CHAPTER 30

Lanri’s eyes fluttered open, and she found herself looking at the canvas canopy of her and Seeker’s tent. It was bright, she quickly noticed. Far too bright to be the early morning Seeker usually woke her up at.

She let me sleep in.

She’d slept wonderfully. Last night’s dinner had turned out better than she’d expected, and after the exhausting day of travel, she’d drifted off to a contented sleep without so much as a hint of magic from Seeker to help her on her way. She smiled, yawned, and stretched, roughly in that order, then turned onto her side to look at–

Seeker was gone. Her sleeping bag laid open and messy. She touched it, and felt it was cold. Seeker had been gone for a while. Had it come to this already? Had the Heartwarden’s mandate called her away on some errand, leaving her in Ithella’s custody for the day? The last time Seeker had had to rush off to do Ishara’s bidding, she’d at least taken the time to warn her.

With a groan, Lanri crawled out of her own sleeping bag, and into the crisp air the tent could only do so much to shield them from. She set about the chore of getting dressed, putting on her prosthetic first. She winced a little as the enchantments Seeker had laid on it activated, and sensations flooded in.

Over the last week of travel, she’d gotten used to that, and it had never been even close to as unpleasant as the first time. She still didn’t like it. It was icy fire flowing through the veins she didn’t even have anymore for a few seconds, every time. She took a few deep breaths as she waited for the sensations to die down, and once the foot felt as normal as it was liable to, she put on the rest of her clothes.

She crawled out of the tent, lone crutch in hand. The other one had never been found after the battle with the bandit mage, but that had only been a hindrance for the first few days. Between her tent and the wagon, Mara and Ithella were sitting by the camp’s fire, quietly talking over bowls of what she assumed was yesterday’s dinner.

She limped towards them using her crutch as a cane, then plopped down in the dewey grass. “Seeker’s gone,” she said, wincing a little at how petulant she sounded.

“G’morning to you too, Lanri,” said Mara as she scooped stew into a bowl for her, and offered it. Lanri eagerly accepted it, slurping down the hot broth before picking out the solids with a spoon.

“Right, sorry. Good morning,” Lanri mumbled, giving Mara a sheepish smile. “Don’t mind me. I’m just… grumpy. Seeker didn’t even warn me she had a mission.”

Ithella chuckled at something, at some joke Lanri didn’t understand, and hadn’t meant to make.

“What is it?” She asked.

“Her Grace is not gone because of her mandate, Lanri. She’s… oh, five hundred-odd meters that way.” Ithella pointed along a path leading east, into a valley that framed the rising sun beautifully. Lanri was already rising again when Ithella urged her to stay seated. “And she does not want to be disturbed.”

“I doubt that applies to me,” said Lanri with a dismissive shrug.

“Actually,” Mara’s voice came, apologetically. “It… sort of… only applies to you. She asked us to keep you away from… whatever she’s doing.”

Lanri did not care for that one bit. Seeker had never asked to be left alone before, and for her to do so through Ithella and Mara, today of all days? That stung. “You’re joking.”

Ithella sighed, and shook her head. “I’m quite sure it’s not a bad thing. She said we aren’t traveling today, and was in a jovial mood about it.”

“I’m so glad,” said Lanri, sarcastically. “It’s lovely to hear that she was jovial about not spending the day with me.” She tried to imagine what Seeker might be doing that Lanri couldn’t see, that she couldn’t have done during the night. She came up short.

“You know that’s not what Ithella meant. She was not happy about not spending time with you. She was happy despite it.”

“Thank you, Femme d’Arme,” the dark skinned elf said to her girlfriend, with a gentle rub of her thigh. Lanri frowned, and crossed her arms. “Her Grace suggested that you take some time to practice walking, and take in the views. She said she would find you once she was finished.”

Lanri sighed. “Great. Everyone’s getting to rest today, and I get to relearn how to walk.” She’d much rather stay by the fire and read a book, she decided. But she could see the merit in what Ithella was telling her. Despite them having traveled together for a week already, Lanri had spent barely any of that time actually walking, learning how to make the most of the prosthetic.

She could compromise, she supposed. Limp somewhere with a nice view and a comfortable tree to lean against, then just sit down and read something. It looked like it was going to be a fine day for that, weather wise. “Fine. Did she tell you how long that would be?”

