"She's what?!"

An angry roar jolted her awake. Rage pounded through Sleet's glow around her heart.

She blinked. Lord Milori sat in the chair and Sleet reclined upright in bed. Pushing herself up, she ran a hand through her hair. "What on earth has you so upset that you're yelling when you had two abdominal surgeries yesterday?"

Furious eyes flicked to her. "You're not going into any damn battle," he hissed. "Alamur would have a damn festival torturing the hell out of a siren!" He grabbed his stomach and clenched his teeth in pain, but the fierce scowl remained on his face.

Heaving a sigh, she straightened her dress and got up. Then she faced them and folded her arms over her chest. "For one, you're far too injured to be near a battlefield, so I have no idea why we're discussing this with you."

Sleet's eyebrows shot up in disbelief.

"For another, I'm not some possession to be told what I can and can't do."

"You're my mate! As Captain of the Army, I sure as Neverland get even more damn say!" Then his head whipped to Lord Milori. "You agreed that she wouldn't be a weapon for the kingdom!"

Lord Milori scowled. "Need I remind you that you're speaking to your General, Captain. Besides, it was her idea, not mine. But, she did have a good question. If we slay the King of Horrors, won't that make you king and more Alamur will come after you?"

Sleet stuttered with grunts and sounds, not even getting a word out for a money. "Are you insane?! It's her idea, so she gets to waltz into a battlefield full of Neverland knows how many Alamur?!" He flung out his hand, his face red. "She's a female! You can't even imagine the things they'd do to her! And no, if I'm not the one to kill him, I'm not king!"

The beetle chirped a rapid heart rate, and the garden snake on his arm hissed from elevated blood pressure.

This was a first of seeing Sleet truly angry. "But—"

His head whipped around and he held up a finger, hissing between his teeth, "Don't say a word. I'm so angry with you I can't even stand it."

Blinking, she stared for a moment in surprise.

"Sleet," Lord Milori stood. "Calm down."

He turned on Lord Milori. "You had no right to plan this!" He shouted so loud that his neck veins bulged, but he clutched his belly and broke out in a sweat like yelling caused pain.

The beetle gave a weird screech.

A nurse flew in. "What's going on?" She looked at Lord Milori in confusion but flew over to Sleet. "Captain Sleet, you can't get this worked up." The nurse checked vitals.

Sleet's eyes narrowed beneath his brow on Milori, and his glow flickered slightly brighter, as if Lord Milori was nervous. The nurse, who stood on the same side of the bed as Lord Milori, glanced at Sleet and stepped back with wide eyes. His glow brightened. More fear.

Easing onto the side of the bed, she set a hand on his leg through the sheet. "Sleet, w—"

He turned his head. Black slits and red eyes stared from a face twisted with anger.

Instinctual fear made her breath catch and jerk her hand away in panic.

When his glow flashed a bright light in the room, he frowned in confusion. And then his head ducked to stare at the sheet, as if realizing what had happened.

"I'm going to grab some coffee." Lord Milori's voice was extremely calm and calculated. "Silvermist, do you want to come?"

Sleet didn't move, but his chest heaved a little less.

"I'm alright." She eased a hand onto Sleet's knee again, her heart still pounding. And Sleet's glow still bright.

"I'll be back in a minute." It sounded like a warning.

The door closed.

"You don't have to stay," he said quietly, the snake finally silent and the beetle's chirp slowing.

Reaching out, she cupped his scruffy jaw and guided his head up. But he wouldn't look. "It's an instinct to be afraid. I won't learn not to be if you don't teach me," she answered just as softly.

Bit by bit, his eyes climbed up her body.

The slits were a little wider than seconds ago. His hand cupped over hers on his face. "I won't hurt you," he whispered.

"I know," she breathed and caressed his cheek with her other hand. There was something innately frightening about looking into the face a predator created solely to murder your species, but at the same time, it was just Sleet.

As she looked closer, her eyebrows rose in surprise. "Your irises don't turn red, they constrict tight against the pupils and the blood vessels dilate." A small smile spread. She scooted closer in curiosity, and the panic in her glow evaporated. Her wings even rose slightly. "Do your eyes hurt?"

