They passed through the air dragon hunting grounds safely thanks to Davion. They continued until sunset when Davion suddenly stopped to survey their surroundings. Fymryn inched closer to him in case he sensed danger. She could still hear the dragons snapping the deer's bones like twigs, the memory made her stomach lurch. The growing shadows could be hiding anything, maybe even dragons … or maybe that woman was still hunting her down for the lotuses. This time, however, he looked calm.
"We'll set up camp here. It should be safe enough for the night." Davion explained. Trusting his word, Fymryn let out a sigh of relief and began preparations. They were safe here: He was here. She glanced over her shoulder at him. Strong, tall, brave: he was the living symbol of protection. Beside him, Marci unloaded the giant cat. It didn't hurt to have a woman with superhuman strength in the group either. Yes, they were quite safe.
She could breathe easy, or at least she did until Mirana drew near. For the first time that day, Mirana approached Davion as though she'd been waiting for Fymryn to step away. What did she want? She stayed far enough away but close enough to catch snippets of their conversation.
"She talks to you." She heard her say. Her ears burned and she held her breath in anticipation of what he would say. She wasn't sure why, but it filled her with anxiety and anticipation.
"Yeah, about life, trees. You know she has eighty-seven words for moonlight. None of which I can pronounce." He chuckled.
She smothered a laugh as she began gathering sticks nearby, but then it dawned on her. Mirana might tell him about the elf that stole the lotuses. Did she recognize her? Did she know? She forgot Davion wasn't the only one in the group hiding secrets.
"She sounds endlessly delightful," Mirana said flatly with a tone that was anything but delighted. "But she didn't say anything about me or …"
She needed to stop her. "Looks good to me," Fymryn interjected, smiling innocently.
"Luxury accommodations." He laughed, her new favorite sound, especially since it irritated the other woman. That sound melted away all her worries. She didn't know what she liked more: his laugh or his smile. She was absolutely enamored with him, which made her all the more confused. If this woman was his lover, how could she stay angry at him? Why wouldn't she kiss him? How could she keep herself away from them? And how could he be lovers with such a serious and reserved woman? She started to wonder if she imagined that kiss at the Invoker's tower. They had barely spoken to each since they left, let alone kiss. Perhaps it had something to do with his secret. Perhaps tonight she would find out what that was. When he woke from his nightmare, she would ask him. She would be waiting.
"Oh, You were saying," He said mockingly.
Mirana walked off in a huff, muttering. "Not a word. Going to have a slumber party. Chat the night away."
Fymryn smiled. Yes they were.
Around the fire, after hours of walking, she finally had a moment to relax and appreciate his company. Mirana and Marci were hunting for their dinner. She preferred their time alone. No, not alone, together. She felt anything but alone with him.
Sitting beside him, she felt a warmth that she thought emanated more from him than from the fire. She could feel it inside her: A warmth that had been extinguished with the loss of her family. His humor reminded her of Dyfed. His bravery of Idwal, and his kindness reminded her of Adara. It was odd, she hadn't known him very long, but he felt like family. She hoped he felt the same way. She fumbled with her fingers. He seemed to. She searched his face by the firelight. He looked smitten with her. That could not be a trick of the flames. She returned his smile. Oh please, Mene let him love her.
The moon rose and the woods behind them grew dark with shadow. She sat closer to him, thinking of the woman who had hunted down her family in the night. He was only inches from her. She could smell him and feel him, and if she had to describe both with one word it would be warm. She leaned over just enough until their shoulders and elbows brushed.
"Tell me about your family," she said.
"Not much to say. They died when I was a boy. Killed by a Dragon. It's why I became a dragon knight."
"I'm sorry," she said, remembering his night terrors, the bottles of whiskey, the fear in his eyes. A memory like that would certainly cause nightmares.
"Do you have nightmares about it?"
He tensed but she continued. She might never get another opportunity to bring it up without sounding invasive. "You wake in the night. Every night. Must be terrible."
