I take several deep breaths, until the pain begins to lessen. I swallow and then try again. “Y-you saved me,” I finally manage.
Bastian ducks his head. “Yeah, well I said I’d get you home and I can’t really do that if you go and die, can I?” The edge in his voice causes goosebumps to rise along my exposed skin. Or maybe that’s the cool breeze over my damp body? He lifts his head again to meet my gaze and I can see that any sign of anguish is now replaced by an icy cool fury. “You were supposed to wait for me to return.”
“I-I know. I j-just couldn’t s-sit around and w-wait any l-longer,” I stutter out around the chill.
“Are you being serious right now? Youcouldn’t wait any longer?” With every word he speaks, I can feel the leash on his anger slipping, his voice rising in volume. “So, what? You decided to head out into the realm you knownothingabout and hope for the best?”
“Well, when you put it like that it doesn’t sound so great,” I grumble. “But in my defense, you took longer to return,” I mutter under my breath, well aware he’ll still hear it.
Bastian lets out an exasperated breath and rises to his feet. “Doesn’t sound so great,” he repeats with a humorless chuckle.
“I consulted a map…” I mumble, which clearly was the wrong thing to say.
“Amap?!” He looks at me, eyes wild. “And how much good did that do you? Am I supposed to assume you can actually read the language of the Fae then?” I open my mouth to reply but he continues. “No! Clearly not, because you were heading the exact opposite way of Grimhallow. Not even close to the right way,” he scoffs and shakes his head, turning and pacing away from where I’m lying.
I take the opportunity to finally take in my surroundings. From the way the sky is darkening, I can tell the sun has nearly set. We’re still in the marsh, not far from the bog where the creature attempted to drown me. My eyes dart around the space, not seeing the thing. Is it gone? Surely Bastian wouldn’t have stuck around if the creature was still a threat. Right?
I go to push myself up into a sitting position but yelp at the pain in the hand that was smashed when I put my weight on it. I use my one good hand to lift myself to a sitting position and track where he’s frozen in his pacing at my pained sound, back to me.
For the first time since waking up, I get a good look at his appearance. He’s still wearing the black tunic and trousers from this morning, but it’s disheveled and soaking wet. One of the sleeves is nearly torn from the torso of the tunic, hanging on by literal threads. His wet hair is mussed as if he’s been pulling at it. The memory of a phantom grip around my waist as I passed out flashes through my mind. It was his arms. His grip. He jumped in after me. Hesavedme. He also probably fought off that creature.
He runs both hands through his hair pushing it back out of his face. Then he turns and looks at me with a frantic gaze. “You could havedied, Liv. Fuck, you almost did! If I had been evena few minutes later…” he blows out a breath, shaking his head. “Does that meananythingto you?”
“Of course it does!” I shout back. I let out a defeated sigh. He’s right. Ididalmost die. And it would’ve been my fault and my fault alone if that creature had succeeded. “Obviously it means something to me.” I pause, gathering my hands in my lap, itching to twist the now mangled ring. Staring at my hands, I whisper, “I don’t want to die.” I can see my injured hand begin to tremble where I have it carefully cradled in my lap as the adrenaline leaks out. “W-what was that… thing?”
Bastian’s face softens a fraction as he notices my shaky hands. He strides back over and drops down beside me. He pulls me into his arms and onto his lap, rubbing soothing circles on my upper back. Besides that moment in bed this morning, this is the closest we’ve ever been, and I so badly want to hate the way it feels. In fact, I hate the way that Idon’thate the way it feels. The way the heat of him blankets my body in an overwhelming sense of comfort. The way his scent envelopes my senses and my body instinctively relaxes further into his grip.
“Thatthingis called a boggart. It’s basically a faerie bogeyman. Their kind live out here in the marshlands. It typically goes after humans and our younglings, but it’s been known to go after just about anything if it’s desperate enough, so our kind knows to avoid the marshes whenever possible.” His words are soft, but the last part carries with it the double meaning.
Message received loud and clear.
“Oh.” It’s all I have as a response after hearing his explanation. Shame and guilt rolls through me.
The longer Bastian holds me, the more I relax into his hold. The more I feel…safe. The trembling has started to subside with every swipe of his hand. I take a few shaky breaths, lettingthe calming silence of the forest around the marsh to sooth my frayed emotions.
He lifts his hand and draws it gently down my cheek, tingles trailing in its wake. Until he hits a particularly painful spot, and I can’t hold back the wince. He instantly stills and pulls his hand away. I look into his crystal blue eyes and see the storms gathering behind them. They look tortured. I watch him closely as his eyes survey the rest of my body. I can tell when they reach my injured hand based on how they widen. I look at my hand fully for the first time and see the bruises circling my wrist and how my hand looks absolutely mangled, swollen and my fingers bent at odd angles. He reaches a tentative hand to gently prod the bruises.
I grit my teeth and do what I can to stifle the whimper that forces its way up my throat at the contact. “It’s a little tender,” I squeak out.
He gives a slow nod. “I don’t think the wrist is broken, just badly bruised.” His exploratory hand continues its movements down towards my fingers and my busted ring. Several gemstones are either shattered or completely missing and the band has several cracks, leaving it barely hanging on to its place on my finger. I breathe out a hiss when he goes to shift my fingers to get a better look at the ring. “Your fingers on the other hand are definitely broken,” he whispers.
I huff out a laugh. “You don’t say.”
His eyes pop up to my face and a soft, haunted smile touches his lips for a moment. “At least your attitude is still intact.” He returns his attention to my injured hand. “What happened here?”
“That creature—the boggart—really didn’t like my ring for whatever reason? And when it reached to remove it, I clenched my hand into a fist so it couldn’t pull the ring off. Little did I know it would be so resourceful and find a way to destroy itwhile it was still on my finger.” I watch as Bastian’s brows draw down in confusion. I tilt my head at him in question. “What is it?”
“I’m trying to think about why it would want to remove your ring. If it was a protection charm, it shouldn’t have been so easily destroyed either, so I’m beginning to think it might not be.” He schools his face back into his usual collected calm and looks around the forest. I can see the burnt orange rays of a sunset creeping through the leaves. “Come, let’s get back to the cottage so I can treat your wounds.”
He rises to his feet and scoops me up into his arms and starts to walk us towards the dappled charcoal gray stallion that I only just noticed has been grazing a short distance away.
“I have one question,” I ask, earning me a raised eyebrow, my only indication to continue. “How did you find me?”
His steps falter so briefly that I wouldn’t have noticed it had he not been holding me. He clears his throat roughly. “I must have gotten back not too long after you left. I picked up your scent and followed it here.” His words make sense, but I can’t explain it. There’s something about them that strikes a chord wrong in my chest. It doesn't quite fit.
“Well, tha—” A finger crushes to my lips, halting my words. Bastian raises an eyebrow at me bringing me back to myself. My eyes widen as I realize I almost thanked him.
“One favor from you is more than enough,” he explains as if he can read the question swirling through my head about why he would’ve stopped me. “Although, I’m starting to regret my decision to not call it in earlier,” while his words could be intended seriously, I can detect the hint of mirth lacing through them.
