Page 92 of The Knucker King

Ashling bobbed in front of her face, drawing her attention.

“An offering.” She chewed the inside of her cheek, wishing she had a hand free to clasp her pendant.

He flared purple and back to blue.

“For the Nightly Neighbours. I want to make a bargain with them.”

He flashed red.

“I know, I know. But what other Faerie do you know who could track down the source of the poison in the middle of a blizzard?” she asked. “I need to do something before he returns.”

Ashling let out a series of chirps.

“Of course, I do not want him to go,” she replied. “But he needs to. He is a Sidhe King, all the Faeries he looks after and protects from—”

The Wisp sparked and let out a single note.

“I do not know how he can bear to be around me after what humans did to him.”

He turned crimson and back to blue.

“I know it was not me who did that to his family.” She chewed her lip and looked up into the storming night. “Let us get back to what we came out here to accomplish.”

Avice pulled out the healing crystal. It sung as she wove the pulsing flowers around it. She rushed, her fingers freezing despite her gloves, and fumbled the stalks and vines. Common sense told her to go back inside and prepare the offering properly. She tossed logic aside. She had to make sure Trewoofe, the Underneath, and the children would be safe when he returned. She had not known – before their days together – about the Sidhe Kings, and their guardianship of the Otherworlds.

“It is too important,” Avice muttered, fixing the final bloom in place.

She held the offering in front of her face, inspecting it for any obvious flaws. There was no rhyme or reason to her creations, she followed her instincts, as though her soul knew what to do.

“That is what is means to be a Faerie-speaker and a witch.”

She repositioned one flower, and a spark of power clicked into place. The wreath sung, and the frozen blooms shone. She grinned at her creation: a central blue geode, wrapped in vines, kissed by tiny blue and white flowers. The arrangement reminded her of Winter, the perfect gift for the Nightly Neighbours who stalked the longest nights.

She nodded to her Wisp and set off at a fast march down the garden path.

At the boundary, the translucent purple shifted and swirled in front of her, the enchantment struggling to fend off the worsening storm.

Winter raged.

The wind against the ward bellowed, the frost gnawed at her joints, and she fought the impulse to flee from the freezing night and return to Trewoofe’s arms. Still bright, Ashling landed on her head. She peered into the blizzard but could sense nothing, her sight would not allow her to see and hear the incorporeal through the violent elements.

“I will have to call them. Ashling, are you ready?”

He chimed in response.

Avice braced her knees, rooting herself to the Wisp on her head. She filled her lungs with the stinging air, ignoring the tears it brought to her eyes. The ink along her back boiled and writhed beneath her skin – setting her teeth on edge – as she pulled on the threads of power thrumming from Ashling. The air crackled with sparking blue as the tattoo along her spine glowed.

She opened her mouth.

“NIGHTLY NEIGHBOURS!”

The words hurt, scalding her throat as they echoed into the storm.

She dropped her chin to her chest, breath ragged, puffing out streams of mist.

Ashling pealed with alarm.

Avice snapped her gaze up, and up. One loomed, a hairbreadth from the shimmering protection that separated them. She tilted her head at a sickening angle, her pointed, frozen ear touching her shoulder.