by Kaylee Rymer
Ivora pressed her lips against his, and the festival and the dance-floor vanished.
23. Weegel
Weegel’s heart did a double flip.
Ivy pressed her lips eagerly against his, and he lost his breath. They were soft, pillow-like, enticing every sense in his body, and he reached up and clawed his fingers through her hair.
He parted her mouth, and she groaned, wrapping her hands tightly around his neck. His hood fell down, revealing his smashed horn, but he didn’t care. She tasted too good.
Their kiss became quick, frantic, and soon time seemed to stop. The dancers and the festival disappeared, and Weegel and Ivy were the only two left.
They pulled free at last, breathing into one another’s mouths. Weegel gasped for air, his mind spinning as he leaned his forehead against hers.
Maybe this is what dying and going to heaven would feel like?
Ivy laughed, breaking him out of his reverie. “What’s so funny?”
“You... have paint on your lips.”
He creased his brows. “Huh?”
She laughed louder and wiped his mouth. “There. All gone.”
Weegel closed his eyes and sighed. “Warn me next time.”
“The moment was right, and you were taking too long.”
He grinned. “I think that dress is making you a little promiscuous, princess.”
“Really?” She leaned closer and smouldered him with her wicked greens.
Weegel quivered, yearning to thrust his hips against her, but he held back. He looked around. The dance-floor had emptied, giving them a perfect spotlight.
Trolls guffawed and pointed their way, mimicking kissing sounds. Two elfin women watched them with mild interest.
Weegel’s face burned, and he pulled his hood back up. He had never kissed anyone in public before. Even all the times he’d spent with Laurel had been a private, secretive affair, as if he were almost ashamed.
The dryad in question was nowhere in sight, except for her two friends — the white-haired bitch and the miserable cow.
The white-haired dryad shook her head at him slowly, a look of pure disappointment on her equally pale face. The other one, however, looked as miserable as usual.
What did Weegel care? He’d never liked Laurel or her stupid friends, anyway.
He took a hold of Ivy’s hand. “Come on. Let’s go back to the shop.”
They moved through the village, dodging drunks of various sizes. Weegel almost stepped on a faery as it lay spread-eagled on the floor, hiccoughing tiny bubbles. A slumbering giant took up the entire street as they climbed over his hairy ankles.
Finally, they reached the shop.
Weegel went to open the door, but someone ‘psst’ him from inside an alleyway.
He turned, and an icy chill seeped through his veins. A pair of luminous eyes stared back from inside the alleyway, and he shielded Ivy from view.
“What’s the matter?” she asked.
He kept his gaze on the creature, daring it to step closer. The floating eyeballs rolled impatiently and disappeared inside the alley.
“Go inside,” he told Ivy. “There’s something I need to do.”
“And you won’t tell me what it is?” she asked, folding her arms.
Weegel sighed. “No.”
She narrowed her eyes and entered the shop. The door slammed in her wake.
Weegel flinched. She was mad at him. Once again he was keeping things from her, but it was for her own good.
He marched into the alleyway, pausing before the dark silhouette of a knight. “What are you doing here?”
Sir Varius turned, looking as handsome as ever. “You look tense, little worcog.”
Weegel gritted his teeth. “I asked you a question. What are you doing here?”
“Now, now, there’s no need to be so hostile.”
“Hostile? You tried to choke me to death!”
The knight breathed a sigh. “That I did.”
Anger pricked at Weegel’s nerves, and he stepped closer. “Stay away from her.”
Sir Varius held up a hand. “That’s not why I’m here.”
“So why are you here?”
“To make a truce...”
A lone wind swept up the alleyway, flapping Sir Varius’ cape.
Weegel stepped back. “A truce?” He let the words sink in. “You really think I’d make a truce with you after what you did to Ivy?”
The corners of Sir Varius’ mouth twitched. “You mean the girl who just slammed a door in your face?”
Weegel scowled, wishing he could inflict all kinds of pain on the knight.