"You know about that?" He stared into the flames as though he saw something there. Memories, no doubt.
"I'm sorry. I should have said something before. If you need to talk."
"No, he said and then more softly, "Thank you."
"I have nightmares too." She admitted in case he was feeling shame. He needed to know he wasn't alone in his pain. Thanks to him, she wasn't either. His mouth parted and his gaze softened. His hand moved towards her, his fingers gripping hers. "What about?"
Idwal, Dyfed, Adara. Memories flashed like lightning, burned into her mind. She reeled, felt like she was falling, but his hand held her in this moment, his eyes kept her from spiraling, from drowning in those memories. She gripped his hand tightly.
"Fymryn are you ok?" He whispered.
She met his eyes that held her like an embrace. Trusting, caring, safe. She hadn't spoken of their deaths—hadn't told anyone what happened to them, except for the Invoker, but no one had to tell him anything. She was sure he already knew. Was probably watching the entire time and only stepped in to save her. But maybe she could tell Davion. Maybe he'd understand. Maybe he'd say it wasn't her fault. Maybe he'd heal her where Mene could not. She had prayed and there he was. Praise, Mene for sending Davion to her.
She could tell him, finally unload the burden of her grief. But first, she leaned forward, drawn to him like the ocean to moonlight. She kissed his cheek, very near the lips. She pulled away, searching his face for signs of consent. His soft gaze and parted lips were enough for her to lean in again. She stopped at a sudden noise in the woods and bristled. She wasn't afraid. He kept her safe. She knew it was Mirana and Marci. She almost wished it was a dragon instead. Cochi. It would be some time before they were alone again. They joined them and Marci prepared the rabbit. Davion kept talking to Fymryn, but his focus darted to Mirana, his hand left hers.
Her heart stung. It all made sense now. Why he walked with her. Why he talked to her. It wasn't because he liked her. It was because he was avoiding Mirana.
Now she felt alone again. She scooted away from him, leaving enough distance for the cold air and the shadows to get between them. She drew her knees up and wrapped herself in her arms.
Under her lowered eyelashes, she observed her group. He was more than a guide. This women, this callous woman. They were friends, family. The kiss on the balcony. Her jealousy. Their bickering. This was his pod, and she wasn't a part of it.
"You're quiet." His voice drew her out of her rumination.
"I'm just … I'm not good at being alone. You're lucky your pod is with you."
"Gods mercy." Mirana muttered and Marci choked on her rabbit. Her fault for taking such big bites.
Taken aback. "I thought."
"The three of us. We're not."
"So it's true about humans. You have just one lover."
"One lover at a time." Davion corrected her. "Usually." He grinned mischievously with a sidewise glance in Mirana's direction. It didn't require the Invoker's level of genius to know who his one lover was at the moment.
"One person: the same person every night?" She said incredulously, watching Mirana who stiffly sat with her arms folded. How could she be his lover? It just wasn't right. Wasn't fair. Based on his history with women, he would leave her eventually. But the way he looked at her, acted around her, it seemed more serious.
"I get it the more the merrier in certain circumstances-" He stroked his chin thoughtfully.
Davion was silenced by Mirana, but he continued obviously intrigued.
"It must get crowded, which is … Not good," He said for lack of a better word.
"But were family. Always in it together."
"Your family is waiting for you in Coedwig?"
She glanced at him despairingly and drew her knees up to her chin. "No one is waiting for me. The dark moon order made sure of it."
"I'm sorry." He touched her shoulder. Through the comforting weight of his hand, she felt an earnest and genuine empathy. She recalled the story of how he lost his own family, violently to an enemy. At least he didn't have to travel with his.
"Don't you dare pity her." Mirana's voice was cold as she stood, her stance as challenging as her words. "This is her doing, her choice."
Fymryn bristled.
"Wait what?" Davion looked to her for some sort of explanation, but she couldn't speak, couldn't move. Only listen helplessly while Mirana continued her attack.