"No. Vision is sharp is all." There was something endearing about her being brave enough to be curious about what terrified others. "Don't think we aren't going to finish the conversation. I'm still mad." Stroking a thumb over the back of her hand helped to soften the words so she wouldn't be afraid.

Her smile grew. "I know, grumpy bear. You're a little less mad—your eyes are going back to normal." Then she frowned. "Not that they were abnormal…"

"It is abnormal." Wrapping an arm around her waist, he tugged her closer to rest her head on his chest. "I—"

She sat up and studied his eyes.

"Are you done with that yet?"

The growling didn't seem to faze her. "It's just not so scary." She grinned.

"I'm trying to be angry with you." He pulled her close again.

Her small hand stroked the middle of his stomach, above the navel where it wouldn't disturb the incisions. "I…" His eyes drifted shut and every muscle relaxed.

"Are you tired?" Her hand stopped.

His eyes popped open, the drowsy feeling gone. "Dewdrop, would you stop so I can yell at you?!" he barked.

She nuzzled closer and resumed stroking. "Alright, I'll be quiet."

But that desperately sleepy feeling returned, making his head loll and instant sleep come.

"Sleet?"

Something soft rubbed his cheek. It was such a wonderful sleep that there was no desire to wake up.

"Honey, it's dinnertime. You haven't eaten anything today."

Silvermist.

Blinking a few times, he rubbed his eyes. The late afternoon sun shined in. "Did I sleep all day?"

She smiled. "You did. You needed it."

"You shouldn't have let me. I need to figure out a battle plan that doesn't involve you."

But she eased onto the side of the bed with a mischievous smile. "You need rest. I think this makes you sleepy, like the bunnies." She gave long, slow strokes back and forth across his upper stomach.

Drowsiness hit again.

Her hand stilled, but the sound of a soft laugh forced his eyes open.

"Dammit, don't do that," he snapped and caught her hand to hold in his.

"It's adorable. I do that in bed to you sometimes, but I had no idea it actually makes you sleep. I thought you were just tired at bedtime from work. It's cute." The smile seemed to reach from the depths of her soul.

He scowled. "There's nothing adorable or 'cute' about an Alamur," he huffed.

Except she gave a sultry smile and leaned over him, with a hand on the bed next to his opposite hip. Her hair fell over one shoulder to stroke his chest. "I forgot," she purred. "You're a big, scary fairy." Her lips moved closer.

Swallowing hard, the beetle chirped a faster heart rate, and his hands slid over her hips and pulled her closer. "I'm still mad at you." It came out like a pathetic, breathless whisper as his eyes locked on her mouth.

She set a delicate hand on his chest, obviously knowing what that did to him—she smiled at the sound of the beetle practically singing a symphony. "I know you're still mad. I'll endure my punishment." Then she nipped his bottom lip.

It was too much. Pulling her against his chest, he crushed her mouth with a hungry kiss, needing to drink her in. The glow around his heart burned warm in a way it hadn't before, her love rushing in like a tidal wave. Every sense zeroed in on her rapid breathing, soft whimpers, hungry touch, sweet taste. Her every emotion became his, wrapped up in intense feelings of protectiveness to keep her safe. "Dewdrop," he panted between kisses, "I need you right now." His sugar was on fire for her, with an intensity it'd never been before.

Except she pulled away and shot to her feet.

His eyes opened in confusion. Then Spruce appeared in the doorway. Neverland, he'd never lost control that much to be so completely oblivious to the world.

"You're awake, good." Spruce entered and frowned at the beetle's racket. "Are you feeling alright?"

Silvermist glanced at him with red cheeks.

"Had a nightmare," he grunted, not pleased with the interruption.

"Oh."

The moment Spruce turned away, he couldn't help but give Silvermist a naughty smile.

Her entire face turned a lovely shade of red.

"How is the pain?" The healer drew up a syringe.

"Fine." He couldn't look away from Silvermist.

"Good. She napped against you, so I suspect a little more healing occurred. You're due in fifteen minutes for more pain petals, but I'd rather we give it early and keep on top of the pain." After he gave it, Spruce pulled on a glove and eased down the sheet farther to peel back the bandage.