The knight smirked. “I bet you didn’t know our houses were aligned?”
“Aligned?”
“Five hundred years ago, a treaty was forged between our houses. When one family goes to war, the other must follow. Our great, great, grandfathers were comrades in arms. Our families even married into each other to keep the noble bloodline pure.”
Weegel nodded his head in understanding. “So you’re thanking me for stopping you from draining the blood of your very own? You’re welcome.”
“Not exactly. Even if she had any drop of Roseblood in her veins, I’d have sniffed it out instantly. It’s been three hundred years. The Rosebloods have all died out, except for one.” Sir Varius stepped forward, letting the light from the street fall on his face. “As the last unliving descendant of House Roseblood, it is my duty to follow the House Godwyn into battle.”
Weegel stared, speechless. The knight remained still, a stone relic frozen in time.
“You’re serious?” he said.
“Very. I’ve already dishonoured the treaty by turning a blind eye the first time, but I will uphold my honour the second.”
He was talking about Godwyn’s fall from the throne.
“Why didn’t you help sixteen years ago?”
A dark shadow formed across the vampire’s face. “I may be a classic monster, but that man I felt was not worthy of my fealty.”
Weegel gazed upon the knight in wonder. Even as a vampire, he held great standards of how men should treat each other. Ironic, but it made sense. Godwyn had been a tyrant. He probably caused greater suffering than Varius did in his three hundred years.
It seemed the man he used to be was still inside there somewhere. After all, he couldn’t have become a monster by choice.
“How did you turn?” Weegel asked.
The knight shrugged. “Same old story. I felt for a beautiful woman who wasn’t what she seemed.”
Weegel gazed at the ground. It looked as if he may have judged the knight too harshly. Sir Varius had no control over what he was any more than Weegel did.
“Thank you,” Weegel said. “I’m sure your ancestors would be proud.”
The knight bowed. “It will be my honour serving with you, worcog.”
“Serve?”
Sir Varius’ lips pulled up. “For the battle that’s soon to come.”
Fear pumped through Weegel’s veins. “Battle? But—?”
“In time, worcog. In time...”
The knight vanished into the shadows.
Silence rushed through Weegel’s ears, and he ran around to Bannog’s shop, welcoming the warm smell of tea and biscuits. Ivy was nowhere to be seen when he entered the back room.
The ogre cousins played with a stack of cards, and Bannog’s wig had been placed on his head once again.
All evidence of their fight had gone. The boxes were neatly arranged again, but Bannog did have fewer cups.
Weegel’s mouth watered when he laid eyes on the steaming teapot, and he clicked his parched tongue.
Bannog lifted the pot. “Tea?”
Weegel was about to accept when he caught sight of Stannog glaring at him. The brute sipped at a small flask, watching Weegel carefully from the corner of his eye.
He declined the tea, feeling embarrassed. It was much better that way. Now the barkeep wouldn’t be able to tell everyone at the tavern that Weegel liked to drink
tea.
Ivy entered the room wearing her thick cloak.
Weegel turned to Bannog. “Well, it’s time we headed back. We can discuss the details of my disguise another time. So, thank you for... for the drinks,” he emphasised, sensing the dark glower from Stannog. “And the costume. Nobody suspected who she was. How much?”
“Excuse me?” Bannog said, looking scandalised.
“For the nymph dress.”
The ogre waved his hand. “No charge. The dress is all yours.” He winked at Ivy, and she grinned.
Weegel raised his brows, impressed. “Why... thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Now go on, off you pop.” Bannog returned to his cards.
Taking that as their cue to leave, Weegel moved to the door.
“Hold on.”
He turned back.
Bannog rose from his seat and plodded over to the stack of boxes. He took a box from the top and passed it to Weegel.
Weegel looked at the box, dumbfounded. “What’s this?”
“Your disguise.”
He gawped at the ogre. “Already? But... we haven’t discussed prices—”
“Don’t worry, it’s on the house.”