"Selfish, stupid and for what? Senseless deaths, a war no one asked for. You came to the night silver woods. You stole the lotuses. The blood is on your hands and now your going to tell me what the real game is."
Not one more word. Fymryn stood, drawing her weapons. Mirana just as quickly pulled out her bow. "My family is dead, slaughtered."
Davion stepped between them. "We're not doing this," he said more of a plea than a command.
"Why did you hide who you really were? Why did you say nothing?"
She had never spoken to her and now suddenly a barrage of accusations and questions. It wasn't her fault. Couldn't be. She had taken the lotuses as the stories said. She'd done everything the stories said. Mene was supposed to return. She was supposed to go home. Instead, she was here with her enemy.
She looked desperately from Mirana to Davion. Did he believe her? Would he think it was her fault? Blame her for all the death the Invoker showed them in his magic pools. If he did, he'd hate her, just like Mirana.
"I just want to go home." She cried. She broke the stalemate, heading to the woods. She didn't know where she was going. It wasn't home but it was away from Mirana and that was good enough. But her words followed her. Her doing … Her choice. No, she was wrong. Tears and shadows obscured her vision. She was lost. She didn't care.
She sat on a sturdy tree branch. There was no need for shadow cloaking; her dark clothes and stillness would hide her. She sighed. No one was looking for her anyway.
The sound of approaching feet contradicted her. "Fymrin come back it's not safe."
Davion. She held her breath.
"I know you're there. I'm sure Mirana didn't mean what she said, well not all of it. Please come back. We've all too much already."
She barely caught the last part as his voice lowered to a whisper. She watched him go, pulled towards him, wanting to follow him. Wanting to run into his arms. He didn't hate her. He still cared. It was more than she hoped for, but she didn't dare. Mirana was there. Her enemy. She would not subject herself to her accusations. "The blood is on your hands." She looked at her hands in the moonlight. They were clean. A little dirt, that's all. It wasn't her fault. It couldn't be. Mene was supposed to return. She was the one chosen to do it. How dare she blame her. How dare she when she was the one serving an evil goddess. When her army was destroying the enclaves, spilling the blood of the elves. When she was bringing the lotuses to that usurper.
If the lotuses were returned to Selemene, this would be for nothing. All this blood. This death. Her family. Everything she'd lost. She reached into her pocket and found the coin, holding it to the moonlight. She gritted her teeth. It could not be for nothing. If no one would help her, she would do this herself.
The fire was beginning to burn low, but a lamp was lit inside Mirana's tent. Mirana and Marci were not yet asleep. She listened. Could hear her bitching inside her tent. Cochi. Would she ever shut up? At last she heard snoring and waited for the lamp to be put out. A gentle breeze stirred the tent flap and gave her quick glimpses of the box that held the lotuses. She stepped forward, but Davion was still awake, laying in his usual spot outside the tent. From here his face looked haunted. Maybe it was the shadow of the firelight. Maybe it was memories of his childhood. Or maybe he was worried about her. She gulped, resisting the urge to go to him. She regretted if this hurt him somehow, if this betrayed him, but she had to take them back. There was no other way.
She teleported to the shadows at the corner of the tent. It was too easy. She lifted the box and walked out with only the whisper of a noise. She paused outside the tent to hear if anyone stirred. Marci snored softly. Nearby, Davion turned in his sleep restlessly. She hugged the box to her chest. Leaving him was harder than she thought. She didn't want to say goodbye, but she didn't want him to see her leave either. He might try to stop her, or at least she hoped he would. She closed her eyes. It was better this way. She watched him as she stepped by him, pausing. In the light of the dying fire, his face was sad, serious, lonely. She reached out to touch him, to comfort him but pulled back. As the fire finally died, moonlight touched his face. Mene's light. What had she wanted from him? Now she would never know.
"Goodbye Davion," she said and vanished into the woods.
