Wilderwood

by Halli Starling

  Roderick shook his head. Of course. It made complete sense. Everything was connected. Witches were conduits through which energy flowed. Anyone sensitive to it could see the latticework of ley lines beneath their world, and more importantly, tap into that energy. Even reach other people across continents or oceans. “I can write down what I remember from their words. I think documenting what we know is important.”

  Octavia leaned forward, her elbows on her knees, face pensive. “The wards are weak. A portal from the Faelands opened, maybe with consent from the Queen. Bel has returned. Your feral vampire is on the loose near here.”

  “No coincidences survive the harsh light of truth. And yet that same truth eludes us.” Roderick finished setting the bodies to rights and sighed. “Could we leave? Despite my studies and expertise, I’ve never liked lingering around death.”

  Octavia cracked a rare grin at that. Something about her sharp-toothed smile opened space in his ribs that made him suck in a breath. “And yet you stay in a vampire’s home. Curious.”

  Roderick blinked. Was she teasing him? With a nod, he stripped out of the thick apron and gloves, tossing them on an empty table, and headed upstairs. Octavia followed with a sigh, pulling the heavy door shut behind her.

  ***

  Bel paced. They’d wear a trail into the carpet at this rate but they didn’t care. None of it made sense. Queen Svronna of the Fae Courts was a vile, manipulative, petty creature who above all else desired power and obeisance. Bel didn’t often see true evil in the faces of even the creatures they’d hunted as a Ranger, but Queen Svronna was just that. Complete and true evil, wrapped in white bandages and chiffon and midnight red roses.

  They’d spent their entire time in the Faelands running from the Queen’s hounds, for as soon as Svronna had heard of their appearance in her realm, Bel was a target. The longer they’d been there, the more they discovered that Svronna was likely the reason they couldn’t get back to Wilderwood. Back to home, and to Octavia.

  If Svronna had her hands in this mess, Bel would finish it. For good.

  A knock at their door gave them pause. It was obviously Octavia, come to check on them, come to fill them in. Bel let their eyes close for a moment as they said, “Be right there.”

  “It’s just me, Bel.”

  I can smell you on the other side of that two-inch wood door, my love. I was never able to smell you like that before. And now I smell….everything. The entire world is somehow bigger and smaller because of my time in the Faelands.

  They’d have to tell Octavia eventually. As powerful of a vampire as she was, she wasn’t magical save for a few tricks, like holding Roderick in place at the inn. And vampires and fae rarely crossed paths. Octavia not being able to sense what they were now was not surprising.

  Bel would have to tell her eventually. But not tonight.

  They crossed the room in quick steps and opened the door to see Octavia holding out a bottle of wine. “I thought it might help. I’m kind of acting as go-between for you and Roderick. For now. Until everyone’s on the same page.”

  They stepped aside with a small smile and let Octavia into the room. She was old paper and dragon’s blood and oakmoss and jasmine.

  Time spent in the library with her books and pouring over maps. Time in the herb garden with Maribelle as they tried to shoo Beep Beep out of the greens. Time in the salon with her plants, tending to them with delicate hands that dare not bruise a single perfect petal.

  “Bel?”

  Bel snapped their head up and gave her an abashed look. “Sorry. It’s been a long day.”

  “Something I aim to rectify with this,” and she hefted the wine bottle, “and some information.”

  Bel sat on the bed while Octavia uncorked and poured and talked about what had happened - Roderick’s arrival, his personal quest, the timeline of Bel’s appearance next to his in Wilderwood, and what they’d learned from the bodies mere feet below them. “It’s too much to be coincidence,” she murmured, sipping the wine from her seat at the little desk in the room.

  “Your other Ranger seems to think so.”

  Octavia scowled. “He’s not my Ranger. That’s you.”

  They gave her a knowing look. “And yet the way he looked at you tonight says otherwise.”

  Octavia spluttered rather inelegantly around a mouthful of wine. “I thought we were talking about more serious matters, Bel.”

  Their smile grew crooked and endearing. It was an expression they knew melted Octavia’s heart every time. “You don’t deny it.”

  That earned them a scowl. “I don’t have the faintest what you’re talking about.” She stood and crossed to them, crowding in between their legs which parted in invitation. “You are my only concern right now.”

  Bel plucked the glass from her hand and set it aside, instantly returning to run their palms over her hips. “And how much of that concern have I earned, freshly back from the Faelands?”

  The moment the words left Bel’s lips they’d known it was a mistake. Octavia’s face twisted into something inscrutable. “More than you know,” she said softly, swallowing hard. “You just got back. I’m not….we’re….” Octavia sighed and pushed a hand through her hair, her ring snagging on a lock. Frustrated, she tore her hand away with a growl.

  Bel knew they were both thinking about their life together, prior to their disappearance. It had been a slow slide into more than just romantic nights by the fire or stolen moments between long days of research and hunting. They’d fallen into each other with an earnestness that bordered on reverence. But there was lust, too. They’d taken their time learning each other’s bodies and wants, what made Bel shiver or Octavia gasp.