“I wish I could tell you she did,” Ithella said with a sympathetic smile. “However, I do expect you’ll be happy to have followed her instructions.”

Lanri sighed, then struggled to her feet with a groan. “And I expect that’s easy for you to say.”

________________

Lanri groaned. She’d only been walking for a little while, and she was already out of breath. She had to put so much more energy into keeping her balance than she used to, and she just couldn’t get her body to relax.

It felt like when Faron had taught her to skate, and it had taken days of practice to not be completely rigid while doing so. Eventually she’d gotten the hang of that, though, just as she’d gotten the hang of using the crutches. That galvanized her a little. She knew she would master walking on the prosthetic soon enough. She was already growing more and more adept, and could already put more weight on it. Perhaps a few days like this really were what she needed.

As she walked along, she kept her eyes out for the views she was supposed to be taking in. There weren’t many to be had. She’d followed the same path as Seeker, but in the opposite direction. It just wound between the hills, alternating between thick groves of bamboo, and large clearings of grass. There wasn’t anything to look at that meant anything to her. She might have been able to make something of a ruined house, and she knew more about the farmland that was being plowed all over the kingdom at that very moment than she could ever articulate.

But there were no farms here, ruined or otherwise. It was just endless nature. Grass, and bigger grass, and bamboo, and around the next bend there would be even bigger grass, and bamboo-er bamboo. At least everything smelled nice. The wind carried hints of citrus, cut grass, lavender, and eucalyptus–

Eucalyptus and Lavender don’t grow here.

She stopped, and paid attention to those smells. The wind was gentle, so it couldn’t be carrying them too far. She looked around for a moment, hesitating. She didn’t want to wander from the path, and get lost – but she was curious about what she smelled, and she was supposed to practice using the prosthetic. What better way to learn than to leave the beaten path?

With a shrug, she turned and walked upwind, away from the path. It was straight up a steep hill, much to her chagrin, but the bamboo was plentiful, and sturdy enough to make for meaningful handholds. The leaves littering the floor crunched underfoot, dry and brown. They made the handful of new growth stand out all the more.

By the time she got to the top of the hill, she was sweating. She wiped her forehead, and couldn’t help but smile that the weather was turning, and it was warm enough for that. From up here, she could see almost a kilometer ahead, into an emerald green, bowl-shaped aberration of geography. It was devoid of the bamboo and the wild, tall grasses that dominated the way she came. Instead, the inside of the depression was an immaculate, and clearly well-cared-for meadow.

Short, bright green grass, occasionally interrupted by a tree colorful with fruit grew on the slopes, and at the center laid two big pools of steaming water surrounded by more kinds of flowers than she knew names for, with a purple-leafed tree in the middle. It was majestic. She decided immediately that she wanted to show this place to Seeker.

She carefully made her way down the slopes of grass, eager to understand more about this place. The grass had been cut, she could see as well as smell, but human intervention alone could not explain it. Those pools of steaming water must be the key to it. She guessed they were hot springs, and that the heat was what allowed these plants to bloom already, much like how Cerene got fresh fruit from the valleys heated by the springs in the northern Valtans.

As she got closer to the middle, she looked around, inspecting the trees and flowers. None of the trees were anything even like eucalyptus, she realized, even though this might be the only place in Remere where that had a chance in hell at growing. Her boots were stained green by the grass, and the smell of the cut was so fresh it couldn’t have been an hour, but she didn’t see anyone who might have done it. “Hello?” She called out, slightly hesitantly.

“Hello!” Came an eager response from a feminine voice. Lanri looked around as It bounced around the rim of the caldera, melting into its own echo and making it impossible to tell where it came from. “The chestnut tree ahead of you, dummy.”

It only took Lanri a moment to spot it. There weren’t that many trees down there, and only one of them didn’t have colorful fruits on it. She approached it hesitantly, instinctively moving her left hand close to her wand. She didn’t see anyone under the tree and, the closer she got, the more she felt like–

The tree rustled as soon as she got underneath the canopy, and she staggered back as a slight figure dropped down from it in ambush. She tripped and painfully landed on her tailbone, and looked down as she scrambled to draw her wand, and…

And she realized the figure wasn’t moving. Her eyes slowly trailed up, past the bare feet, up a pair of smooth legs, along a shapely torso covered by a short dress that looked like it was made of vines and leaves, and to a face framed by dark green, curly hair, with a lopsided grin plastered on it.

