Incomplete Love Story

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Merla brushed an errant curl of soft brown hair away from Kruxeral’s face, fingers trailing down his cheek to the stubble starting to grow along his jaw. The cold, wet, winter day was fading into dusk, causing the room to take on a blue hue that made the elegant four poster bed go from a rosey red to a lush violet. She spent a lot of time in these rooms, watching over Kruxeral, studying the panes of his face, looking for any change. If it weren’t for his steady, minimal breathing, Merla would think that he was dead. She knows what stillness a body has when there is no life in it. Still, the thought sends a jolt of worry through her every time she has it.

She sets aside the soup bowl in her hands, now empty after feeding what she could to Kruxeral, and lays down next to him. The fragrance of summer in her hair wafts up as it pools in a golden peach puddle in the crook of his neck before resting her head on his chest.

Bu-bum…bu-bum…bu-bum…

Merla listens to the rhythm of Kruxeral’s heart, the worry of a moment before disappearing. The air moving through his lungs is a gentle accompaniment and she starts to feel herself relax more as her eyes begin to drift close…

“How does he fair?”

Just on the cusp of falling asleep, Astra’s question awakens her gently. She stands at the foot of the bed, starlight eyes regarding the two of them on the bed together with unreadable intent. Merla props herself up on an elbow, gazing down at Kruxeral’s woodbrown features, willing them to do something, anything to indicate that he is alright.

Of course, she knows that won’t happen.

“The same, no change,” she says softly. She leans in and lays a gentle kiss on his forehead.

Astra comes up to the side of the bed, peering down at Kruxeral. Merla watches her, not sure what she intends to do or say. Astra had listened to everything Merla told her about what happened in the Emerald Holt, their journey into Kruxeral’s mind, the confrontation with Archon Varra in the Black Heart Cabal’s Mind Palace, and the sacrifice Kruxeral made to get her and Faye out of there. That was a week before and still Astra had not said anything for or against Kruxeral. Merla suspected her companion still did not trust him, but she did not like the idea of things left unspoken between them.

Maybe she should try and clear things up.

“Astra I-”

“I understand,” she answers the question Merla was about to ask. The small woman sits up properly, waiting, sensing there is more Astra was going to tell her.

“When my father was speaking to me he was fervent in his opinion about my choice to stay by your side. He is as much of a symbol of loyalty and bravery to the fey people as he is a believer in those ideals. It is difficult to live up to such expectations but… sometimes we, the children of such godly beings, must do things in our own way.”

Astra lifts her head and her spiraling horn begins to glow, casting dancing rainbows of starlight across the bed. Then the glow fades and the room is awash in dusky blue once more.

“There are layers to everything you do but at your core is a deep wellspring of Love. If every choice you make is born from such a source it gives me hope. Hope that there is something more, something bigger to strive for, something that can affect change for the better.”

Astra looks down to Kruxeral, lowering her muzzle and gently exhaling over the place where Merla kissed him. As she does, the spot on his skin appears to glow for a moment. Merla’s eyes widen in surprise, but then it is gone.

“What was…” Merla starts to ask but Astra heads towards the door. She looks back and forth between her and Kruxeral, now not sure if she saw what she had. “Astra, wait!”

The winged unicorn pauses. Merla comes over, hands reaching up to Astra. She looks into her companion’s eyes, the telepathic bond allowing her to convey the gratitude and happiness she feels towards her. Astra lowers her muzzle to Merla’s chest as the small woman embraces her, the two resting their foreheads together.

There is a light tapping on glass.

“Are you expecting anyone?” Astra asks, looking outside the window. It’s nearly full dark and it’s hard for her to see.

“Not that I am–” Merla squints and she sees the familiar shape of a short, stout figure with what appears to be twigs and leaves poking out of a mess of hair. Her eyes adjust a bit more, the blue shifting to shades of grey and she sees the figure waving at her pointedly.

“Khazifa?”

Merla walks into the next room, the fire low making the shadows long and dark. She goes up to the double glass doors that exit onto the private terrace and peers through the velvet curtains. Standing there, bouncing on her feet to keep warm is the unmistakable figure of Khazifa.