  And Octavia was so delightfully vocal. Even the memories of her moans made Bel draw in a deep breath as she stared down at them, eyes dark. Bel tightened their grip on Octavia’s hips. “I’ve no claims on you,” they said softly, all teasing gone. “Roderick is attractive, athletic. And that’s not to say that I know your wants or tastes so well to push you in one direction.” They smirked just a little. “He does remind me of that trader who passed through....”

  Octavia bit her lip, squirming in Bel’s grip. After a long moment of her searching Bel’s face, she looked away, color rising on her cheeks. “That was fun.”

  “It was.”

  Devon was a traveling blacksmith and had made a route near Wilderwood a few months after Octavia and Bel’s encounter in the cave. Their relationship was new still and navigating a tumble into bed with an additional person had been a tad awkward.

  At first.

  Devon had been an exquisite lover, with large, broad hands and a rough voice but kind eyes. He’d spent only a few minutes watching Octavia and Bel together before pulling Octavia to him, holding her while Bel chased her pleasure with hands and tongue.

  But as red as Octavia’s face was now, her voice was iron as she said, “I’ve work to do to keep Wilderwood safe, and we’ve work to do. A….a….fling is not on my mind right now.” The ramrod stiffness of her spine said otherwise, but Bel wasn’t going to point that out.

  Bel leaned into her touch as Octavia cradled their jaw delicately. “You’d be well within your right. Two years is a long time to make up for. And you’ve needs like anyone else.” Their eyes glittered. “He is handsome.” Something shattered across Octavia’s face then and Bel wanted to wipe it away. “I wasn’t even sure if you’d feel the same.” Their smile was back, but this was smaller, more fragile now. “I missed you.”

  Octavia knelt before them, hands on Bel’s knees, her gaze imploring. “Bel. Beloved. I never wanted anyone else. Whatever words we parted on, they were temporary. Momentary. No more permanent than the direction of the wind. I was angry and hurt and I am so sorry -”

  Bel cut them off with a kiss and sudden movement, using their strength and height to take them both down to the bed, pulling Octavia over their own body. Octavia let out a noise of surprise but didn’t move away. She leaned into the kiss, meltin
g into their arms.

  “He is quite pretty, though,” Bel murmured against her lips, drawing a scoff from Octavia. “You know he is. And you know how tough the life of a Ranger is. How lonely.”

  Octavia drew back to poke them in the shoulder, running her tongue over a fang. “Were you always this terrible?”

  They shrugged. “Being away from you for so long gave me a lot of time to think.” They leaned in and pressed a kiss to her jaw. “To remember how you smell.” Another kiss was placed at the hollow of her throat. “How you taste.”

  Octavia groaned. “If you’re trying to undo me -”

  Bel chuckled. “Is it working?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good.”

  Nine

  Octavia awoke in a tangle of warm limbs and twisted bedsheets. She smiled over at Bel limp in sleep. They hadn’t done more than kiss and fondle, Bel’s exhaustion winning out over anything more physical. But Octavia had hesitated, too. There was something odd about Bel now; something ephemeral and indescribable. She couldn’t even give it a name.

  Just a feeling.

  Their touch had always sparked something deep within her body. Bel’s magic echoed in her sin marks like an opera in a cave. It answered the call of her own magic, what little she had in her veins. What had occurred in the bath the previous night had been a strange display that neither could explain.

  It had certainly been romantic, those little lights twinkling around them before winking out like stars swallowed by the sunrise. But like so many things in the last few days, nothing made sense.

  Octavia also didn’t believe in coincidence. She didn’t get to be a few centuries old on her wits alone. A healthy suspicion of anything new had served her well. And when it came to anything related to the Faelands, she knew better than to trust it.

  She closed her eyes and swallowed hard. That was what had stopped her from more last night. Not Bel’s sleepy smiles or the still-present shiver of pain at seeing them again.

  Two years in the Faelands, where things were so wildly different. Time meant nothing, magic lived in everything - including the air - and the beings were as devious as they were beautiful. It was Bel who had come back, and it wasn’t. It wasn’t a doppler or mimic, it wasn’t a walker wearing Bel’s skin.

  But their blood was different. Sweeter, like ripe berries in the hot summer sun. Those few drops had left a cloying taste on her tongue that even the wine hadn’t washed away completely. And for the first time in some long while, Octavia didn’t know what to make of this.

  It was Bel, and it wasn’t. And that was the only answer she had for now.

  Her thoughts drifted as she stared at the ceiling, listening to Bel’s soft breathing beside her. Their arm was limp, flung against her side in a messy arc. Light as air, Octavia ran her fingertips over their skin. There was a new scar, still slightly raised and pink, along their forearm; jagged, like a tear in the skin from a claw or a fang.

  “From a paraken,” Bel murmured, rolling over into Octavia and hooking a knee over hers. “They’re these little creatures with two heads and four arms. Strange conjoined twins of a sort.” Bel huffed, held out their hands to show the approximate size, no bigger than a house cat. “They’re fine if they keep their distance, but they like to sneak into camps in the middle of the night and steal things, mostly trinkets. But when they started tracking our group and stealing food and daggers, Ellisar put a stop to it.”

