Imago Ch7: The Price (Patreon)

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The King sits, perfectly poised, green eyes shimmering and fixed on L. For the moment, her pupils remain relaxed and comfortable. 

"It seems you and your cohort have been... industrious." The King says, turning to the brownie. "Madeline, be a gem and retrieve for Us a light refreshment. We believe we are in for a discussion.” 

The brownie bows low to the siamese, hurrying off without looking back. L shifts uneasily, making sure not to stand close enough for the King to fix all of them in a single glance. "Is there something we can help you with?"

The King's eyes flash gold and L's wrist burns. She gasps in pain, clapping a hand over the glamour-hidden mark. 

"You tell Us. Or have you forgotten your debt to the Market? We understand how flighty nymphs can be." 

"I haven't." L says, biting off the words. "I don't think it's possible for me to forget, your Majesty."

"And yet, here you are, plotting to leave without so much as a goodbye?" The King tilts her head unsympathetically, licking at her paw and swiping it over her ear. "You wound Us.” 

"I'm not trying to escape - "

“Just move beyond our grasp.”

“I… what?”

“You will remain here at the Glade." The King’s voice is firm and final.  No room for discussion.

L’s eyes harden.  "My house arrest is over. Nobody said anything about remaining here ever after. I owe you a favour, and I will repay it, but that's all."

"Do you take Us for a fool?" The King snaps. "Do you think We did not hear every word of your communion with that entity you're wearing right now? Do you think a single thing happens, a single word is said, in this Market that We are not privy to?" 

"We know you intend to go to the Wilds for an indeterminate amount of time, to seek out personal answers to personal questions. If you wish to send your friends to pursue your ‘lead’, however flimsy, then We will not stop you, but We will not tolerate your departure. Go to visit London, see your parents. Travel all of Annwyn if you like, but you are not to step one talon into Gwyllion. That land belongs to other powers, and We do not enjoy seeing Our mice scurry off." 

"What's so wrong with going? You've got me on a short leash." She waves her wrist, still smarting from the King's display. "I've got this hanging over my head, and on the matter of trustworthiness, of the two of us who's tried to kill who? Twice!"

"You speak to us of trust? Of good faith?"

The King’s pupils go black, fixing L in place with the weight of her fury. Her hackles go up as she leaps to the ground, circling to forestall sudden movements from Ian and Astraea.

"Pray tell, whatever was that first proposal you suggested? When We were content to merely take your head you were so full of ideas. Now it is We who are in need of a reminder."

 "L was coming to you for help and you - " Ian interjects. The King's gaze snaps to him, freezing him on the spot with a hiss. 

"Let the nymph defend herself, Mister Evans." 

L’s eyes drop away to the mist-wreathed floor. "I put myself under your protection." 


On Lyra's advice.


"For protection, I promised I'd serve you and the Market.  A punishment for Astraea, who could see me but never have me." L's voice - Lyra's voice - grows sharper. "And I did what you asked of me, I didn't disobey any of your orders - "

"Yes, LOOK how you punish her." The King spits, hopping on Astraea's lap and settling in. Astraea winces as the cat’s claws knead viciously at her thighs. "You call her friend, you call her ally. You share soft touches and sweet moments. You save her very life. We saw you fulfil your role but one time, upon Astraea's first meeting after her little incident transforming your body. How very quick you were to forgive." 


…Lyra had also said not to cross the King. 


"That's not - " L says, her wings stirring anxiously. How could she explain how things have changed? She could barely explain it to herself. " - I didn't promise not to speak with her!  Just to serve you instead! You never told me not to get involved when you set Cadogan on her!"

The King smiles, showing all of her teeth, an eerily human gesture. "You test Our magnanimity, little nymph. Are you saying that it was in fact, Our failing, for not including you in Our plannings and doings?" 

"How am I supposed to read your mi - "

"No. You had no need to read our mind, merely comprehend your role as punishment.” 

Madeline slips in through the door, carrying a tray with three glasses of wine and a saucer of milk. The King jerks her head towards her. 

“Would you say, in the presence of good Madeline, that you have played out your role as Astraea’s punishment?  Have you avenged Selkie?  Made satisfactory restitution for Madeline’s loss? Has Astraea suffered in equal measure as our brownie, the Glade, or Hedrick?" 

Madeline says nothing, caught off guard and frozen in place.  Astraea won’t look her, or anyone, in the eye. 

