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"I'm not, for the record. And if I were, I could certainly assure you that my spouse would have been aware of any dalliances with theRelvas, Pavis, and Lurns of the world."
He's so pleased with himself, it's unbearable. I want to say I don't care, but the words are stuck in my throat.
Stupid fairy rules.
The best I manage is, "Why would you think I care?"
I get a smirk in response. "You're learning. This way."
He gestures to an archway.I glance into the darkness, and back at him. “Have you ever heard of normal, non-creepy doors?”
“They’re complicated to craft, and not worth the effort for such a temporary accommodation.”
Temporary?
My gaze studies the beautiful stone walls, the arches, and I think back to the gorgeous pool. “This isn’t your home?”
The floor might be made of grass, untiled, and I can’t see much in the way of storage or decor, but it’s still a gorgeous, perfectly comfortable house. Back in San Francisco, the square footage alone would have made it worth a fortune.
“No, Darina. This isn’t my home.” Ryther doesn’t quite roll his eyes, but the sentiment is there all the same. “I rose it from the ground for the conclave, and to the ground it will return once we’re done here in a few days.”
He built this for a few days.
“How?”
He sighs, entering the room he pointed to.
“I’m not certain how to explain these things in words you’ll understand, given that you can’t yet locate your own core. But we of the folk are linked to these lands. Ilvaris was made for us, of us.”
His voice seems far away, dimmed down the moment he crosses the threshold. I rush to follow.
Inside, there’s a large sleigh bed, its frame made of the same polished stone as the walls of this temporary accommodation. The mattress seems so deep, and comfortable. All of my fatigue suddenly rises to the surface; it’s a miracle I remain upright, the way my knees buckle under my weight.
I need to be in this bed right now. I doubt I’ll leave it for the next day.
Week.
I walk to the bed, and tentatively sit on it, unsure what to expect.
I sigh in pure delight when my ass sinks into what feels like a cloud; down or fur, covered in thick linen.
Ryther keeps lecturing me, not noticing the fact that my attention is completely gone. “Nature provided everything I needed when I called onto it, and my mind shaped it.”
“You created this bed, too?” I murmur, already feeling myself tilting at the edge of sleepiness.
I have been dead to the world since the bathroom, and this is just so comfy.
He walks close, extending his hand. At first, I think he wants me to take it, but a wave of dark shadows gathers in his palm, and I watch as it fades, revealing, first, a simple white sheet, then I watch as tiny, soft, grayish feathers fall on top, followed by tuffs of black fur. It all floats right over his palm, as both fur and feathers multiply before my baffled eyes.
At long last, the sheet extends over it all, and smoothes itself in a seamless cushion. Ryther hands it to me.
I’ve only tucked it under my shoulder when a cover, just as incredibly soft and warm, smelling of morning dew and freshly cut grass wraps itself around me.
Ryther’s mysterious eyes flash silver, the stars overtaking the void for the shortest moment, before they return to their usual shade.
“You made all this from nothing?”
“I made it all from nature,” he corrects me. “It’s much faster; I was showing you how the elements assemble together.”