“Dryad,” she whispered.

The figure giggled, nodded, and curtseyed. Her eyes were those of youthful curiosity, and they were so green they almost glowed. “I take it back,” she purred, quickly getting closer. “You knew which one was the chestnut tree, and you know what I am. You’re not a dummy at all.”

Lanri scrambled back a little. “I’m… so glad to have impressed you, but…”

“Hey,” said the dryad, cutting her off with a gentle whisper. “You’ve got nothing to be afraid of here, pretty girl.”

“Yeah, well, I’d prefer to have nothing to fear from you from a distance. And I’m not a girl! I’m twenty-eight. I mean nine! Twenty-nine.”

“Oh, yes, that extra year makes all the difference,” said the dryad with mockery in her voice. “In a volcano that’s been dormant for thousands of millenia, under a tree that’s older than your kingdom, talking to the spirit of a forest that predates the very bamboo that dominates it. Your extra year really adds up.”

Lanri frowned. She wasn’t keen on being infantilized by a stranger. The dryad giggled. “Oh, don’t sulk, pretty girl, it’s far too grand of a holiday for that.”

“Then don’t call me girl,” huffed Lanri.

“I’ll stop as soon as you give me a different name to call you.”

Lanri sighed. “Lanri,” she mumbled.

The dryad’s eyes rolled into a corner, and she hemmed and hawed in a caricatural display of deep thought. “Lanri… Lanri… I’ve known of seven girls named that, I believe. Quite a popular name in my forests, for a decade or so.”

Lanri blinked at the creature. “What?”

“Lanri!” Said the dryad, as if it was an explanation. “It’s a name a mother invented for her daughter forty years ago, in a little village to the west called Meredin. By the time that Lanri was fifteen, six more parents had taken a liking to it, and six more girls had been given the name. Tell me, Lanri, twenty-nine of age. Are you one of them?”

Lanri sighed, and pointed at her chest with her thumb. “Of Bodrin,” she said. “Vattens.”

The dryad giggled, and came closer, dropping to her knees by her side. “Then you are one of them, Lanri Vattens of Bodrin.” From so close, Lanri could tell she was what smelled like eucalyptus.

“I suppose it’s nice to meet you…” Lanri paused, hoping the dryad would offer a name.

“Veris,” she said. “I’m the watcher of this vast forest.”

“I know what dryads are,” Lanri huffed, making a point of scooting away from her. “I’m sorry I’ve eaten so many of your chickens, I suppose.”

Veris rolled her eyes and giggled again. “Oh, don’t be. They’d be smarter if you weren’t supposed to eat them.”

Lanri considered that for a moment. “Or maybe I don’t know what you are. I’d… assumed you were vegan.”

“Oh, we don’t eat anything,” Veris offered. “But we understand that mortals need to.” Lanri relaxed slightly. At least she wasn’t going to try to make her pay for every blackberry she’d ever picked. “Tell me, Lanri, how did you find my little sanctuary?”

“I smelled eucalyptus. And that doesn’t grow here, so I was interested,” Lanri said. She couldn’t quite think of a good reason to lie about it.

A mix of emotions flashed across the dryad’s face, and she nervously twirled her hair with a finger. “Oh, that damned equinox. I… apologize for being so pungent. If you were another of my kind, you’d… not be seeing straight. Did you know it’s the equinox, by the way?”

Lanri sighed, and nodded. “I’m painfully aware of it,” she admitted.

The mix of emotions on Veris’ face resolved into a look of curiosity. “That sounds like a story.”

“A short one. It’s my birthday, and my–”

“Your birthday!” Said Veris with a gasp. “Oh, your birthday is the equinox?! That’s wonderful! Why, you deserve a present, then!” The dryad leapt to her feet like gravity was just a suggestion to her, and Lanri struggled to use her crutch to replicate the feat. “You walk with a crutch? And such an ugly one at that! No wonder you’re so gloomy.”