Silvermist broke eye contact and stepped forward to look.

"Any soreness?" Spruce very lightly touched next to the stab wound where it was red.

"Not if I don't move," he grunted the obvious.

She leaned down closer. "Is it hot?"

Spruce nodded. "Probably an infection brewing."

Rolling his eyes, he dropped his head against the pillow. "Why the Neverland not?"

"Silvermist, what do you think?" Spruce straightened with a smile.

She pursed her lips for a moment and leaned down to look across the top of the incisions. "A rose hip sugar drip since it's not a superficial wound, probably paired with honey. Since there's no obvious swelling yet, just do a poultice of aloe, witch hazel, and pixie dust, and check it in four hours." Then she looked at Spruce for confirmation and straightened.

Neverland, she was gorgeous and a genius. The beetle chirped a little faster.

Spruce grinned. "Excellent! But because he's an Alamur," he added with one finger held up, "we also add in a drop of blood to suffocate the Creature's tissues."

Her eyes widened, and his glow flickered in response to her horror.

"No, no, we just need a tiny blood draw from a rabbit or squirrel or something. It doesn't need to die. Fawn can help with that." Spruce smiled. "We'll get that ready, and then I'll be back."

He caught her hand. "Sit. You're a little pale."

"I wasn't ready for that," she said weakly and sat in the chair, wiggling her legs. The color started to return to her cheeks.

Spruce felt the pulse at her wrist. "Better?"

She nodded. "Is it any kind of blood?"

"Yes. We'll probably use a mouse, since they're less likely to panic than a rabbit or squirrel." Spruce gave her shoulder a light pat, and he headed for the door.

"Dewdrop, come here."

But she looked after Spruce. "Or blood from my wing?"

"What? No!" His eyes flew to Spruce.

The healer stopped at the doorway and turned, glancing between them.

"Silvermist, no," he ordered. She was still nervous of her wings and frightened of blood. This was the last thing she needed.

"Would it work?" she pressed, ignoring him.

Spruce held his eyes as he glared the healer down. "It can be any blood."

"There doesn't need to be blood involved," he snapped.

"Actually, there does. The Queen gained some knowledge this evening that blood will suffocate a Creature's tissue. We need to put some blood on those incisions, especially now that an infection is setting in." Spruce then looked at her.

"Just use a damn animal!" he barked.

She slowly stood, fear growing stronger in her glow around his heart.

"Silvermist, please don't do this," he begged.

"It's just a poke," she replied softly, but kept her head turned away from where Spruce stepped forward and dug through her feathers to probably look for veins.

"Silver." His voice cracked.

"If I have any doubts that it's safe, we won't do it." Spruce glanced up.

Then she nodded and walked out.

"Dammit, Silvermist!" It was too much, and now she insisted on doing it alone, probably because she was going to cry. Grabbing the bed handle, he pulled himself to a sit and swung his legs over the edge of the bed, drawing deep breaths through the pain.

"Captain, stay." Spruce held out a hand and walked over. "I've read about this with humans who have an amputation. They need to adjust and get over the fear without anyone watching. She's trying to adjust to her new normal. If she gets too distraught, I won't do it."

His gut clenched with dread as he stopped trying to stand. "Promise that no matter how stubborn she is, if she remains this scared you won't do it," he said in a thick voice.

The healer nodded. "I've worked with her a lot over the years trying to figure out why she's so small. I love her as a friend. I'll take care of her." Spruce held out a hand.

He took it and gave a firm clasp, sealing Spruce's vow. Stress burned as Spruce left.

One minute. Time dragged by. Running a hand through his hair didn't help with nerves. Another glance at the clock.

Two minutes. He rubbed his chest, her glow around his heart sad. The flesh was slightly bumpy under his hand. Glancing down, the new mark over his heart from binding glows had scarred blue and rough, unlike her smooth and pale one. Probably from being a damn Alamur. As it if wasn't bad enough being a twisted murderer who could shred her apart at any moment, now his disgusting body needed blood. Her blood. The thought caused nausea.

