“You do not owe me. If you do this, child, it will be because of willingness and love, and nothing more.”
Always softens the falls. Always take the blows and the arrows. So why this now? But Terrance could not verbalize any of that. To verbalize it might make it real, might make Notte say whatever reason he was handing off something he’d normally do himself as if he wasn’t going to be available to do it.
Nope, Terrance thought, pushing it all away the same as he had when nearly killing cattle he could not steal almost got him executed, the same as he had when Notte had crossed the ditch-and-fence boundary of the Pale to save his life. To change his life. To give him a new life entirely.
Always softens the blow ...
“I’ve got this,” Terrance gasped.
Notte bit into his own wrist, then pressed that to Terrance’s lips.
He drank. The blood electrified, energized, filled, and he swallowed, eyes closed, twitches silenced and fear-whispers knocked unconscious. There was no blood like Notte’s blood. Anywhere.
“Better?” said Notte after the shakes had passed, after who knew how long.
“Better.” Terrance could sit up now, maybe even stand. He could also carry the thing, though he thought perhaps he might wrap it in something more substantial than a handkerchief. “So I just take this to her and then?”
“Remain.”
Fear tried to spike like a broken EKG. Nope. “How long?” Terrance whined. “I hate that place. Fey taste like flat fizzy.”
“Until someone comes for you. Possibly Roderick,” said Notte with that tiny, subtle smile.
“I think I’d rather die, thanks,” said Terrance mildly, and managed his own grin back. Notte’s blood pulsed through his veins like a whole new life, and everything was funny. Even Roderick, who didn’t know how to be funny at all.
Notte’s smile faded. “Be cautious and strong. Things move quickly, now.”
“Yes, Da’. I got it, Da’.” Terrance stood, danced a little jig to prove himself fine, and took a moment to empty a thick leather sack of its gold to put the thing into. “That’ll hold it.”
“For now. Now that it knows it must be used, it will wake, and grow stronger.”
Terrance stared at him. Then he laughed. “Well, I won’t be holding it by then, so who gives a duck?”
Notte smiled in return, but only briefly.
Terrance left quickly. It felt good to be needed. It felt better to have Notte’s blood in him, reviving, renewing, inflaming with white-hot fire that made colors brighter and air sweeter and skin more sensitive. He waved, a casual farewell, and did not look back because everything would be fine because it had to be. The thing in the bag pulsed, too, but for now, he could ignore it.
Notte’s blood kept him strong. Some things were better received than taken, after all.
● Extras ●
Need More? Read On!
There is more to come.
For other stories with runaway Fey princes, alien Earths and parallel worlds, ancient warriors, and magical mayhem, visit RuthanneReid.com, where you can sign up for free books and sneak-peeks in your inbox, peruse the wiki for trivia, and bug the author via email.
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Story-herder, plot-bunny curator, and weird humor connoisseur, Ruthanne is a woman of mystery because most of her hobbies are done in the dark. She’s ventured out to teach classes on world-building and writer’s-voice, and she’s taken some nifty pictures, which she posts on Instagram when no one is looking. She also has a popular Twitter feed which is the epitome of random.
Ruthanne is simply herself, and herself is a professional dealer of cat pictures. Currently, she lives in Long Island City, happily married to the IT programmer of her dreams.
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