"...I..." L flicks a sorrowful look to Madeline. 
Her wings droop.

"Ah, yes. There it is. We knew you could get there, if you simply applied yourself."

Madeline’s expression hardens into an emotionless mask, her eyes unfocusing. She places the saucer of milk in front of the King, who declines her head and drinks.

"Your friends may go to the Wilds and investigate on your behalf. You will remain here until you have paid your debt to the Market.  Madeline, please extend the wine to Our guests. We would like to observe hospitality." 

Mechanically, Madeline passes out the glasses to Ian, Neith, and L. Astraea goes without.

"See?" The King says, licking her lips. "We are not such a tyrant. Had circumstances been different, we would have arbitrated as fiercely on your behalf as We do Selkie." 

L holds the glass in front of her, looking down at her reflection in the dark wine. She does not drink. 

"They need me there." L says, in a low voice. The King lets out an incredulous coughing sound.

"Are you attempting to move Us? Did We not recently attempt to decapitate you?" 

"I-isn’t it in everyone’s best interest if she’s successful, though?" Astraea offers, tentatively running a hand over the King's head. 

Ian nods. "Easier to pay off a debt when the rest are settled?" 

The King squints at Ian, lowering her head out of Astraea's touch. "Elaborate." 

"They’re saying I'll be more effective at returning your favour if I've got this other situation sorted." L takes a quick, bitter drink of her wine. "Unless you’d rather I jump at every shadow I come across while in your employ."

"We would rather We’d disembowelled you from the start."  The King hops off Astraea with a flick of her tail, crosses over to L and settles heavily on her feet.  "But fine. We will reverse our offer. You may go. Your friends must stay. How does that find you?"

"... n-not to complicate matters,” Astraea interjects. “but that really won't work." She tugs at her hair with both hands, staring at the floor. "If L goes to the Wilds without me, she'll be immediately taken into the Rookery and given out to one of the other dryads at the next Gleaning. Without me acting as her Keeper, she will have little access to anything. She’ll be trapped in the Wilds."

She swallows.  “That's… just how things work in the Grove."

There's a number of words that L makes a mental note to ask about later, but it isn't the moment.  "I need Astraea if this is going to have even a ghost of a chance."

"Then we are at an impasse. Shame. It appears you will not be going to the Wilds after all." The King says, sticking her leg straight up and beginning to clean, rocking against L's toes.

"We'll stay." Ian interjects. "Neith and I. We'll stay behind."

Neith jolts, suddenly paying far more attention than she had been. “Hold on, gumdrop - “ 

"I don't like it, but if it gets her where she wants…" Ian gives Astraea a searching look. "... and if she's safe."

"Wait, what?" L frowns. "Ian, I'm not going to leave you - " 

"I'll keep her safe." Astraea says, speaking over L. She places a hand over her chest. "I promise, Ian, I won't let anything happen to her. You'll see her again."

"That's not - " L protests, holding up her hands. "We're not leaving Ian behind!"

"Oh...?" The King purrs, pausing and lifting her head. "What an interesting response. And here We thought you so desperately needed to go. It sounds to Us as though your friends are willing to make concessions. Yet you are not?"

"I - " L falters. She can feel a pressure building slowly in her chest, squeezing around her lungs. "There's no reason not to bring Ian. I-I need him too. The plan was for all of us."

Ian smiles meaningfully at her. "Mate... I…” 

He shakes his head, looking back to the King. 

The King flicks her tail.  “We accept these terms." The room goes quiet. The King's tail flicks back and forth, a thin ridge of fur picking up along her spine as she stands. Her eyes pulse, freezing Neith and Ian in place.  “These two will serve as collateral."

"As what?" L chokes out. The King ignores her. 

"You may go to the Wilds, little nymph, with your dryad Keeper. Go and frolic, never return for all We care. But do so knowing that after seven days, We will take their heads as compensation. Debts repaid. Matters reconciled."

L stares at Ian, her wings going limp. If something happened to her out there...if she makes a mistake, or Lyra's past comes roaring up after her... 

"...this isn't his fault." She says, her voice beginning to break.

"How obtuse. Was it Selkie's fault that she died?" The King asks in a low tone. "Was it Madeline's fault that she lost her beloved? Did Hedrick or Trystan do something to incur the loss of their star performer? Lives are lost and losses born with little regard for cause and effect, save perhaps the occasional...common denominator."

