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They slept on the living room floor, wrapped up in each other by the dying firelight. The child’s head rested on his father’s shoulder while Poet breathed evenly into his son’s hair. Both wore identical scrunched expressions, so that I practically tasted the charm of it.
I’d been recovering in Nicu’s room, the one he shared with his father, which meant I was imposing on Poet’s bed. I would have woken them and insisted they return to their rightful place, that I would be fine on the floor, but they looked so peaceful. I did not have the heart to disturb them, and something told me that Poet would have refused anyway.
After stumbling back to his bed, I melted into the mattress. I might have been too delirious on my first night to notice, but now the whiffs of amber and vetiver rose from the pillow.
I flopped over, but whether to avoid the scents or dissolve into them, I couldn’t say. As I turned, the coverlet banded around my waist like a pair of arms, solid and strong.
And as the world blurred, a dream accompanied the fall. I felt his warmth filling this bed, his body flexing with every movement, his breath panting against mine, and our limbs entangled. I saw my thighs spreading, his waist snapping into the vent between them, our skin beading with perspiration, my back arching, and my mouth hanging open on a silent cry, and his name dangling off the edge of my quavering lips.
The montage unraveled, replete with visions of us naked. Him and me in this tight, dark room, away from anyone who could hear me clutch his rippling back and shatter beneath him, my voice going hoarse from the accelerated pace of his hips.
Then came images of his eyes, with black lining the rims and an inked diamond cutting through a single orb. The forbidden jester hovering over me, breaking through me, taking me. His hips whipping into mine, his erect length—he would say his cock—pitching into my wet folds, flaring them wide, opening them. His green irises flashing with satisfaction, his pupils on fire, and my reflection coming undone within them.
Him, pinning me to the mattress. Me, riding every thrust of that cock.
Us alone, charging at each other, wanting each other, tearing each other to shreds.
I arched from the fantasy and gasped into consciousness. My eyes whipped open and stumbled across the ceiling while heavy puffs rushed from my lips. My calves were tangled around the blanket, my breasts ached from an inexplicable loss, and the nexus of my thighs pooled with heat. The intimate walls of my core were so wet, they’d saturated my undergarments.
I lay there, an exhausted, overwhelmed, shameful mess. The fabric of my dress chafed my nipples, which had become overly sensitive, and the stifling garment clung to me far too tightly.
Fragments of my dream returned, decadent visions that included moist skin, teeth sinking into someone’s lower lip, and skilled fingers tracing my knees—then splitting them apart.
I launched upright, my hand shooting to my chest, desperate to calm my pulse. My stomach coiled with something akin to longing. But unconscious or not, how dare I fabricate such visions of my nemesis while being a guest in this family’s hideout—andwhile sleeping so near to Poet and his son.
I shook my head, scattering the illicit imagery like marbles. It was only an illusion, nothing more.
Sunlight oozed into the room and glazed my toes. The clouds had broken into a new day.
I swung my legs off the mattress and stood, then plucked the ends of my dress and grimaced at the soiled material. Dirt smudged the fabric, and several tears marred the skirt. I’d sweated and slept in it for two nights.
Two nights, thus far. Eliot would be pacing. Mother would be panicking, wondering if she’d lost another loved one to Spring’s forest.
My eyes screwed shut. We’d leave here soon enough, now that my leg was on the mend.
Resigned, I surveyed the room. Someone had left me a gift folded atop Nicu’s bed. The flax-colored dress had front clasps and elbow-length sleeves. A pair of knit socks rested beside the outfit, and both items smelled of lavender.
A cloth, a bar of soap, and a bowl and ewer of water waited on the dresser. Sighing with gratitude, I peeled off my gown, then bathed and threw myself into the fresh garments before lacing my boots.
I should rearrange my braided bun into a new updo. It was only appropriate, in the company of strangers. At least, it would be in Autumn.
Regardless, this was Spring. Plus, after having my locks constrained for this long, the thought of entwining them into another restrictive style threatened to give me a headache.
While unwinding and shaking out my hair, I thought of the Seven. I imagined myself greeting them like this, in all my threadbare, leenix-scarred glory, with my tresses hanging freely down my back.
My lips tilted in amusement. I tiptoed out of the room and got my first conspicuous glimpse of the cottage.
The place was quaint, filled with warm, pigmented colors. Beneath a patterned rug, plush chairs fronted the crackling fireplace. A hooked cauldron dangled inside, and a vase of dried flowers stood on the mantle.
A round table and chairs nestled inside the corner kitchen. A built-in cupboard held a mortar and pestle, along with jars of ground herbs and shavings of bark. Iron pots and bundles of more dried blossoms hung in front of the window, and shelves displayed costly treats like honey and sugar, potentially supplied by Poet’s wages.
Four cords of ribbons looped from the ceiling, each meant to guide Nicu to a different area of the cottage. I trailed them to see where they led.
Orange for Nicu’s room. Yellow for Jinny’s room. Green for the living room. Blue for the bathroom at the back of the house.
Afterward, I stepped outside. Trees speared into the sky, the trunks topped in canopies more verdant than in any other Season. Poppies and daises puckered from the grass, each species of wildflower bunched in tufts rather than scattered everywhere.
The circular cottage was secluded, tucked into a small clearing where a bubbling stream cut through the grass. The flux emitted a gurgling sound while caws resounded from the treetops. And although the ground was still wet from the storm, sunlight unfurled across my face.
