Page 32 of A Fae’s Guide to Tactical Botany

And so she kept her gaze lowered, pretending not to see the way Ethan’s jeans were bulging or to hear how his breath accelerated with her every move.

Especially when she leaned forward just right.

Which she did as often as she could manage.

It was petty, stoking fires she had no intention of quenching, but she refused to feel guilty. She had earned a little petty vengeance. It was like aphids on her skin, being kind and gentle to her enemy.

Dealing a bit of frustration back helped.

“Goddammit,” he said suddenly, his voice rough and slurred.

Mara frowned down at her hands, which had been undoing yet another fastener. So many ties to untie. “What did I do?”

“Oh, no no no. Sorry. Not you.” He laughed faintly. “A couple more brain cells came back online and I remembered the last time I had a concussion. It was awful.”

“Pain generally is,” Mara replied. “Was it much worse than this?”

Ethan waved a hand in the air. “Oh, not near as bad. I didn’t even lose consciousness that time. It was, like, a baby concussion. This one’s full grown.” He chuckled. “Wow. That’s an image. The life cycle of the concussion beast. No, I remembered what happened after. The doctor’s instructions.”

“Alas, no more sieges for you?”

“Oh, yeah. Probably. Avoid heavy activity, rest, sleep—I was wrong, I’m allowed to sleep—all of that. Light activity is good. Play it by ear and listen to my body. All of that.” He heaved a sigh. Now that the armor was gone, his broad chest expanded and contracted in a way that was irritatingly fascinating. “It’s the other thing.”

Was he incapable of just saying things? Mara refused to encourage him. “Ah,” she said in her most bored tone of voice.

Ethan nodded thoughtfully, undismayed by her lack of interest.

He must be used to it, she thought snidely.

“I’ll just give it all to you,” he said.

Mara sat back on her heels. Clearly she had missed something. “You are going to give me…the awful thing?”

“No, no. It’s a good thing. Things. A whole bunch of good things.” He shifted up on his elbows to look at her, wincing. “I brought a whole summer’s worth. And now I’m not supposed to touch a drop.”

“I do not need your water,” Mara said quellingly, pulling the last piece of armor free of Ethan’s leg. She tossed it behind her with the others. Her task was done. She should leave. But instead she shifted to the side so she could see his face. His expression was earnest and unquelled.

“I’m not offering you my water. I mean, yes, you can have as much as you want. Take my water, please. But you said you don’t want it, and I guess you don’t need it, and I’m actually supposed to drink that.” He groaned and fell back again. “It’s the mead.”

Mara glanced at the cans that had once been under his head. “You are not to drink it?” The whatever-lini he’d given her had been delightful, as had the can of blueberry mead he’d left her with his lie of a sketch. The bees had swarmed the can when she was done until the last remnants of the mead had been collected.

It would have been less delightful if she’d realized it was to camouflage his trickery, lull her into trusting his diagram. Perhaps she should not trust this offering now.

He was nodding carefully. “No alcohol for weeks. It does something to the brain, or the blood, or the brain blood… I don’t remember what. But I remember the doctor being a real dick when I asked if moderation would do. Fuck.” He groaned, bringing his hands to his face. “Flat on my back for weeks, no research, no activity, probably scorpions and bobcats, and now no drinking. This fucking sucks.”

A just penance, Mara did not say.

“Stop gloating,” Ethan replied as if he’d heard her.

“I said nothing.”

“I felt it. You are just…radiating waves of ha-ha, serves you right.” He dropped his hands back to his side. “Thank you. Not for the ha-ha. For everything else.”

The sun had nearly finished setting. Mara hesitated, then reached out and turned the lantern on. It cast a sickly glow on Ethan’s face. Or perhaps the glow was ordinary and his face was sickly. Should she fetch him water? Or food? Perhaps he needed to be helped to his bed…

She stood again. “I will go.”

Ethan nodded, staring up at the darkening sky. “Of course. Take the mead. The cans in the cooler should still be…cool.”