Four minutes. Dammit to Neverland, this was too much stress. Pulling on the hospital gown at the foot of the bed, he grabbed the bedrail and drew a couple breaths to brace for getting up to go find her.

Standing, although mostly hunched, he clutched the railing and squeezed his eyes shut for a moment to breathe through the pain. Gravity wasn't playing nice with the infection that now burned deep inside.

He pulled out the I.V. Sliding off the garden snake and beetle, they started making racket.

"Enough!" The last thing needed was a nurse running in to stop him from getting to Silvermist.

They cowered on the counter with the bee.

Six minutes. A curse escaped. It'd taken too long to simply get up. Slowly shuffling to the end of the bed, he held his belly and took a deep breath to make it on his own to the wall near the door.

Finally reaching it and leaning a shoulder against the wall, sweat trickled down his brow. He panted like he'd just flow a thousand damn miles.

Dammit, the eye patch was back in the closet. Well, maybe everyone would run seeing an Alamur and leave him alone to find Silvermist. He got to the doorway.

Silvermist was coming down the crowded hall with Spruce. She looked up, as if sensing him, and broke into a run. Panic flooded her glow around his heart.

Before he could even move more than a step, she threw her arms around his chest and flung up her wings, blocking view of the hall. "Get in. Get in," she ordered and tried to turn him.

"You're alright?" The words came out in a breathless gasp, struggling to breathe fast enough through a new wave of pain.

"I'm fine. Spruce!"

He turned away from the door to appease her. Now that she was alright, the pain seemed worse.

"Neverland, Sleet! You're lucky that you didn't fall and really hurt yourself!" A large frame tucked under his arm, and Spruce set an ice pack against the incision. "Get in bed."

Sweet relief. For the most part. "She was sad—"

"And I said I'd take care of her," Spruce snapped. "Others besides you care about her and will look after her." He helped shuffle to the bed.

He eased into bed. Silvermist didn't look too pleased. A bandage was wrapped around her wing, right behind her shoulder. "What did you do that she needs that?!"

"I'll see to him from here." Silvermist spoke to Spruce in a calm tone like he wasn't even there.

Spruce paused at the end of the bed. At the last moment, Spruce reached under, pulled up two vines, and tied his ankles to the bed.

"What the Neverland?!"

The healer pulled the sheet over his feet again. "You've been warned several times about not getting up on your own. You can't bend over to untie these. Try to, and your wrists get tied, too." He held up a finger in warning. "I'm serious. You could fatally injure yourself. The healing is reversing because of the Creature infection, and you could end up in emergency surgery again just from that, let alone doing something idiotic like not letting us help you up. Don't try my patience." Then he marched out.

When he opened his mouth, Silvermist said, "No. I know what you're going to say. I'm not untying you when you're misbehaving and could hurt yourself. Furthermore, you almost revealed that you're an Alamur to a hall full of fairies. You need to settle down. I won't fade if I'm upset, I won't be murdered when I'm going to and from work, and a little needle doesn't qualify as needing to be rescued!"

He stared, speechless. She was supposed to be in tears from the wing blood draw. He'd just faced massive pain to come after her!

"And my wing is fine. Spruce put a bandage on for pressure to stop the bleeding. He said it can come off in a half hour." She straightened the sheet.

"I'll heal it—"

But she stepped back, set a hand on her hip, and pointed a finger. "You're trying to heal from an infection and two major surgeries. I will not perish from a poke!"

He scowled. "You're welcome that I was going to rescue you."

Her eyebrows rose. "I don't need rescuing. You're worse than Lord Milori is with the Queen." She pulled up the hospital gown and peeked under the ice pack.

His jaw dropped. "I am not!"

"Oh," she laughed, "you are. I don't think he would've dragged himself out of bed in this condition just because she was getting a blood draw. There is such a thing as being a hero, and then there's being an idiot." She tucked down the gown and sat on the edge of the bed when he was silent.

"Sleet, it makes me feel safe that you want to protect me." Her voice flowed gentle this time. "But I also need to trust that you aren't going to unnecessarily risk yourself in the process. This," she stated, sweeping a hand over him, "was not worth the risk to stop a poke for blood that I voluntarily gave because you need it to stop a fatal infection."

