A Queen of Ruin (Deliciously Dark Fairytales 4)

Not yet, I thought, my feet crunching in the brittle ground as I made my way to the everlass field. We’ll get to it, I promise. First we need to figure out how to get our mate up there with us.

Did I say anything?

Clearly she was feeling a little salty.

Arleth and Delaney followed me, neither of them carrying trays.

I stopped in confusion, half turning back.

“Your plants are safe. You don’t have to monitor me,” I said.

They kept walking, passing me and threading their way into the everlass field. I placed my tray on one of the sawhorses resting just outside of the field. One of them had probably set it up.

“You wish to harvest, yes?” Arleth ran her fingers along the plants and started humming softly. “We’ll help sing to them. They like when there are multiple people giving them attention and love. You’ll get the strongest working leaves with our help.”

I must’ve had a dumbfounded look on my face because Delaney said, “We don’t have to like each other, or even get along, but when you work the everlass, you do it on the plants’ terms. You do it with respect.”

It was something I might’ve said. So I walked in with them and started touching the plants as they were doing. I let my mind wander as the air moved across my skin, a slight chill hinting of the night to come. I watched the dragons soar through the sky, awash with pinks and oranges with pockets of deepening purple. And I scanned the various plants as I thought through the problem at hand.

I would heal Nyfain first, easing his pain and loosening him up, and once that happened, I would scrape out the magic trapped within him.

His remedy would have to be administered in stages, I thought. A softer sort of elixir at first, working through all the tired muscle and residual scar tissue. Then I could get a little more aggressive, and more aggressive still, until I yanked that foreign magic out of him by the roots. This was all guesswork, of course. Maybe I could do it with one elixir. That would be ideal.

Regardless, I knew in my bones that I’d need to eradicate the magic within him before we went up against Dolion. I knew, without knowing how, that Dolion would be able to use that magic to hinder Nyfain.

Pleasure curled across my flesh and fluttered in my stomach a moment before shock and longing exploded through the bond. I glanced up, catching Nyfain coming our way with Sable half jogging at his side. Vemar and a few of the Wyvern dragons trailed them, all eyes on us.

I straightened up, pulling my fingers from the plants, wondering if I should have fought Delaney more and made them leave. Maybe I was crossing a line again without realizing it.

But in the next moment, Nyfain was threading his way into the plants with us, his eyes darting between all of us and settling on me.

“Hey, baby,” he said softly as he met me, leaning over one of the plants to kiss me. “I heard you needed some help singing to the plants.”

The desire to touch him, to stay near him, to drape myself around him, clawed at me.

His smile was sanguine as he reached out and took my hand.

“That’s the imprinting,” he whispered, his gaze rooted to mine. Clearly my expressions and body language showed what I was feeling. “I’ve heard that it fades, but for us I suspect it will never totally go away.”

“I’m okay with that.” I laid my other hand on his chest and then hooked it around his neck, pulling him closer and brushing my lips across his. “And yes, I do. I want…”

I pulled back again and turned away, needing to think.

“I want melancholy.” I looked back at him to make sure he understood that I needed his special magic, the Syflora, and that I understood my request was weird. “I want…gloomy. Think of shadows and pain, and of dank, dark places. I want you to…” I thought about dropping his hand but couldn’t bear the thought, so I tugged him along instead. I stopped at a weakened plant, not crowded but not vibrant. “I want you to sing to the ailing ones especially. The ones that are struggling.”

A crease formed between his brows, but he nodded without questioning me.

I shrugged. “Maybe I’m on the wrong track, but…” I shook my head. It felt right. We’d always used the healthiest, most vibrant leaves, figuring those were the strongest. Of course we’d think that. But the crowded plants were the strongest. Maybe the plants in between packed a bigger punch without verging on poisonous?

As far as singing a melancholy tune… Well, sometimes my feelings and hunches didn’t make sense.

His fingers entwined with mine, he started singing, walking through the field and stopping at the struggling plants. Without being told to help, my sister Sable roamed with us, creating a beautiful harmony with Nyfain, taking what was already lovely and enhancing it into a melody so rich and complex it brought tears to my eyes.