Page 91 of The Knucker King
What if they do it again?
The midwife could not bear it. They had barely survived the first time.
What can I do to keep him safe? To keep the Underneath safe? To keep Hope and Boarden safe?
An idea struck her like lightening.
The decision made, she extracted herself from her Knucker’s arms. He mumbled her name as she pulled away from his embrace. Just as she was about to slip from the pallet, claws snagged her wrist.
“Avice.” Trewoofe cracked an eye open. “Where are you going?”
“I need to relieve myself,” she whispered. “Go back to sleep.”
He yawned widely – jaw clicking – before settling back into slumber. She burnt with guilt at lying to him. Avice was honest to a fault, and the falsehood stained her tongue. But she knew if she told him her plan, he would try to stop her.
Bramble snored loudly as she tiptoed past, his paws twitching as he dreamed. She knelt by the hearth, where her Wisp had lowered his flames as he rested.
“Ashling,” she breathed. “I need your help. Will you light my way?”
The Faerie brightened and let out a curious chime.
She pressed a finger to her lips.
Ashling dimmed as he floated up to perch on her head. She moved softly around the pallet and inched open her clothing coffer to tug out a cloak. She wrapped it snug around her shoulders, followed by tugging on her gloves.
Avice side-stepped to where she stored her medical tools. The coffer creaked loudly as she opened it, making her grind her teeth. She glanced over her shoulder and was relieved to see both Trewoofe and Bramble remained asleep.
“Ashling,” she whispered, pointing down into the coffer.
The Wisp floated down and hovered above the collection of unusual items. Chewing her lip, Avice rested the lid against the wall and rummaged through the contents. She pulled out one of the crystals and a torn strip of silver blood-stained bandage. From instinct, she had kept one scrap unwashed. She brought it to her face and wrinkled her nose. It still reeked of that bizarre oil and iron, which was exactly what she had hoped for.
Avice placed them carefully onto the lid of the neighbouring coffer. She scrabbled around, squinting through Ashling’s light, and pulled out her belt. She slung it around her thick waist and shoved in her iron knife. She beckoned for Ashling to exit and he wafted out, landing neatly on the top of her head. She tucked the items under her arm, crept towards the door, and shoved her boots on over her stockinged feet.
A loud clunk echoed through the cottage as she turned the key in the lock. She snuck a peek towards the hearth and saw both of her boys still slept.
Avice sucked in a breath and went into the freezing night.
The cold stole the air from her lungs as she carefully closed the door behind her. It had not been this frigid when she relieved herself earlier in the evening. There was only one explanation. She stepped from under the eaves and looked up. A stream of snowflakes fluttered down to her.
She squinted through the gloom above. “Ashling.” She pointed up. “Can you show me?”
The Wisp chirped and bolted up, leaving a sparking trail in his wake. With a chime, a great illumination burst from his body, lighting up the entire garden.
“Just as I suspected,” she whispered to herself, breath misting as she spoke. “It has cracked.”
A spider web of lines spread from the pinnacle of the dome, each letting in a shower of snow. The weight of the blizzard piling on top had finally proven too much for the magic, and it had begun to fracture under the weight.
Avice waved at him. “Come down!”
Still bright, Ashling darted back. He pealed with alarm at what they had discovered.
“I know, darling, I know,” she soothed. “The Equinox ritual will bring Spring, it will fix it.”
He rang a deep tone.
She stuck out her chin. “It has to work.”
Avice turned to pluck Trewoofe’s flowers. They had crystalised in the plummeting temperature, even more beautiful with their icy sheen, frozen in their otherworldly beauty and pulsing with ancient magic. She felt the thrum, even through her gloves.