  “Ellisar?” Octavia traced the scar again. “One of the court refugees you mentioned?”

  They nodded. “The leader of them, actually. Very much what a fanciful artist or writer might think a fae elf looks like. Long dark hair, bright blue eyes, smooth skin. But he’s...was...fierce. Like a jeweled dagger.” Bel blew out an irritated breath. “I don’t know if that makes sense.”

  Bel hadn’t spoken about the refugees in any detail, had only mentioned their existence and how they were saved by a group of them not long after their arrival in the Faelands. But their voice held a distinct note of respect when talking about Ellisar in particular, so Octavia latched onto that. “What kind of leader was he, this Ellisar?” she asked, tucking some of Bel’s hair behind their ear.

  Bel snorted. “Reluctant.” Their expression turned thoughtful. “Grouchy as all hells, too. But the second day I was with them, he kept me under guard while he and some of the refugees investigated the spot where I came through. Gods, he was furious when he came back, but not at me.” They pulled the crystal out from their loose linen shirt and turned it until the early morning light fractured through its surface.

  Octavia watched the beams of light shift across the walls. The color was enchanting, a seafoam green that turned almost blue at the ends. She could see the tiniest bit of a crack still present in the stone, where Bel had said the crystal had taken on spidery black veins once they’d passed into the Faelands. “Why was he angry?”

  “He found evidence of the Queen’s magic all over that clearing where I’d come through. And deathtwig had started growing there, which is one of her trademark plants.” Bel closed their hand around the crystal with a scoff. “So the Queen was playing with me from day one. Fractured my only way out of her realms, unhallowed part of her own forest…”

  They turned to Octavia, eyes soft as they said, “Took you from me. I’ll always hate her for that most of all.”

  “Did you ever meet her?” Octavia frowned. “I suppose ‘meet’ is a strong word.”

  “I did. Once.”

  “Bel -”

  Bel leaned in, breath close and sweet on Octavia’s lips. “I’ll tell you. I promise. It wasn’t pleasant by any means. She’s vile.” They shivered, rocking into Octavia. “I’ll tell you everything one day. But it’s too close to the surface right now.”

  Octavia bit down on her frustration. Then tell me why you taste different? What happened? Did the Queen do something to you? Did she change you somehow, or did some other fate befall you while in that strange place? But they’d only just reunited and they were on footing of loose gravel and blood. “I missed you,” she said, knowing this was still Bel, even if she didn’t have the whole story. Even if some part of her couldn’t give herself fully to them until this all unraveled.

  Bel was looking at her like Octavia was their world in this moment and her will crumbled. She wanted to ask, and yet found she couldn’t. “Please come here.”

  Bel groaned and surged forward, dragging her on top of them in an instant. Octavia had to brace herself on her hands as Bel wiggled below her, their movements frantic as if they couldn’t get close enough, fast enough. Last night had been slow and easy, exhaustion and the stink of death permeating the air around them.

  Now it was dizzying, bold in a streak of desire that had Octavia moaning Bel’s name. She’d tried to hold off, to hold back but Bel’s touch stoked a fire under her skin. She whimpered with need as their mouths met again.

  Bel’s fingers found her hip, traced the geometric design that curved around the bone. “Do you -“

  Her need warred with her rational mind. Octavia wanted so badly. She wanted Bel on her lips, dripping from her fingers, heated flesh and the taste of honey overwhelming every sense. “Yes. Please.”

  Like she was some precious, fragile thing, Bel scooped her up and flipped them, letting Octavia land with a soft noise of surprise before they descended. “Octavia, my love,” they said, their words heavy to the point of leaden with heat and desire. Bel’s lips were on hers, and then they were gone too fast, too soon; sliding lower over Octavia’s jaw. She gripped their arms, a reminder of her strength and how quickly she could move them to where she wished.

  She wouldn’t but the threat of could was clear. It made Bel chuckle against her neck. “Tell me.”

  “Anything,” Octavia breathed as she melted under their touch. The sides of Bel’s braids skimmed over her sensitive skin and she shuddered, overcome. It was so good, so right -

  And then a scream.

  A scream that brough
t her upright, eyes flashing. Startled, Bel drew back. “What happened?”

  “Someone in the village. A scream.”

  Heedless of their appearance she raced downstairs to pull on boots and a coat while Bel grabbed their weapons. “Roderick!” they yelled at his door. “Come, quickly!”

  Octavia was never so grateful for the speed and constant preparedness of Rangers.

  They set off on horseback into town, following Octavia’s lead and keen hearing. “No more screams,” Octavia said over the bitter cold wind. “Somewhere near the farms on the east side.”

  They went as quickly as they dared on muddy roads. No sun could be seen behind the thick mass of grey clouds in the sky, giving the entire beautiful countryside a leaden, chilled appearance. Heavy as a lodestone.