He hid in the trees above summer two days later and watched her struggle to do work with the cast causing her so much trouble. She looked pale and solemn for the past two days.

She looked up from the rose she stood on, strugglig to make dewdrops.

Darting his head down, he held still and waited. If she knew he was watching, that he had been in his free time after work the past couple days, it might upset her more. He peeked over the leaf.

Silvermist stared down at the pond below, her wings limp and the carefree look about her gone.

This was enough. Time to find Dewey.

There had never been an occasion to visit the winter library where all fairy knowledge was kept. The expansive crystal walls housed centuries worth of books on its massive walls. Even more books lay scattered in tall piles on the floor, creating a haphazard path to the front where Dewey scribbled down knowledge as fast as possible while mumbling.

"Keeper?"

Dewey startled and then startled again upon seeing his visitor. He smiled and grabbed his walking stick. "How d'y do? Have we met?" Rubbing his glasses, he squinted.

Thank Neverland for poor eyesight and forgetfulness—at least someone besides Silvermist wasn't afraid of him. "Captain Sleet. It's been some time."

"Sleet? Sleet, Sleet," he muttered and tapped his chin as he flew closer and peered intently. Dewey blinked and backed up just a hair too quick.

Lovely. So much for no fer. He cleared his throat. "I have a question I think you'll be able to answer."

Dewey flew back over to his podium and stuck his nose in a book. "Well?"

A sigh escaped him. He shold be used to rudeness from othe fairies by now. "I'd like to know a bit about water fairies."

The head of white hair popped up over the podium. "Why?"

He shook his head. Maybe Keeper wasn't the right one to ask. Dewey might get suspicious and then figure out it had to do with Silvermist. No one must ever know anything existed between himself and her. "I'm simply curious. Are they very sensitive creatures? Emotionally?"

A frown marred Dewey's face. "Of course! Water fairies are the most emotional breed. Prone to tears too, in joy or sadness, being water fairies and all. Lord Milori warned me about you asking questions. I'm supposed to tell him. Not sure why, but I was told not to divulge any information!" The old fairy huffed and began writing in the book, clearly dismissing him.

Of course. He shouldn't have expected any less from the Queen but to have tabs kept on him. He was, afterall, an assassin who would always be that. His wings fell. He had to try. For Silvermist's sake. "Keeper, if a water fairy becomes depressed, will it cause harm?"

Dewey slowly raised his eyes. "Bright Fairies cannot be depressed unless touched by the Darkness," he said slowly, horror blooming in his eyes.

"Darkness?"

Eyes darting around to make sure no one was listening, Dewey whispered, "Alamur. Terrible fairies who are born of evil and destruction. The ones who came in the war."

He swallowed hard. "What do you mean? I thought only torture or touching their sugar can cause a Bright Fairy to get depressed." His heart beat faster. It couldn't be true. Simply touching Silvermist couldn't have harmed her. "Keeper?" he urged.

Dewey flipped open a massive book on a shelf behind him and skimmed a finger along the pages. "Ah! I'll be a yetti's uncle. Wrote this four hundred years ago, but I remember it right. Says Bright Fairies aren't meant to know suffering in any form. Extended exposure to it can lead to depression."

"But, wouldn't the separation of the Queen and Lord Milori those three hundred years have caused them to suffer depression?" He stepped forward to look at Dewey's book.

Dewey looked up at him. "You're talking about two different things."

"What?"

"The Queen and Lord Milori loved each other deeply before the separation. They did suffer a degree of depression, but nothing as devastating as if they didn't have that love to hold onto. Now, if you're talking about a fairy who isn't mated, who doesn't have that bond of love and is suffering from depression, it..." Dewey's eyes filled with regret. "It can become fatal over time."

"How much time?" he demanded.

"Perhaps a year or more. I don't know cuz it's never happened."

"Thank you." He turned and hurried out through the maze of books.

"Wait! What was your name again?!"


He watched her through her window that night, debating what the best course of action would be for her. Her pink skin looked ashen, and she moved with slow, careful precision as if it took every ounce of strength to do anything. She couldn't go on like this. Dewey had to be wrong that it would take a year or more for depression to snuff out her light. At this rate, she wouldn't last a week.

He sank down on her front step and buried his face in his hands. The weight of being responsible for another creature felt so impossible to carry. Why did fate have to tie her to him—a creature who could never give her what she deserved? Damn coward. Get up and work things out before she collapses. Her death is on your shoulders. How could he help her without being her mate? Mating was out of the question. All it'd take is one moment of losing his temper and he'd kill her during a fit. Hell, even the mating would mean the end of her. Perhaps being friends would be enough to help save her. But what if she hated him? What if she slammed the door in his face for being such a cold monster? Well, something had to be done. Sitting on the step all night wouldn't solve anything.