“It would be really nice to come in and have a hot cup of tea. Maybe talk about that thing you asked me about, eh?” the dwarf enunciated clearly through the thick glass as Merla continued to stare at her, bemused. “Sometime before my fingers freeze and fall off,” Khazifa adds, half sarcastically.

Merla unlocks the door and ushers the dwarf inside, quickly closing the door behind her. Fat drops of rain were starting to come down, which could easily become snow or even ice by the way the temperature was dropping.

“Ah, yes. So much better. Oh, let’s just-,” she waves a hand at the fireplace and it roars into bigger and brighter life. “That’s much better. Now, where is the sleeping man you spoke of? I would see him and then you can tell me all the details of how he came to be in such a state. You mentioned Unseelie Cabals and a Mind Palace! Most curious…” Khazifa makes a beeline for the bedchambers trailing off as she goes.

Merla is left standing in the front rooms, a half frazzled smile on her face, sharing a look with Astra.

Khazifa pops her head back out and there’s a mischievous light in her eyes.

“On second thought, forget the tea. A double bourbon cocktail will do and keep them coming. I have a feeling you’re about to tell me will be quite a tale.”

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“So, will you be able to help?” Merla asks, setting down her glass of feywine on the low table in front of her. Astra was laying down beside her, cushions around them as they sat in front of the roaring fireplace.

A full course meal with bottomless cocktails had been ordered and sent to her rooms for Khazifa to enjoy as she told her the highlights of what happened and how Kruxeral’s mind got separated from his body. Retelling even the simplest parts of the tale had been difficult as she was still processing everything Kruxeral had told her he had done. But she will have time to figure that out. She would need to if Merla was to have any hope at bringing him back.

And she will bring him back.

“Of course I will, Sheryl,” Khazifa replied, reclining back on the chaise lounge. “But, well… brewing one potion is expensive enough but five will be quite a bit of gold.”

“I will pay you whatever you need. I will even help gather ingredients if I must. Kruxeral cannot stay like this. I must get him back.”

“You are right,” the druid says solemnly, looking into the elegant cocktail glass as she swirls its contents. “The sooner we can bring his mind back to his body the better – for him and for you.”

“Intuitive she is,” Astra observes to Merla.

Something in the dwarf’s eyes causes a thorn of worry to pierce Merla’s heart.

“For this I would not be paid in gold, though there will be a monetary cost for brewing the potions. I have in mind a different kind of payment.”

Skeptically, Astra says, “Intriguing.” 

“Go on,” is all Merla says.

Khazifa lounges back further on the chaise, the beginnings of a Cheshire like grin spreading across her face as she continues to swirl her cocktail.

“I hear the parties in the Summer Court are… something else. I also hear you are a woman of your word, that once you give it you honour it.”

Merla remains silent, her own soft, reserved smile barely touching her lips. Khazifa gives a little chuckle.

“In exchange for making these potions for you I want VIP access for life to any future revels in the Summer Court.” Her grin grows wide and toothy, something wild and untamed flitting across her face. “I am a bit of a party animal, so I would love to see how these revels are. See if they really are all that. He is the one who plans these parties, yes? Take this as my stake in ensuring you get your Master of Revelries back from wherever his mind is trapped.”

The Daughter of Summer is silent for a moment, thinking. It could be beneficial having an ally in Khazifa. Giving her something like this could be the foundations for building that bridge that could span to other opportunities. This would also be the first time Merla’s word would affect more than just her. There could be repercussions for agreeing to this bargain on behalf of her home.

But if it means she can save Kruxeral, Merla would give her word gladly and live with the consequences.

She picks up her glass of feywine, holding it aloft.

“On behalf of the Summer Court and the Master of Revelries, I give you, Khazifa, an open VIP invitation to future Summer Court revels.” Holds up a finger. “This does not extend to anyone else – only you.” Merla brings her glass towards Khazifa’s.

“I accept,” the dwarf says with a grin. She clinks her glass against Merla’s, the bargain made.