Put that way, it did sound stupid. Reaching under the sheet for a barrier, he held her hand. "I don't want you to be sad or scared."

"And I don't want you to be either, but it's not your job to ensure that I'm always happy. It's good to have all emotions, within reason. Your job is to love me, not make me happy every moment of every day." She scooted closer. "I asked Spruce, and he said that mates don't usually feel each other's emotions to the degree that we do. Sometimes it's overwhelming. I know that I'm more emotional than other fairies, so I suspect it's even more overwhelming for you. And Alamur aren't meant to have mates. You're not quite as gruff as when we met, and it feels like...like there's a hyper awareness of me."

Swallowing the embarrassment, it was easy to feel his cheeks burn as he glanced down at their hands. "I love you so much. Sometimes I feel so on edge, trying so hard…" He gave a watery laugh and brushed at his eye. "Keeper said that water fairies are very emotional; Alamur aren't. Sometimes I feel like all I'm doing is watching out for a flicker of sadness or fear, and trying to figure out how to stop it."

Her brow wrinkled with worry.

Bowing his head, he drew a shaky breath as his voice cracked. "Because I'm so afraid that if I don't squash it, you'll find out that some part of you is afraid of me. That you didn't even realize you were until that one moment." Pressing his lips together, he held his breath for a moment to swallow the lump in his throat.

"Sleet." She cupped his cheek, using his hair as a barrier to block the pain. "The only time I've ever been afraid of you was at the beach. But now that I understand you can't morph and lose your mind and want to kill me, I'm not scared anymore of your eyes changing. I've never been afraid of you. You don't need to worry like this."

"Here we are." Spruce walked in and stopped. "Am I interrupting?"

"No." She got up, but kept hold of his hand through the sheet.

He walked over with a bowl and handed it to Silvermist. "Do you want the honors?" Then he hung up a different I.V. bag. And blinked to see the end of the other tube on the floor. "Really? You had to rip out your I.V., too?" With a sigh, he got out more supplies. "You scared away the nurse, you know."

A quick glance at Silvermist to see if that made her nervous only revealed her fighting a smile. "Good," he grunted to Spruce.

She washed her hands, pulled on a glove, and then eased back the sheet, hospital gown, and ice pack. The incisions looked angrier than earlier. She reached to dip her fingers in the bowl of poultice and hesitated.

A flicker of fear. She was afraid of the blood.

"You don't need to do it."

She shook her head. "Don't look so you don't grossed out having blood on you."

A grin spread, despite Spruce stabbing a needle in his arm for a new I.V. "Blood hardly fazes me, much less yours."

Very gently, she scooped up the goo and spread it over one incision in a single, smooth motion.

Dropping his head back, he closed his eyes and breathed through the pain.

"Does it hurt?" Her fingers stilled.

"It burns," he gasped.

A soft wipe again. "The redness is fading already. It must be killing the Creature's tissue," Spruce said. "I'll see what else I can figure out to add in for pain medicine. Silvermist, keep going. Those incisions don't look good."

Wrapping a second sheet around herself when both Sleet and Spruce insisted the pain would be too much for her to handle, she held him through the night. Even sedation failed to knock him out for some reason.

The Queen suddenly arrived at one in the morning in her nightclothes, as if she'd come straight from bed.

Sleet was burning up and in tears, writhing so much that Spruce had tied him down for fear of the wounds tearing open. His glow didn't burn as bright anymore.

"What's happening? The infection looks like it's gone, but he's worse," she wept.

Queen Clarion stepped over to Sleet, with tears in her eyes. She took his hand and held fast. "More knowledge came. It's the Creature's tissues making a last effort to kill you. It's trying to torture and send the darkness. You...look at me, Sleet...you hold onto Silvermist with everything you've got. Keep a barrier between you, and the darkness won't get to her. Do you understand?" Her tone left no room for any argument.

He gave a small nod, gasping impossibly fast from the pain.

