Page 83 of The Knucker King

Avice stood to fetch the dried calendula flowers, planning to weave them into each layer again. “I had a fight with John on the way home. The men were rude to me during my treatment of the fisherman and then tried to get me to stay in the village despite the incoming storm. Besides you three, John was the person I was closest too, but he did not defend me from their cruelty.”

The Well King flashed his fangs. “Who would be cruel to you?!”

“The Moot, Father…” Avice shook her head. “Anyway, John was escorting me home on a horse when I had the realisation that – despite the storm – I did not want to be anywhere near him.” She tucked the flowers into the cloth, and she got him to drop his arms so she could bandage them next. “So, I got off the horse and walked the rest of the way. That is when we found—”

A Pillywiggin! Bramble interrupted, popping his head up. A pup. She had been marked, Lord, like the human pups had been. Is that not odd?

Ashling chimed, and Trewoofe nodded along to the tune.

“I have never heard of it either,” Trewoofe mused. “As far as I know, one Faerie cannot be changed into another one. Whichever Folk is doing this is very confused.” He dropped his arms as Avice sat back to admire her handiwork. “How do I look?”

“Good!” she exclaimed. “Your colour is better, and your wounds are much improved. I will change the bandages again in three or so days should you need to it, once I have had a chance to wash these.” She gestured to the discarded silver-stained linens by the pallet. “How do they feel? Not too tight?”

Trewoofe patted himself. “Perfectly comfortable.”

Avice grinned at him, delighted that he was truly on the mend. Though, she could not help the sadness dogging her at the thought that he would return to his Kingdom once he had recovered.

That does not mean you will not see him.

She smiled as she remembered their picnic on his hill. The memory of honey cakes and tea making her stomach growl.

Bramble popped his head up. Are you hungry Avice?

She nodded. “Starved, let me get something together for us.”

32

Chapter 32

Trewoofe

The wind raged against his ward as Trewoofe sat warm and content with Avice on their pallet. He did not know when he had started thinking of the bed as ‘theirs’, but the moment she had said ‘ours’ he knew he was right in thinking that it belonged to them both. Just like if she came to the Underneath with him, his nest would also be theirs.

She set a bowl of broth on the floor for Bramble to lap at and then gave the tiniest cup Trewoofe had ever seen to Ashling.

“Thank you!” The Wisp cooled his flames and tipped the liquid onto himself.

Avice handed Trewoofe a steaming bowl. She had dropped in some more herbs and dried mushrooms from one of the jars she retrieved from the cellar and topped it off with more healing waters. The mushrooms had plumped up in the liquid and given it a distinctly woody scent that made his stomach growl.

She gave him a spoon. Befuddled, he looked from the bowl to the strange tool, and then to Avice. She sat happily next to him on the pallet with a contended hum, inhaling the scent of her meal with a smile, and used the spoon to deliver it to her mouth. He watched as her throat shifted as she swallowed.

If I can sew, I can do this.

Trewoofe tried, he really did, but he just ended up spilling the broth from the spoon back into the bowl. The utensil was too big to manipulate with his claw tips – like he did with the needle – but too small for his hand. He grunted loudly with frustration, his stomach roaring in protest.

That caught Avice’s attention. “What is it, Lord?”

He brandished the spoon. “I cannot make this work.”

She giggled and shrugged. “Then do not use it. Just drink from the bowl.”

“But you are using it,” he huffed.

She took the spoon from his hand, along with her own, and tossed them away. They clattered into a corner, hidden from sight by the flickering shadows.

“Now I am not.”

She smiled up at him before taking a sip of her steaming broth with a little sigh.