He stood and took a deep breath. Shit. Being in the Alamur army hadn't been this nerve wracking. He'd rather face ten murdering Alamur captains again than this tiny little female fairy. Rapping his knuckles on the door, his heart shot into his throat.

The door opened. She looked faint and her breathing slightly labored. "Why are you here?" Her hand clutched the doorknob to stay upright.

His eye searched hers. "I'm sorry. I can't stay away from you. I miss your light." There. That seemed romantic.

Except she swayed. And not like she was about to swoon from romance.

"Dammit, you need a healer." He scooped her up and marched across the room to lay her on the bed. Then he frowned and felt her forehead. "You're burning up." A fever didn't have anything to do with depression. His eye narrowed on her cast. Her hand looked a bit swollen. "Does your arm hurt?" Without waiting for an answer, he carefully lifted her arm and peered inside the cast the little he could. A red rash. "Shit. You have an infection." Slipping his arms under her, he took the blanket with her to keep her from chilling.

"Why did you come?" she whispered, not having the energy to speak or hold onto him.

He hurried outside and flew as fast as he dared without making her cold from the wind. "I miss you," he whispered past the lump in his throat and looked down at her.

She lay fast asleep wrapped in his arms.

It was probably a combination of exhaustion and weakness from being ill that let her sleep through Spruce's exam at the hospital.

"Let me get a saw, and we'll get this cast off to make sure that's where the infection is originating." Spruce stepped out of the exam room.

Her eyes fluttered open and took in the white surroundings from where she lay on a bed. Panic filled her eyes, and her face crumpled. "No."

"Shhh." He darted over to the side of the bed and took her good hand. "I won't leave. You need medicine. Spruce is going to cut off the cast to check your incision." She started crying in earnest. Physically having a heart ripped out couldn't possibly hurt more than hearing her cries. "No, don't cry." He sat in the chair and stroked her brow. "I'll stay the whole time. Don't be frightened. You're so sick you need to be here."

Big brown eyes that had lost their luster to illness looked up at him. Her chest heaved with soft hiccups. "Promise?" Another tear slipped out of the corner of her eye.

Catching the tear on his finger, he brushed it away. Holding her eyes, he vowed, "I promise."

Spruce came in with the praying mantis, whose arms looked like saws. "This is Bob. He's very good at removing casts." Silvermist tensed. "I promise it won't hurt like last time," Spruce promised Silvermist. "It's not a fresh bone break this time."

His heart broke. She clearly went through this before, and it must have been painful. When she was alone. His nostrils flared, hit by a wall of her intense fear. Instead of unleashing the frenzy, protectiveness surged up from the depths of his soul. He would beat anyone who did her harm. His eye narrowed on Spruce and the praying mantis, who looked slightly frightened of him. Good.

Forcing a gentle look so as not to scare her, he turned his eye to Silvermist. He wrapped both of his hands around hers and held tight. "It'll be alright. Quick and then it's done."

The poor thing clung to his hand in pain as the mantis sawed. Sweat gathered on her brow almost instantly as she panted.

"Did you give her pain petals?" He applied a cold rag to her forehead and held her hand tight. Shit, he felt like crawling out of his skin seeing her like this.

Spruce's eyes remained focused on the mantis's sawing. "They don't work."

"What?!"

"Meds don't work well on her, but I don't know why. Bob, angle to the left a little."

"Hell with this." He shot up and let go of her hand to lean across her. "Move or I take your arm off," he ordered Bob and reached for her arm.

"What are you doing?" Spruce flung out his arm to keep him back.

"I can rip the damn thing off now that he's gotten through a bit of it. The vibrations are what's hurting her." Without waiting for a response, he began prying the cast apart. It cracked and pried apart like massive chunks of bark from a tree. The cast finally snapped in two.

They all stared at him.

Clearing his throat, he tossed the cast into the trash and sat back down. "Well? Get the bandage off and see if it's infected." A dainty hand slipped into his. He looked down to see a soft smile on her pale face. For that smile, he would have tried to crush stones with his bare hands, no matter how long it took.

She looked like an angel sleeping after Spruce had cleaned out the dirt that had gotten down the cast and into the incision. Her poor arm was swollen, and Spruce had started two intravenous medications to clear out the infection. The fever remained low with the application of constant cold compresses on her brow. Even in her sleep she held his hand.

He shifted again and rubbed his own arm that throbbed for some reason.

Spruce walked in at dusk to check on her again. As he listened to her heart, he glanced over. "You seem quite worried about her."

He rubbed his elbow. "Shove it."

Throwing the stethescope around his neck, Spruce met his eye glittering with anger. "She's my patient here. Anything odd, and I will have the Queen and Lord Milori here in a heartbeat."