“N–no, that’s not…” Veris skipped away, towards the purple tree between the two pools, leaving Lanri to mumble “nevermind,” to herself

“If you were born on the equinox, on the day of life and fertility, I can’t in good conscience let you walk around with that.”

Lanri sighed. “My friends are probably–”

“Going to be jealous when you tell them your dryad pal Veris made you a birthday present,” purred the green-haired forest spirit. Lanri watched her climb into the purple tree with ease, and disappear from view into the thick canopy of leaves. “Let’s see… Which one of you will– Aha!”

The whole tree shook, and there was a crack that pierced Lanri to the bone. A moment later, Veris dropped down from the tree, holding a stick. She walked back towards Lanri, and rubbed her hand along it, whispering spells that made the wood grow and bend into a J shape.

Lanri couldn’t but watch, enthralled as twigs sprouted from it, leaves matured, and flowers budded and bloomed in a span of seconds, then withered and fell away, over and over again. Every time it repeated, the stick grew a little bigger, a little thicker, and a little closer to the shape of–

“A cane!” Veris proudly announced, snapping Lanri’s attention back to the dryad, rather than the feat of arboreal sorcery.

“What?” Asked Lanri. She blinked several times, and shook her head.

“For your birthday, Lanri,” said the dryad. She felt light headed. How long had that spell actually taken? Varis offered the stick to her, and she hesitantly took it. It looked like it was half of Lanri’s height, and had the rough texture of bark everywhere except the polished looking grip.

“I… I’m confused,” Lanri admitted. “What did you just do?”

“I. Made you. A birthday present,” said Veris, patiently. “It is. A cane. For walking.”

Lanri looked at the cane. She had to admit it was genuinely beautiful. It was deliberately imperfect, with a single pink flower that looked to be in full bloom remaining. She supposed the magic had not quite had the time to wither it. “Thank you,” she whispered.

“You’re welcome.” The dryad grinned, and curtseyed again. That flower was so pretty, and Lanri wondered how it smelled. After a moment’s hesitation, she decided it was silly to fight her curiosity. So she lifted the cane, and she slowly breathed in. It smelled wonderful, like lavender and… And eucalyptus. And that smell made her feel wonderful, too. “Do you have any plans to celebrate the equinox, Lanri? Or your birthday?”

Lanri giggled, and shook her head. “I… I was going to… To…” She blinked again.

“What’s the matter, dummy?” Asked Veris. The world started to spin, ever so slowly, and Lanri was grateful she could dig her new cane into the ground for support. “Dizzy? Focus on me,” came her voice, and it seemed to come from everywhere again.

“I… I think I’m sick,” Lanri mumbled, and she staggered back. She collapsed into a dazed pile of she. Her head was getting light, and her vision was going dark, like with Seeker. But Seeker wasn’t there.

“You’re not sick, you just…”

“I’m hot,” she realized, staring at the steaming pools of water.

Hands appeared on her shoulders, helping her off take her… Her what? She couldn’t remember. She just wanted them off. This heat was making it so, so hard to think. She had… There was someone, someone she loved, someone who could help her. But she couldn’t remember that someone anymore than she could remember what was making her feel so strange.

“Please help me,” she whispered. Her breathing was speeding up, and that smell of… that plant that didn’t grow here was so strong, so overwhelming. She couldn’t get away from it, but–

“Don’t worry,” whispered a voice into her ear, and she knew that voice belonged to the hands that were freeing her skin, helping her cool off. She leaned into it, into that voice, letting it help her. The voice’s hands wrapped around her own, bringing them together and gently holding them. From underneath them, green vines grew along her wrists, cool, and safe, and tight. She watched them darken for a while, fascinated by the fact that they grew stiffer and harder. “I think you just need to eat something.”

The voice walked away, leaving her behind. Her top half didn’t have the things on them anymore, but her legs still did, and her feet had even worse things on them. She struggled with the little ropes that held everything together, and kicked until things started to come off. First her foot got free, then her… Her not-foot, and then her legs. Once she was completely free, and the soft, warm things were scattered around her, she let out a relieved sigh. She felt so much better, now.

She stretched out on the grass, relishing the feeling of it between her toes and along her back, and she grinned at the sun with her eyes closed. It wasn’t hot anymore, now that she had those oppressive things off, and her skin could breathe and feel the nature around her.