Weegel blinked. “I... can have it for free?”
“Yes. Heaven knows you both need it.”
“Both?”
“Read the box.”
Weegel read the black words written on top. “A farmhand and his wife?”
“The wife disguise is for Ivora, of course. Unless you want to be the farmhand’s wife, instead?”
“No, I’ll take it. Thank you.”
Bannog smiled. “The idiot who ordered the disguise never turned up. It’s been on hold for weeks. It’s safe to say he’s never getting his deposit back. Though it’s not much, you can thank him for paying on your behalf.”
Weegel shook his head in disbelief. It looked as if he got to keep his gold.
Stannog snorted into his flask. “Looks like ya finally got yerself a little human wife now, Goat. Just like ya always wanted.”
Weegel advanced towards him, but Bannog pushed him back. “That’s enough. It’s best you both leave now, Weegel. Take Ivora with you and keep her safe. Remember, you’re all she has in this cruel world now.”
Weegel froze. The ogre’s words lingered through the air.
“What’s he talking about?” Ivy asked.
Bannog seemed to cotton on and stumbled for words.
“It’s... nothing,” Weegel said, feeling his cheeks burn. “We... we should go.”
Ivy put her hands on her hips. “Why’s your lip sweating?”
Alarmed, Weegel felt his lips. A band of sweat covered his upper lip like a moustache, and he wiped it away. “It’s just the humidity.”
She rolled her eyes and moved out the door.
Bannog rounded on him the moment she left. “You haven’t told her?”
Weegel gripped his hair. “No, I haven’t. And thank you, by the way. I had everything under control until you blurted it out.”
“Well, you must. She has a right to know.”
“I will, just... not yet. She was having too much fun tonight. I couldn’t take that away from her.”
Her laughing face swam up before him, and he smiled. She’d looked so radiant.
Bannog folded his arms. “I see... You’re in love with her, aren’t you?”
Weegel’s heart exploded. “No! Of course not.”
The ogre sank back in his seat. “No point in denying it,” he said, pouring himself another drink. “It’s written all over you.”
A headache started up in Weegel’s skull, and he rubbed his temples.
“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” Bannog continued. “I, for one, find it sweet.”
Stannog slammed a fist. “Well, I think it’s a bloody outrage!”
“That’s because you have no heart, cousin,” Bannog said, placing the teapot back on the tray.
Stannog muttered under his breath about how human and fae don’t mix and took another swig of his flask.
Bannog looked at Weegel again. “Well, aren’t you leaving?”
“I was just on my way out.” Weegel headed out the door.
“Oh, and Weegel...”
He whirled around. “What?”
A devious smile crept across Bannog’s face. “Your lip’s sweating...”
Stannog guffawed, throwing his head back as he crashed to the floor. The chair crushed beneath his enormous weight. “Bannog! You savage!”
“I’m sorry, I couldn’t help myself...” Bannog cried, wiping his eyes.
Weegel growled and pushed his way through the door, rubbing the sweat from his lip. The ogres still laughed as he reached the front door and yanked it open.
He blinked up at the sky. Snow fell in flurries, landing on his cheeks and melting into his skin. “I don’t believe it.”
Ivy looked his way. “Believe what?” Snow flecked her hair like dandruff as she shivered beneath her cloak.
Weegel pointed to the clouds. “It’s snowing.”
She shrugged. “So?”
Weegel considered whether he should tell her. How does he explain that snow in the fae world was as rare as a talking teapot?
First, the odd talk with sir Varius, and now snow? Something was definitely on the horizon.
“Well, let’s go,” he chirped, trying to change the mood. They marched through the village. White powder coated the ground while a few party goers still lingered. The band was putting away their instruments. The festival was officially over. No one seemed to want to celebrate now that the snows were coming in.
They entered the alleyway and waited for the door to the human world. A thick blast of snowy air took Weegel’s breath away once they stepped out into the woods.