"Silvermist." The Queen stepped around the bed, grabbed her face, and blew pixie dust in. "You need as much dust as you can handle." Then she pulled up the sheet to Sleet's chin and blasted dust at all the restraints to cut them.

Sleet's arms immediately wrapped around her to hold tight. His entire body trembled in agony.

The Queen marched over to Spruce and said in low tones, "Ripping open the incisions is the least of his problems. Have a team ready for emergency surgery if it should happen." Then she turned and planted herself in the corner of the room.

Sleet seemed to try not to buck as he clamped his jaw shut, his hands almost clawing over her to try to find relief. And then he almost went limp, following the same pattern of exhaustion before seconds later another wave of torturing pain would come.

"Up." The Queen stood over the bed again.

She broke free of Sleet's grasp and sat up.

The Queen pulled back the sheet to bare his chest, and set a hand over his heart for a brief moment. "It's killing your dust. You know how this goes."

He gasped and panted, his body soaked in sweat, and he gave a small nod.

Queen Clarion leaned down until her lips almost touched his. She breathed out, and the pixie dust that he should've breathed in mostly scattered from his panting.

"Sleet, breathe deep." She set a hand on his arm to remind him as the Queen tried again.

When it failed a second time, the Queen pulled back a bit to look at him. "I think we have to do it like in the war."

With a frown of confusion, she looked between them and then at Spruce, who stood at the other side of the bed.

This time when Queen Clarion leaned down, her lips pressed to his, and she blew a long, deep breath.

His chest rose higher than it had in hours, and then he broke the contact and coughed, holding his stomach. His glow burned stronger as the coughing subsided, but he clutched his belly.

Then the Queen pulled the sheet down and used the bandage to wipe away the poultice on the incisions that were now tinged black instead of red. She rubbed her hands together and pixie dust floated down on the wounds.

The dust instantly turned black. With a shake of her head, she rubbed her own chest to surface dust and sprinkled that on him. It lasted a few seconds and then turned black. Queen Clarion looked at Sleet and felt his brow as he was lost to more pain. Then she marched to the window and flung it open, raising her arms to the night sky.

"Spruce, bind Silvermist's wings tight. Very tight." Once Spruce did, the queen added, "Silvermist, use water to get the dead dust off him—don't touch him." Then the Queen seemed focused on something outside.

Turning on the faucet, she formed a water droplet as big as her hand. Guiding it to him, she eased it onto his skin so slowly that he wouldn't be able to feel it. It gathered a spec of dust at a time, and then she moved down to clean the incisions very carefully.

A soft whimper escaped him.

"I'm sorry. I'll slow down."

Spruce stepped forward to look at the incisions and swore under his breath. "I thought the blood was supposed to help. He has gangrene." He spun around to the Queen.

"It did. The Creature's tissues are almost dead, but they're killing anything they adhered to." She turned from the window with a swirling ball of pixie dust floating just above her hands. "Get the water off. Silvermist, as I put this on the wounds, press your heart to his. Sleet, I have to force the raw dust through the dead tissues to heal them. We need you to not fight us."

"Silver...pain," he panted.

The Queen nodded. "She's going to get your pain and the darkness, but it's going to allow me to heal you. And you're going to hold onto her so you can heal her right away."

He shook his head vigorously, his shaking hands clutching the sheet over his heart so she couldn't reach.

"Sleet, I promise that if you do what I say, she'll be alright. If you fight us, it could be fatal to all of us."

"Clarion," Spruce said, looking at the door.

Lord Milori stood there with the sleeping princess in his arms, fear in every line of his face.

"No," Sleet gasped. "I'm just...Alamur."

The Queen tore her eyes away from Lord Milori. "You're one of my fairies, Sleet," she answered gently. "We need to do this while the raw dust is still powerful enough. Milori, give Spruce the baby and come. I'm going to need you to heal me."

Sliding down her strap, she leaned down close and eased the sheet from his hands.

His lower lip quivered as he shook his head again.

Her own heart pounded in nervousness if this would work. "It's okay," she whispered as tears welled.

"Whatever you do, don't let go over Silvermist, Sleet," the Queen ordered. "One, two, three!"

She pressed her heart to his, and an entire world of pain and darkness exploded.