The green-haired voice returned, and she looked at it. It looked so sad, she realized. “What’s wrong?” She asked it.

“Your foot, dummy,” said the voice, sadly. “No wonder you were limping.”

The voice sat down in the grass with her, and lifted her head into its lap. “It’s okay,” she whispered to it, knowing it to be true. “I have a…” She paused, and tried to think, tried to remember. There was… There was something to remember, she knew. Something about herself that had been there before, but she couldn’t find.

“You’re confused, aren’t you?” Asked the voice, and she nodded. The voice giggled when she did that, and she liked the sound of the voice giggling, so she did it again. “I have something for you that will make that go away, if you’d like.”

“W–what is it?” She asked.

The voice giggled again. “So curious, you. I really like that.” It snapped its fingers once, and she followed the sound with her eyes. The hand that had snapped was pointing out an absurdly big leaf, folded into a bowl, and covered with fruit. She recognized most of it, even though the names eluded her. There were orange fruits, green fruits, red fruits, and–

“What’s the pink one?”

“That’s going to be the end of the confusion, dummy,” said the voice, and it tapped her nose. “It’s the fruit of my big purple tree, there in the middle of the grove. You’ll love it.”

“It looks delicious.”

“I’ve never met a mortal that didn’t like it,” agreed the voice. “But… it’s a little early for that, isn’t it? Let’s start with a peach.”

The voice held out one of the fruits, a big, juicy looking ball of fuzzy orange and pink. “Would you like to hear a story?”

She nodded as the voice brought the fruit she’d called a peach to her mouth, and she took a big, greedy bite. It was soft, and sweet, and the juice trickled down her face, and into the voice’s lap. Before she could take a second bite, the fruit was pulled away, and in a soft tone of chastisement, she teased “it’s not very polite to eat while lying down, is it? You should sit straight.”

One of the voice’s feet tapped a spot in the grass, and she scrambled to be there. She planted her knees in the soft ground, and once she noticed the vines around her wrist made it difficult to lean back, she put her weight forward.

“Good girl!” The voice eagerly praised her. It sent a shiver down her back, and started a heat between her legs. It was such a familiar feeling, being praised by someone who sounded as smart as the voice, and she was just starting to pull at the threads of memory when the voice offered her the peach again. This time, the juices dripped onto her own hands, or trickled down her chin, and neck, onto her chest in sticky streaks that felt cold in the breeze.

“My story, pretty girl, is about today,” started the voice. It was beautiful, she realized, the tangle of green curls as vibrant as the field they were in. The rest of its green, though? The stuff that had covered its torso? That was gone, letting her stare at the beautiful feminine forms it had been hiding. “Today is your birthday. It’s the day of new growth, when Ishara and Hayer bless the new year, and the little mortals of the world plant the crops they’ll eat for the rest of the year.”

She blinked, slowly. Everything it was telling her sounded familiar, more like it was helping her remember than teaching her something new. She was grateful for that. She was pretty sure learning new things would be impossible at the moment.

“It’s when all of those farmers come out of their huts for the first time,” the voice continued. It picked a different fruit from its leaf, this one big and green, shaped like a teardrop. It was delicious. A little mealier than the peach had been, but just as rich and sweet. “They plow their fields together all day long, working up a sweat, showing off their bodies, and…”

“And?” She asked, eagerly.

“And then, once Hayer’s work is done, many of those farmers, the ones who liked how another looked and smelled, get to enjoy Ishara’s reward.”

“Ishara’s so nice…” She whispered with a happy sigh, as the voice picked up a small fruit, a red thing with a tuft of green that reminded her of the green hair she could see between its legs. It giggled as it plucked the tuft from the fruit, then used one hand to open her mouth as wide as it could go before gently popping the fruit inside.

She chewed it. It was firmer than the other two, but sweeter, too. “That’s a strawberry, dummy,” teased the voice with a giggle. “And I agree. Ishara is very, very nice. She’s so nice, she gave you to me, it seems.”

“I’m not Ishara’s,” she mumbled. “I’m… I’m…”

The voice put a finger on her lips. She knew that gesture. It meant she should be quiet, that the voice already knew what she wanted to say, and that she could just let it go. “You’re getting confused again, aren’t you?”