Keeping his voice down so as not to wake her, he growled, "I don't care what the hell you all do, I'm not leaving her until she's out of here." He rose to his feet, letting go of her hand for a moment. "And you'd damn well better figure out pain meds for her."

A soft whimper came from the bed.

He looked down to see her brow furrow in pain as she started to wake up.

Spruce adjusted the leaf towel propping her arm up. "Is this better?"

Her eyes shot open and her mouth fell open in pain so intense she made not a sound.

Grabbing her arm carefully, he lowered it back down, and almost fell to his knees. Blinding pain shot up his arm, making him release hers instantly. His pain evaporated.

She cried out and clutched her arm.

It couldn't be. He touched her arm again. The pain returned. Panting through it, he forced his eye open to look at her. She looked confused, but her breathing slowed down.

"Are you...are you taking her pain?" Spruce asked with wide eyes.

The elbow pain eased to an intense throb. With a shrug, he released a deep breath from pain.

Spruce pressed his finger near the raw inflammed incision.

Pain so intense he nearly vomited pierced up his arm. "Shit! Holy son of a...!" His head sank down onto the bed as he panted past the agony, but he didn't let go of her arm.

"You're taking her pain. I've never heard of this," Spruce gasped, sounding amazed. "Oh Neverland," he whispered in horror. "You're her mate. Only a mate has some kind of physical connection. The Queen has to know."

"No," he gasped and slowly raised his head. "We can't mate. I'd kill her. There's no reason for anyone to know."

She set a hand on his arm. "Stop. That doesn't need to be discussed right now. Sleet, let go."

He shook his head.

"Let go." She tried to pull her arm away.

Biting back a cry of pain, he bowed his head. "For shit's sake, don't move," he begged.

"Watch your mouth," Spruce muttered.

Without lifting his head, he flipped a finger at Spruce.

A soft female laugh filled the room. "Alright, you two. Spruce, please get him some pain petals." Spruce left. "Sleet, you don't need to do this," she said in all seriousness.

Lifting his head, he squinted through the pain to see the worry in her face. "I owe you more than this."

Those brown eyes filled with sorrow. "I'm not an obligation or debt. You owe me nothing. There's no reason for you to stay here all night, much less do this."

The worst of the physical pain passed. Bowing his head, he stared at the bedsheets. "I came back because I thought you were succumbing to depression because of me."

Her face fell with so much grief.

"But it's not like that now," he rushed out. "I...I missed you. The only thing I can promise is I'll make you cry. I'm not kind or good or noble. I'm nothing like what you deserve. We cannot be mates because a mating is impossible to survive with an Alamur. But I...I want to be your friend, the one you turn to when you're frightened or alone."

Tears shimmered in her eyes. Good tears? Bad?

He swallowed hard. "I'm not used to feeling like this. It goes against instinct to be vulnerable or gentle. I didn't understand how much I'd hurt you at the hospital. Not until we talked in spring. Your fear and pain become my own. I left the hospital to protect you from getting too close to me, and I left spring because I didn't know how to deal with heartbreak that profound. I shouldn't have done those things." His voice grew hoarse. "I've never talked so much. I'll be a poor companion."

Her face crumpled and tears slipped from her eyes.

Staring down at the bed, he didn't know what to do. Even his apology had hurt her. What was he doing? He should hand himself over to the Alamur right now.

A feather-soft hand cupped his scruffy jaw. "That was the most perfect apology."

His eye flew to her.

"Kiss me," she whispered. "Kiss me so I can feel your heart again."

This warm feeling washed through him. Joy? Standing slowly, he was careful to not jostle her arm. Then he bent down, just a breath apart, and searched her eyes. Happiness shined through the fever. She reached up and pulled off his eye patch. And then smiled the most beautiful, gentle smile fairies had ever known.

Leaning down, he leaned a hand down on the bed to keep from toppling on her. His lips touched hers. Only this time, her tongue came to him to dance. The heat in his chest burned softly as their hearts opened to each other. Her emotions flooded into him, crashing like the ocean along the shore. He gasped at the intensity that threatened to crush him.

"Shhh, it's alright," she whispered against his lips.

Minutes later he squeezed on the small bed and held her, keeping a hand on her arm. "Go to sleep. I'll be right here."

She curled into his chest, fitting against his massive frame so easily. "Thank you for everything. Don't leave me. I have nightmares here."

"I won't. What are your nightmares about?" He stroked her silky locks, afraid of what tortures she dreamt that could make her scream.

"They want to take away your heart. So you can't love me." She gave a big yawn. "I know you can't. But without your heart, you're just an Alamur," she mumbled and drifted off.

"Your nightmares are about me?" No one had ever had a nightmare about him getting hurt as a bad thing. "Why do I matter?"

She sighed, lingering between the worlds of consciousness and sleep. "Mmm. Because I love you..."