All the pain vanished, and the split second was enough time to tighten his grip on Silvermist. A sugar-curdling scream ripped out of her, and she bucked and fought to break free with everything she had. Her head slammed into his jaw. She clawed, drawing sugar, in the insanity that took over his dewdrop. The pain had been driving him, an Alamur, to the brink of insanity; it was enough to kill a Bright Fairy instantly; for a siren...she had perhaps seconds or minutes. Tears fell, clinging to the hope that the Queen was right that she'd be alright if he didn't let go.

Her entire body went so rigid that she trembled, a strangely muffled scream of horror. He locked his arms tight as her wings started to break the bindings. Her wings were so powerful that she could hurt herself or break free of his grasp. It took every ounce of strength to hold onto her. To keep her safe.

And then she went slack as her glow faded dimmer and dimmer. "Silvermist?" Her glow around his heart grew weak.

The Queen fainted and Lord Milori went to work healing.

He pulled Silvermist into his lap, keeping her heart pressed to his. "Silvermist, wake up. I love you. Silvermist, look at me," he croaked. Tears blurred her. Then he looked up as the Queen regained consciousness and stood on her own. "Why isn't she waking up?"

Lord MIlori stepped away from the Queen and pulled on his shirt.

The Queen turned and hovered her hand just above where his chest pressed against Silvermist's. "It's getting stronger. She went to the brink of death, so it's taking longer to heal her. Think of all the reasons you love her, and it'll heal her glow faster."

Pressing his cheek to her head on his shoulder, a tear fell. "I love you. I loved you the moment you walked up to me and weren't afraid. Every day you find ways to make me love you more than I ever thought possible for any creature. You're so beautiful and brave and intelligent." The glow began to shift from ice cold to slightly warm.

"All I knew was darkness, and then when I came here, loneliness. You're my sun, dewdrop. You fit me when no one is supposed to. Not a day goes by when I can't wait for you to wake up because I'm bursting to talk to you." He stroked her hair and cradled her close. And the glow burned hotter.

"There are so many things I want to experience with you. And we need to have a baby yet, dewdrop." It burned so hot that it almost hurt. But she still didn't awaken. Another tear fell. She had to wake up. She had to.

"In almost seven hundred years, we're going to fade together. I love you so much that I know my glow will go out at the same moment as yours, because I'll follow you anywhere, my Silvermist."

She started to stir.

The Queen sniffled and turned away against Lord Milori's chest.

Silvermist gave a soft sigh-hum and turned her head. The glow cooled like it had finished healing. When he eased her back in his arms, she blinked a few times, as if tired. And then the most radiant smile that put the sun to shame brightened her face. "You're alright."

She was the one who nearly faded. A laugh barked out that melted into tears as he crushed her to him.

"Sleet," she giggled the next morning in bed at home. "You're supposed to be sleeping. Healer Spruce said you could come home only if you rested."

"I am resting—I'm in bed." His hand slid under the sheet to adjust her wing, and he kissed her neck.

She forced a frown. "I let you get away with mating once this morning."

He actually grinned like a fool. "I can't help it. The frenzy didn't happen, probably because our glows are fully bound, and now I can worship you instead of panicking that the frenzy will set in." Then he caught her mouth with his as his wings started to buzz. "Neverland, dewdrop, you're gorgeous."

Another giggle as he moved down to her jaw and neck. "You're not even looking."

"I don't have to look to know," he rumbled deep in his chest.

Waking up later that morning, she rolled over. In an empty bed. She sat up, and her heart melted.

Sleet sat shirtless by the window with a needle and thread in hand and her robe in his lap. When she reached to the foot of the bed and pulled on her nightgown, he looked up.

"I thought you'd sleep longer." A smile softened his face.

She stepped over and set a hand on his shoulder.

"The silk spider will need to make the laces and extra material to cover your wings, but the eyelets and snaps are in place. I caught the hook of one of the eyelets, so I'm just using some silk thread to sew it before it runs." He brought the material up and carefully threaded in two more stitches.

Leaning in over his shoulder, she squinted. "I can't even see where you fixed it. Where did you learn to sew that well?"