She nodded, and the voice shifted a little closer, letting her look into those big, green eyes for answers. One of its hands stroked her cheek, while the other moved away, and reached for the last piece of fruit in the bowl. It was the small, pink thing, and it held it between them for a moment, like it was treasure.

“This will help with that, once you’re ready for it,” the voice promised, pressing it to her lips. She started to part her lips, eager to try this final treat that would help her with her confusion, but the voice pulled it away. “Not yet. You don’t want it yet, not really.”

“I… I don’t know… I don’t know what I want,” she whined. “I feel…”

The hand stroking her cheek started to move down, first along her throat, then down her chest. “If you don’t know what you want, I’ll just have to teach you, pretty little dummy.”

“Yes,” she gasped. Everything was so hazy, and it was so hard to think. But the idea of learning, of being taught, shone like a lighthouse as something she craved.

The voice leaned closer, again pressing the fruit to her lips. “You smell like love, pretty girl,” teased the voice as the hand trailed down a little farther, onto her belly, then along her side, and up and down her back. There was a fire burning between her legs, a keen need to be touched there, not these other places.

“I…” She tried to talk again, and the fruit was replaced by that finger against her lips.

“I don’t care,” the voice purred, holding the fruit up between them, drawing her gaze onto it. “And soon, you won’t either.”

“Wha…?”

“Oh, that wonderful curiosity.” The voice giggled. “If you want to know, though, the only way to find out is to” – it paused, and pressed the small pink fruit to her lips with one hand, as the other trailed down to between her legs – “finish.”

She stared into those green eyes, and they didn’t betray a hint of what was to come. But… she felt good, and those eyes and that voice were so gentle, so loving. She knew she could trust it, that it would make her feel even better. She nodded slightly, and as the voice came ever closer to reaching that need, she parted her lips for–

“No!” Came a new voice. “Crachez!”

Power rolled over her, a euphoric wave of it that compelled her to spit the fruit out. It almost felt good enough to be worth not finding out what it would have done.

________________

Mischief ran across the dryad’s field as fast as they could. The mortal, Lanri, was enthralled, they knew. She didn’t so much as look at them, even though she’d sensed them invoke Ishara’s power. She simply stared at the forest spirit, oblivious of how close she’d been to oblivion.

“You always were the most foolish of the dryads, Veris,” they growled at her as they skidded to a stop, and dropped to their knees in the grass. The mortal was bound, they noticed, vines had grown around her wrists, trapping her.

“Foolish for taking Ishara’s gifts when they’re offered to me?”

“Yes!” Hissed Mischief. They searched the grass for a moment, then found the pink Fruit. They picked it up, checking to see if the mortal had already bitten into it when they’d intervened. Thank the gods that she hadn’t. “The Lady is a fickle creature, and you’d have regretted it if I’d been even a second later.”

The dryad crossed her arms. “And why would that be, oh great and powerful Heartwarden?”

Mention of the word Heartwarden cut through the mortal’s fugue, they could tell. She looked at them for a moment, and despite her best efforts, those big eyes were completely devoid of the wit she’d need to make sense of it.

“Imagine wildfires, dryad! A raging inferno brought down on all you hold dear–”

“Dear…” whispered Lanri. There might be more awareness left than they’d thought.

“–all that is precious to you, ruined by a lover torn between grief and jealousy.”

“Ishara would never–”

Mischief groaned in frustration. They did not have time to argue this with her. They reached into the mortal’s tangle of hair, and plucked out the golden brooch that shielded her from Ishara and their aura. “Not Ishara, you fool!” They turned the brooch in their hands, until Seeker’s sigil, her inquisitive eye, caught the sun. Then they handed it to her. “Ishara doesn’t mind sharing her pets. She very much does. That’s why I need her.”

“Seeker,” whispered Lanri to their side. They looked at her for a moment, and her eyes betrayed more guile than even seconds before. She stared at them with reverent awe, and in spite of her bindings, she threw herself at them a moment later. She concerningly warm to the touch, and she hooked her arms behind their neck before she pressed her lips to theirs. “Saved me again.”

She thinks I’m her.

