, Cirn eventually responded, “I have a spell for it. As long as I know the general shape.”

Lady Kenna smiled. “Excellent. Meet us in the quartermasters after she finishes changing?”

Cirn nodded once, surprised. “Ah… right.”

Lady Kenna looked down at the greenling next to her. “Next one?”

He was looking at a board. “The armory is next.”

“Good. See you two soon!”

Without any other ceremony, they left, Cirn belatedly bowing at their backs as they exited. When the door shut, she straightened slowly, somewhat confused what this was about. She turned hopefully back to Berry, hoping for a clue from the distant greenling.

For once, the woman was meeting her gaze, eyeing her appraisingly.

Cirn had seen the same expression before in Athereon. Clearing her throat, unsure of what to do with her hands, she unfolded the bundle of clothing as Berry continued her assessing stare. Distracted by her sudden nerves, it wasn’t until she touched the leather that she suddenly realized what these clothes were.

It clicked.

Slowly, her gaze turned back to the greenling at her side, noting the open jar of silver paint.

Their eyes met, and Cirn now assessed Berry as Berry assessed her. Seeing for the first time the spark of resolve in the woman’s eyes. The determination.

The challenge.

Cirn slowly straightened, recognizing the warrior’s spirit that Berry had hidden from her until this point. She had watched from the sidelines as the woman learned how to dodge in training, how she threw herself into every move. It eased the nerves from Cirn as she accepted the woman’s resolve, seeing echoes of herself in her.

She inclined her head respectfully, recognizing the choice being made. This greenling would do more for Athereon in one action than Cirn did in the entirety of the weeks they were in Riverlands together. She had a wisdom Cirn lacked, even if she did not have the strength.

But Cirn could help with that.

Quietly, Cirn said, “I will help you practice with your blade. If you will have me.”

Surprise passed over Berry’s face. Her considering gaze softened, relaxing. And then for the first time, she spoke with no formal tone. “You’re an awkward one, aren’t you?”

Hit right where it hurt, Cirn winced. “My home was… strict with social rules.”

Dryly, Berry said, “Mine as well.”

“Really?”

Berry’s expression did not flatten, being not nearly as expressive as Athereon’s. But Cirn was certain there was humor in her eyes before it blinked out of existence.

Without any other preamble, Berry began to strip to don the new outfit. A new comfort settled between the two after connecting for the first time since they met in that back alley.

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