Victor

Fion’s mere quiet presence at the dinner table has a strangely civilizing effect on Mirantha’s officers, and me as well. The usually raucous event of mealtime becomes a somber affair, with everyone returning to their haunches of horse meat more reservedly. Some even give consideration to the forks and knives that usually lay untouched beside their plates, so that I hear the faint clink of metal rising from the room.

Watching her eat the juicy green apple recalls to my mind the long forgotten taste of fruit and puts a hunger in my belly so sharp it’s all I can do not to pilfer the second apple from her plate.

As though sensing this, Fion uses her knife to cut the second apple in half and offers it to me. I look away quickly, spurning her gift, but she leaves it untouched on the side of her plate for me. Eventually the scent of cut fruit is more than I can take, and I snatch it from her with a growl, devouring it seeds and all.

It’s sour and unbelievably sweet. My mouth puckers and my blood roars to life at the taste of it. I was feeling tired and sluggish before, but  suddenly I feel the urge to jump up and run laps around the castle.

Is this her magic? I look to her questioningly. As though guessing my thoughts, Fion shakes her head, her eyes crinkling faintly at the corners with the hint of a smile.

“Earth’s bounty feeds not only the stomach, but the body and mind as well.”

As the evening wears on, I begin to agree with her sentiment. Not only do I feel more lively, I’m thinking more clearly as well, so that in no time at all my mind is made up.

“The season is right,” I tell Dors Grobeez. “Send a group east tomorrow to harvest fresh fruit from the orchards.”

“Fruit?” sneers the gargoyle.

“That’s right, fruit. We’re animals, not stone. We need variety in our diet if Mirantha’s army is to function at its highest potential.”

With a sneer of contempt Dors scrapes away, leaving me alone once again with Fion.   

“It’s late,” I say, feeling strangely self-conscious when she persists in looking at me so directly. “We’ll go to bed now.”

She follows me up the stairs of the western tower, surprised when I don’t escort her to the top floor. I give her space to use the facilities and answer her questioning expression when she comes out.

“You’ll sleep with me, tonight.”

She does not flinch at this news, but walks to the window and extends a hand.

“What are you doing?” I ask suspiciously. “No magic.”

Fion cocks her head slightly, and gives me a look I could almost interpret as playful. Is she teasing me?

She pulls her hand away from the window to reveal two twigs. I watch the ends magically peel away, revealing an inner bristly texture.

“Does your mouth not feel unpleasant?”

“Sorry?”

“Chew the end,” she says, pressing one of the twigs to my hand. I watch her doubtfully as she does the same, chewing on the brush-like tip. Haltingly, I mimic her.

We chew for a while, softening the bristles. Then Fion holds the twig perpendicular to her mouth and begins to brush her teeth with it. Curious, I do the same. It feels good, agitating the teeth and the gums like this. I feel some of the bristles even going between my teeth, flossing out stubborn bits of meat.

When we’re finished, Fion takes a leaf from the window sill that I do not remember seeing her summon, and she drinks water from the hollow of it, spitting out the window. Then she passes the leaf to me. I watch the water well within it before my eyes. I try it, and it tastes so good it’s all I can do not to swallow immediately.

“Spit first,” she urges me. “Thou shalt have as much water as… you need.”

I do as she directs, then watch fascinated as more water wells in the leaf. It fills again each time I drink, the purest, most delicious water I’ve ever tasted.

I look to Fion with wonder. “You’re creating this?”

“Valion creates all things. I merely summon it.”

The more I see of Fion’s ability, the more I am in awe of her. From what I’ve witnessed she has the power to heal the earth and its creatures alike. She has an almost god-like ability to call forth rain and water and to make plants grow at an astounding speed. Besides all this, she can use that same ability offensively, summoning vines to tear her opponents to shreds if she so wishes.

She is a force of nature; she is life itself. So what, I ask myself, is she doing here with me? Even if she does not know Mirantha, she must have at least guessed by now what the witch has in store for her if she stays.

It’s for me, I know that. She stays for me. But I don’t want to be here anymore than she does. Why if I could, I’d take her west this very instant and use her power to—

But no, I remind myself. That is impossible. I cannot, dare not go against her again. The Crimson Witch.

There is no defying her will. I tried it before, and lost everything for my folly. It doesn’t matter how powerful Fion’s magic is. Mirantha’s shadow stretches too far. We can never escape it.

Coldness spreads through my limbs as I put a stranglehold on my hope for the second time today before it can run away with me. I crush the leaf in my hand and let it fall to the floor.

“Thou art troubled,” she observes as I begin to rummage through my war chest, then colors slightly as she corrects herself. “That is— you… are. Troubled.”

“You don’t need to push yourself,” I answer her gruffly as I sit her on the edge of my bed. “You only woke up a few days ago, your speech patterns won’t change overnight.”

“I wish to speak as you do.”

“Suit yourself.”

“What is this?” she asks as I secure a collar around her neck. She watches with a cold look while I bind the other end to my own wrist.

“What it looks like. I’m making sure you don’t run away in the night.”

“But thou knowest—” she stops herself again, so determined to speak to me in the modern dialect. I can’t tell yet whether I find it endearing or annoying.

“You know I’d never leave you, Victor.”

“Sorry, but I can’t take that chance. Now that I know how powerful you are, the only way you’re getting out of here is over my dead body.”

Fion’s look is grave. “You must know that even your great strength is no match for my power.”

“Sure, I know that. Like I know you’d never kill me,” I say with a confidence I sense irks her slightly. The notion pulls a faint smirk of satisfaction from me. The idea of annoying the ageless, always perfectly composed Fion, of getting under her skin, I don’t hate it at all.

“Just put up with the indignity after dark. I swear I’ll release you in the morning.”

“Very well,” she sighs with resignation, and it hits me suddenly.

She’s pretty, I decide in a split instant. I wasn’t sure before, but now I see her in my room, perched lightly on the edge of my bed, looking up at me with her lips pressed and her green eyes faintly narrowed in annoyance, I can say it for certain. Her noble brow, her perfect posture, her fine eyebrows and sweet little mouth, all clean and white from years of faithful brushing, all of her is exactly my taste.

On impulse, I lift my free hand to touch her long gray braid, enchanted by the unusual color. She follows my motions with cautious eyes, tolerating me for now.

“Was it gray before?” I ask. “Or did it turn while you slept?”

“It is the same. My father’s hair was also gray from his youth.”

She starts a little as I put my knee beside her on the mattress, all but straddling her as I take her head in my hands and bring my mouth to hers for a kiss. She pulls away from me in alarm.

“What are you doing?”

“You said you wanted to get to know me better,” I taunt her, feeling my desire mount as I see uncertainty dancing in her innocent eyes.

“And how will kissing help us know one another?”

“Why, there’s no better way, Darlin’,” I tease, scraping my lips along her cheek to breathe against her ear.

“I don’t know about that,” she shivers.

“Why are you hesitating? I thought you said I was your true love.”

“You’re taking advantage of my feelings,” she accuses hoarsely, though I sense the beginnings of her surrender.

But of course, I think, trailing kisses down her neck. You’ve really made this… all too easy.