“Actually,” he says, his chest puffing, “I gave you water every day, and Mina and the nýmphí were bathing you.” He says the last part of the sentence with a disappointed expression.
If he’d bathed me, I’d probably melt with embarrassment. I should thank Mina as well.
I feel like that baby in my dream, helpless and cocooned. The strong, fierce Noël seems like a legend whispered among the vólkins as I sit wrapped in furs, barely able to move. Mina and the nýmphí bathed me earlier, leaving me feeling clean but stillweak. Now, I’m bundled up so snugly that the only parts of me that can move are my eyes and my mouth, which I open wide every time Theron offers me another strawberry.
I’m starving. After not eating for an entire week, I feel like I could hunt a bear, though the thought of harming the poor creature makes me wince. Theron, however, is insistent that I eat in small amounts to avoid getting sick. His practicality is both endearing and infuriating, especially since I know he genuinely believes I could take down a bear on my own. Honestly, I’m flattered.
“This one is juicy,” he says as he holds another strawberry to my lips with his claws. I open wide and let the sweetness burst in my mouth. His gaze doesn’t move, and the intensity in his eyes as he watches me eat each berry... He’s so eager to feed me.
If I weren’t so drained, I might laugh at how terrified I was of him just over a week ago. Now, this massive vólkin is carefully feeding me strawberries like I’m the most precious thing in the world. I shake my head, trying to clear the thought.
“No more? Already full?” he asks, tilting his giant head. Seriously, his head is at least four times the size of mine.
“More,” I say eagerly as I open my mouth again. Maybe I should gift him something, but what?
His massive muscles shift before my eyes and it’s distracting. Every time he reaches for a strawberry, his arms flex, the cords of muscle standing out beneath his fur. Is he doing this on purpose? The broad span of his shoulders, his thick neck, the way his mane frames his face. All of it demands attention. His crystals glow beautifully.
Ándor’s crystal is almost dull.
“You’re probably the biggest male I’ve ever seen,” I mutter, my gaze traveling from his well-defined abs upward. He straightens at my words, and I catch the slightest flicker of surprise in his eyes.
“You flatter me, my mate.” His deep voice is filled with pride. “Worry not. I will always protect you and will always be the strongest.” He leans in. “I am a leader for a reason.”
His words make my face flush with warmth, and I find myself suddenly unable to meet his intense gaze.
“Do you know why I fainted?” I ask, trying to shift the focus.
He nods, his expression darkening even as he places the last strawberry on my tongue. “Your spirit was overwhelmed,” he explains, his voice full of... regret. “You’ve endured more than your spirit could handle, and when you stepped into the circle, it tried to break free. Your body couldn’t keep up.” There’s a raw pain in his eyes, as though he blames himself for what happened.
“It’s not your fault.” From the moment we met, Theron has been by my side—protecting me, feeding me, fighting for me. I wish I could touch him, reassure him that he’s done everything right, but the weight of the furs makes it impossible to lift my hand to comfort him. “Why did my spirit try to break free?”
Theron sets the empty bowl aside, pulling me against him as he speaks. “A circle is a powerful shape,” he begins. “It represents the sun and the moon. The sun, like a male’s cycle, spans day and night. The moon, like a female’s cycle, moves through phases—new, full, and back again.”
I nod. He knows so much. I admire that.
“Is that why women bleed every month?” I ask.
He nods, his claws brushing over the fur on my head. “Yes. The moon symbolizes femininity. That’s why rituals involving female energy are always performed under a full moon. It’s the height of your spirituality.”
I hum in understanding, though his explanation only makes me realize how much humans don’t know. There’s so much hidden, so much I’ve never been taught.
In Tárnov, knowledge is a privilege strictly reserved for men. Women are forbidden from seeking education or evendisplaying intelligence openly. My mother defied this norm, teaching me in secret, away from prying eyes. No one ever entered our home, she made sure of that. If anyone had, they would have seen the shelves lined with books, filled with knowledge that could have condemned us both.
Whenever I spoke to men, I had to play the part of a fool. Feigning ignorance when history came up, pretending I couldn’t grasp even the simplest of mathematical concepts or scientific ideas. It was exhausting, suppressing my true self to fit into the fragile world they had constructed for themselves.
It’s absurd, really, this idea that a man’s worth is tied to a woman’s ignorance. As though they needed us to be stupid to validate their intelligence, to feel superior. How fragile their pride must be.
“Do you want to stretch your legs?” Theron asks, breaking through my thoughts.
He helps me out of the cocoon of furs before we make our way outside. Together, we carefully step around the overgrown roses that have claimed parts of our home. I hold onto Theron’s arm because my legs are so weak that it’s hard to walk, even slowly.
The garden of blue roses stretches wide, beautiful and alive. I sit down on the grass with the flowers surrounding me, their beauty fills me with warmth. They remind me of my mother—and of Theron too.
He joins me, and the nýmphí, who were chatting among themselves in the roses, notice us and quickly rush over, giggling as they begin weaving tiny flowers into my hair.
“Why do my tears make flowers grow?” I ask a nýmphá as I run my fingers over the soft petals of a blue rose.
“When the Mother of All wept on red roses, her sorrow turned them blue, Your Majesty,” she explains, her voice like a breeze.
