A Bargain Made of Iron and Blood by Guinevere Leigh

Author:Guinevere Leigh [Leigh, Guinevere]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Independent
Published: 2022-12-31T18:30:00+00:00

21

The Faerie

I moved over to the side of the bed where cool, crisp sheets were waiting for me. Shivering, as I felt the mattress shift and Oren’s warmth start to radiate off of his body as he pulled up the covers for both of us.

The two of us stared into the dark, listening to the sound of rain begin to pour outside in hard pelts.

Neither of us moved.

“Thank you,” I whispered, so quiet I wasn’t sure he heard. “For waking me.”

“Of course,” he whispered back, something hoarse in his voice.

I was having a nightmare. It was the same one that plagued me most nights since my parent’s deaths, and I was grateful to have gotten out of it.

“How are your hands?” Oren asked quietly. In response, I lifted them in the air for the both of us to see in the moonlight.

My blisters were no longer angry and reddened. The pain too, had faded mostly. Instead, pink and white scabs had taken their place, and by this time tomorrow, they would likely be as good as new.

That’s good, Oren said down the bond. I’m glad there isn’t more lasting damage.

I wondered what had caused this shift in him. It was strange, like he cared about my wellbeing.

After a long stretch of silence, I found myself asking him, What are you thinking?

He was quiet for so long I thought he must’ve fallen asleep, but when he opened his mouth, I turned to face him. He closed his mouth tightly and turned to stare back at me.

Your nightmare. The only person I’ve ever seen affected so powerfully has been my mother. It feels rude to ask, but I was wondering what was the cause of them.

His warmth and mine felt stifling under the covers. I flung the top quilt off of me and looked back up into the darkness.

I’m sorry, he said, sighing. You don’t have to tell me. I shouldn’t have asked something like that.

It’s all right, Oren, I replied, my words coming out harsher than I meant. He kept quiet as he stared at me, and I tried hard not to look at him, at the blankets that had shifted, revealing his bare chest.

It might be easier to—to show you.

Before he had a chance to reply, I closed my eyes and put myself back at the beginning of my nightmare. I had them so much that they were practically memories by now. My muscles tensed in response, but when I felt Oren’s mental presence next to me, I was able to relax again.

* * *

I took Oren to the meadow in front of my home, to a time where it was much more beautiful than when he had seen it. Begonias and bluebells bloomed and wisteria covered the roof in delicate tendrils.

My mother and father and I had been gardening together when that faerie prince had arrived on some sunny day.

In my dreams, I always lingered on this version of my parents—of my mother’s long, silver hair that she tied back with whatever leftover fabric scraps she had found that day.

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