They sighed. That wasn’t guile, it was delirium. “Lanri, you–” she cut them off with another kiss. Needy. Eager. Fever-addled from the dryad’s pheromones. The mortal didn’t notice that they were as short as her, nor that their hair was black. To her, they looked like who she wanted to see, just like for everyone else.

“I despise poachers, Mischief,” growled Veris.

They rolled their eyes at the dryad, then returned their attention to Lanri. The mortal lived and breathed to please Seeker, they knew, so perhaps calming her down would be as simple as shifting their voice up to match Seeker’s, and– “Stop!” They snapped at her.

She obeyed. They could sense her thoughts, sensed the scathing command ripple through her like it were physical pain. Seeker truly had done a remarkable job of training and grooming her.

“Just… sit here, and wait,” they sternly told her, putting the nude woman back on her knees, and returning their attention to Veris. “You know I’m not poaching her. Heartwardens don’t put a stop to things like this unless it’s necessary.”

Veris huffed. “The first mortal to wander into my glade this year, smart as a whip and eager as a puppy, born on the equinox, and you tell me I can’t have her. That’s hardly fair.”

“If you knew Seeker like I do, you’d be on your knees thanking me for saving you from her,” Mischief growled. They looked down at the little pink Fruit. “If you’d fed her your Ignorance, you would have been dead already, and just not known it.”

The dryad scoffed, and Mischief marched up to her. “Do you think I’m joking? Do you think I’d have left My Lady’s side under false pretenses, come down to Eitheris to stop this if I thought it didn’t matter? Seeker is more Valkyrie than Heartwarden, Veris. She would have noticed the Ignorance, and she would have followed that thread all the way back to you.”

The flippance drained from her face, slightly, as she started to realize they were serious. “She would have turned your trees to char and your bamboo to ash for her. And I would not have come to save you. Because I need Seeker and this mortal to be together.”

The dryad considered that for a moment, before her features curled into malice. Behind them, she could hear Lanri wince, as more vines sprouted from the grass, and coiled around the woman’s arms and legs, fixing her in place.

“What do you think you’re doing?!” Demanded Mischief. “Did you not hear a thing I said?”

The dryad giggled, and started to slowly walk around them in a circle, running fingers along their muscular arms. “Oh, no. I heard everything, Your Grace,” she purred. “I heard you talk about lying to Ishara, about needing this mortal untainted by my Ignorance.”

Dread started to bubble up in Mischief. They’d been in such a rush to put a stop to this that they’d said too much. Far too much.

Behind them, Veris put a hand on their other arm, as well. She stroked them both up to their shoulders, then down their back in one slick motion that made them come out in goosebumps. “I wonder how badly whatever scheme this is would be disrupted if I were to draw Ishara’s attention to it, Heartwarden,” she purred. “And I wonder what I might consider fair compensation for losing out on this delicious treat Ishara allowed to stumble into my valley.”

Mischief did their best to suppress a sigh. They didn’t come here to play, but if that’s what it would take to ensure Veris’ silence, they could humor her for a few hours. “I’m sure I could think of something.”

The dryad kept walking, until she was directly in front of them, eyes big with avarice. “Oh, I bet you could, but I already had something in mind,” she said, taking their hands in hers. She plucked the Fruit of Ignorance from their hand, and held it it up. “I did have plans for her, you know.”

Some distance away, the confused mortal whined, expecting them to save her as Seeker would. This time, Mischief did not suppress their sigh. The Fruit of Ignorance was dryad sorcery. It wouldn’t do too much to them, but it would certainly do something.

“My, my. Are you nervous, Mischief?” Veris giggled. “A big strong Heartwarden like yourself won’t suffer my Ignorance too long, no matter how eager you are.”

They looked at Lanri, who by now was covered in flowering vines that addled her mind and confused her senses almost as much as Veris herself. She needed to get back to Seeker, and soon. Their whole plan would–

“I am oh so curious why two Heartwardens would not only fixate on the same girl, but actually want to hide her from their Lady.” Veris paused, and pressed the Fruit to their lips. “Let’s hope you can… distract me from my curiosity.”

Mischief grinned. If this was the way to ensure their success, a few hours of fun with Veris was a small price to pay. “Let’s,” they purred, and took a bite from the Fruit.