They’d walked right into the heart of a blizzard. It swirled through the forest, white and dream-like, and Weegel shivered.
He never did feel the cold much, but he couldn’t deny the chill now. In all his five years in the north, he had never quite experienced a blizzard like this.
Ivy latched on to him, chattering her teeth. Weegel struggled to see ten feet. Only a few distinct shapes stood out against the haze.
There was no way they were getting back to the mountain tonight.
“What... what do we do?” Ivy asked, shaking.
Her lips were turning blue, and Weegel’s stomach dipped. All she had on beneath her cloak was that flimsy nymph dress.
Back to Bannog’s they go.
Weegel turned back to the doorway, but it had already closed. He tried to call for the tree’s attention, but his voice was lost amongst the wind.
There was nothing more they could do. They were stuck in the blizzard.
He pulled her towards him and wrapped her under his cloak. The shadow of a spruce appeared through a sheet of snow, and he moved forward.
The ground beneath the tree was free of snow, protected by the pine’s overhanging branches, and he placed her down.
Weegel took off his fur, draped it around her shoulders, and sat down beside her. Ivy nestled into him, trying to get warm as the wind howled around them.
She soon drifted off, wrapped up under two sets of furs.
Weegel could barely move from the cold. His teeth chattered, but he wouldn’t take his fur off Ivy.
Never before had he given up his warmth and comfort for another. But then he’d never jumped in front of a rolling rock for anyone either, or saved them from the clutches of an evil vampire.
It seemed he was prepared to die for this girl, and Weegel wasn’t sure how to feel about it.
He gazed down at her sweet face, and the news he’d heard from Bannog flowed through his mind.
How was he going to tell her?
“You don’t. Simple. You know it would make no difference to you, anyway...”
Weegel trembled. It was Duke’s mother again, whispering inside his head.
“L-leave me alone...” he said.
“I’ll never leave you alone, demon-child. Not after what you did to my precious Duke...”
He squeezed his eyes shut, and an image of Duke’s terrified face flew up before him. There was the taste of blood in his mouth again, dripping down his chin, and he shivered.
A shadow materialised beyond a spiralling veil of snow, and a stout figure of a woman appeared.
Rosemary.
“Don’t ever come back to Tillyfold,” she hissed. “I’ll butcher you like a pig if you so much as breathe near my children again.”
Weegel tried to block her out, but he couldn’t move. Somehow, his limbs were frozen in place.
Rosemary crept closer, her lips curled back. “That mother of yours should have killed you the day she found you. At least then you would never have been able to cause harm to a normal child like my Duke.”
“P-please... st-stop...” he begged.
She kneeled before him, and her blemished red skin filled his vision. “Do us all a favour and just die, worcog.”
He shook his head. “N-no...”
“No one loves you. What’s the point? Just give up.”
Weegel snarled and tackled the woman to the ground. “No!”
She had gone. Now he lay frozen in a pile of fresh snow. The wind continued to howl, blowing a fresh sheet his way, and soon he was buried.
His heart pumped hot through his veins, fighting to keep the warmth in his body, but it would soon give up. The cold was already inside him.
Rosemary had got what she wanted; he was going to freeze to death.
He rolled onto his back and gazed up at the sky. It continued to snow, a swirling white mass above, and his eyes folded shut.
The clouds parted next, revealing a starry sky, and a light fluttered down from the heavens. It landed on his nose, fanning the snow off his face with gentle wings, and warmth spread through his body again.
He stared into the beady eyes of a moth. It waved an antenna, and he smiled in recognition.
He hadn’t seen the moth since Duke crushed it with his boot, but back then it had been a caterpillar. Now he had beautiful hand-sized wings.
“Hello, Henry...”
24. Ivora
Ivora stirred, rubbing her eyes against a bright light.
She peered through her fingers and gasped. A white forest glittered all around her. Not a single speck of dirt to be found. The sun shone in an azure sky, last night’s blizzard all but forgotten.