He shrugged. "We had to make our own clothes once a year in the Alamur army. I found that if I took my time, my clothes lasted longer." Then he finished and folded it up. "I'll get dressed and run it—"

She stopped him with a kiss and threw her arms around his neck.

When she pulled back, he smiled. "What was that for?"

This time, she shrugged. "For being so sweet. You're the only one who has ever made anything for me." Then she ran over to the closet and retrieved an item. Trotting back over, she held it behind her back with both hands. "I had nervous energy while you were in the hospital, so when I couldn't sleep, I made this."

Silvermist smiled so proudly and held out something blue and knitted. It looked like a tiny hat, with a misshapen protrusions out the sides.

Forcing a smile and frantically running through possibilities of what it could be so as not to hurt her feelings, he took it. "Thank you, dewdrop." He turned it over and over. What in Neverland was it?

"I thought maybe it'd help in winter." She beamed.

A hat? It couldn't possibly be. His hand wouldn't even fit in it. "It certainly will."

"Try it."

He blinked and looked up. She waited expectantly. It couldn't be mittens—there was only one. A pouch? Neverland, what was it?

She frowned. "Your sword is too heavy for me to carry."

Sword? What did this have to do with that? Getting up, he went over to where his sword sat propped in the corner. Lifting it with one hand, he turned toward her.

She took the blue item and pushed his hand aside from the hilt to instead hold it balanced in his hands. Then she fitted the gift over the hilt of the sword. "It'll keep the handle warm when you're in winter so your hands won't get cold."

A hearty belly laugh burst out. Never would that have been his guess. Then he pulled her against his chest and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "That certainly will be handy in winter."

It wasn't exactly practical to have to pull off a hilt warmer in the middle of an attack, but she didn't need to know he'd carry it rather than use it. Just like the rainbow pad she'd made for his weapon's holster so it wouldn't dig into his shoulder if he had to fill it with weapons—but it'd certainly give away his hiding place. She tried so hard to give what she thought were essential gifts, but the sentiment was endearing all the same.

"This afternoon, we're going to start self-defense training. I should've taught you long ago."

She rolled her eyes.

He dropped the sword and pushed her up against the wall, slipping the nightgown straps off her shoulders. "Oops." The corner of his mouth tugged up.

His little dewdrop gave a naughty smile, and then she ducked under his arm. She sashayed to the bed, letting her wings untuck just enough for the feathers to swoosh with each step. Then she slowly sat and raised her wings as she crossed her legs, looking quite pleased as he swallowed hard and had to hold onto the dresser from his wings buzzing so fast.

Neverland, she was stunning, so confident in her body.

She gave a small flap of her wings, almost as if shaking them out.

And he almost fell to his knees. There was something about her wings, and the fact that she was becoming more confident in them, that drove him wild.

"Are you coming?" A soft smile bloomed over her lips. Her wings lowered just enough to cup around her, and she gave a seductive smile as she disappeared inside.

Scrambling over, he gave soft strokes over her silky feathers. Her soft gasp of desire caused her wings to part enough to let him inside. He captured her mouth and lowered her back onto the bed as her wings stayed up, keeping them in their own world.

"Dewdrop, you're so beautiful," he breathed between kisses and stroked her wing.

"Love me," she panted, tangling her legs with his and wrapping her arms around him. "Love me for hours, my Sleet."

It was the most tender, passionate lovemaking yet. Not having to fight the frenzy anymore gave time to truly focus on her. And it took his breath away, as if his body and heart truly became one with hers each time.

The hours of passion had left her tired enough to sleep, but he couldn't get enough of her, not having that dark frenzy to be afraid of anymore. So he held her as she napped.

She shifted in her sleep, pulling the sheet down. He reached to pull it up so she wouldn't chill, but a glow under the sheet caught his eye. Leaning up on his elbow, he pulled it back and frowned.

A small golden glow shined from her lower belly, as if coming from inside. He brushed at it, but it didn't move. It didn't seem to bother her. He'd have to ask Spruce if it meant she was fertile again now after the wing transition. But he didn't recall a glow ever being there before.