Page 56 of The Knucker King

She supervised the Faeries as they eventually found a routine: they mixed the water and clothes with a branch, then hefted the sopping garments out, and finally, a younger gaggle of Pillywiggins would wring the clothing and air dry it with beats of their wings.

Turning back to the cottage as the Faeries continued their work, she focused on the boar’s leg. Her mouth watered at the idea of smoked meat and bone broth. She trudged back inside and fetched a carving knife.

21

Chapter 21

Avice

As the Sun dipped below the barren trees, Avice finally locked away the freezing night. She placed her hand on her pendant and scanned her cottage with a contented hum. The place had been swept, her clothes washed and folded away into her coffers, ash cakes had been baked, herbed bone broth simmered over the fire, and she had cleaned her body before slipping on a fresh chemise and stockings.

Avice wandered over to the hearth and pulled the smoked boar meat from the hooks that hung over the fire. She was woozy, having not eaten all day, too focused on her need for orderliness. She tossed some meat to Bramble and Ashling before taking a big bite herself. She had rubbed the game with thyme and salt, giving it a rich, earthy flavour that she savoured before finally swallowing. She frowned at the bundles of herbs piled on the table as she took a second mouthful. It was the only chore left to do that day, besides tending to her arm, but she did not have the energy to climb up and wind them back onto the beams.

Instead, she flopped down onto the pallet next to a still sleeping Trewoofe. Continuing her chewing, she elevated her aching feet on a bundled bit of fur. The past two days had made her use muscles she had forgotten she possessed. With a pinch of regret, she reached for the cup of healing water besides her, hoping it would ease the strain. Normally she would save the water from the sacred well for her medicines, but she had used a ridiculous amount throughout the day.

She tried to ignore the throb of her arm.

Avice sighed and attempted to tug some of the blankets over her. Trewoofe had cocooned himself in them, his cheeks flushed from the warmth. Her eyebrows pinched together as she studied his face. When did he last wake? He had not eaten since he arrived and had nothing to drink since his early morning cup of tea.

Her arm pounded again.

“God’s blood!” she snarled, sitting up on the pallet.

Are you well? Bramble asked, concern shining in his eyes.

She shoved the last of the meat into her mouth. “I will let you know,” she mumbled.

Biting the inside of her cheek, the midwife gingerly peeled back the many layers of bandages on her arm. The blood had dried, sticking the cloth together, and the closer she got to the wound, the tougher it was to tug away.

“Ow,” she whimpered.

Bramble padded over to her and licked her temple. She finally pulled away the final layer and eyed the wound she had inflicted on herself to save the Knucker that now slept in her bed.

Nature’s blessing, Avice! Bramble exclaimed. You did not have carve yourself up, surely a drop of blood or two would have done the trick?

She blinked down at her arm in shock. She had deeply sliced herself, and the wound still wept tears of scarlet.

“I did not really think.” She swallowed. “I just could not bear to lose him, Bramble. I cannot lose anyone else.”

Feelings stirred within her that she was not ready to address. Why had she been so willing to risk herself? To offer the very life in her veins to save the Well King? Why did her chest ache so much when she thought of him? The midwife squeezed her eyes closed and took deep breaths to calm her galloping heart.

Focus on the task at hand, you need to sew yourself closed. Your arm will be permanently damaged if you leave it like this. Get going!

Avice tucked her chin against her chest, unable to move. Her thoughts crashed against one another like waves on the shore. She jolted at the sensation of claws dimpling her upper arm. She looked over her shoulder and met Trewoofe’s crimson eyes. They sparked with concern. A line appeared between his eyebrows as he dropped his gaze to her throbbing arm.

He sucked air through his fangs, lines deepening at the edges of his lips. “I never want you to hurt yourself for my sake again.”

“Do not tell me off, Trewoofe,” she sniffed, burning tears travelling down her cheeks. “I cannot bear to be scolded by any more men in my life.”

He blanched at that and shifted himself around, so they were face to face. It did not escape Avice how he gripped at his bandaged torso as he did so. Bramble snuffled at her ear, and with a whine, dropped his head next to her on the bedding. With her good arm, she curled her fingers into his fur.

“Little witch,” he said softly, “you must forgive me. The words came from my concern for you.” He reached out a hand. “Is it alright if I touch you?”

She nodded, sniffling. He brushed away her tears with his thumb, sending a tingle down her back. A bolt of lightning passed between them as their faces met again. She watched as his throat bobbed several times, and she knew he felt the charge between them too.

Trewoofe coughed. “Will you let me help you?”

She nodded.