The King returns her focus to L. Ian grimaces, wobbling on his feet, and Neith gasps for breath.  

"What might this common denominator in all this tragedy be, little nymph?  I wonder who can piece that riddle?”

“I… I-I…”  L's wings rise again. She can feel herself starting to crouch, as if she's about to spring.  She clutches at her head. The pressure in her chest squeezes, rises up to her throat. Something throbs behind her eyes. 


Her parents, worried at the kitchen table. The shopkeeper's screams.  Astraea lying in the rubble of the Market, Ian following her into the dark without a second thought. Madeline’s glower as she stands over the sealskin.  Selkie’s face, vanishing in a burst of light. 

Blood on her hands. 


"… then I'm not going." 

The room blurs.  She spins and flees, illusory talons shoving the curtain aside. Wings beat, scaffolding rattles, and the attic hatch slammins, loud enough to echo through the Glade.



L perches in the rafters of her room. The air feels heavy and smothering as a wool blanket. She's discarded the glamour, tossed the ensorcelled choker onto the cluttered vanity. Her abrupt arrival drew Neith II out to investigate, and now the alp-luachra inches along one of the beams, wheezing softly in sympathy as she cuddles up close. L draws a wing over them both, pressing an arm over her eyes. Occasionally, she shudders in a dry sob, but otherwise remains stone still.

A hollow knock on the hatch draws her attention. L watches. Considers.   Thinks about letting the silence drive her would-be visitor away.

"Who's there?"

"... can I come in?"

Ian.

L forces herself to sit up, despite a sudden spike of pain in her skull. Neith II thumps at her thigh.

 "...sure."

The hinges creak as the hatch lifts, and Ian hauls himself into the room. Balancing a steaming cup of tea, he moves gingerly to keep it from spilling.

"Mads put on the kettle."

He walks over to pass the mug up. L can’t help but take it; she can smell the peppermint all the way from the ceiling.  Delivery made, Ian flops down on her bed.  

"Think she was feelin' a bit... I dunno. Mixed.”  Ian’s eyes are clear and solemn as he looks up at her. “Worried for you."

"She shouldn't be." L says flatly, her legs dangling in the open air. "She should be furious.  She should hate me."

“Like Neith II hates you?”

The little worm chirps.

"Neith II started it. And I'm not even sure she counts as what she was before.  She probably doesn’t even remember."

Ian’s gaze drifts out the skylight.  It's what passes for midday in the market. Soon the aether will fade and the neon fungi will take its place.

"I think... there's a difference between what happened that day and murder. Maybe that's just making excuse. It's easy to let Astraea grow on you.”  

No response from L.   
Ian breathes out a laugh. 

“Did I tell you she had me sit down to watch the weather on the telly? She wanted me to explain the whole thing, top to bottom.  Took a solid hour, watchin it over and over again. And even so, the lil sprout, she still can't get her head around it. If you ask her today, she’ll talk like it's some esoteric magic." 

"Yeah. Sounds like her." L lets out a weak laugh, rubbing her arm. She smiles, but it takes too much effort, and she lets it drop away like a dead leaf. "It doesn't matter.  It doesn’t change what happened to Selkie. Or how Mads feels. Or how I’d feel if something happened to - " 

Her voice cuts out and she goes quiet.

“Hey. L.”

L tries to turn away, but has to give up. He won’t stop giving her that look. 

"That first night, when all this started. I think about that night a lot. If I'd gone. If I’d insisted.  Walked you home.  I think… if I’d done that, those snakes would have gotten me instead of that shopkeep.”

L’s face goes grey, and she pulls her legs up.  Her chin tucked, she peers over the top of her knees.  Ian casts her a soft smile.

“I want to think there's a version of that night where… none of that happens.  Not to you, me, or anyone.  A version of our life where I take a mate I've caught feelings for to dinner. 4am, nothin but the dregs, but that’s fine ‘cause the dregs includes this person I’m just mad for. We get fish and chips, a stack, loads of syrup, whatever they’ll serve us. I poke and prod and watch you squirm all night, just to get that smile out of you.  The one you only show every once in a while, open and unguarded. We'd sit and laugh and talk, and watch the world wake up. Then I'd walk you home and-"

He grins. 

"Well... who knows."

L lets out a choked sob.

“Mate?” Ian says, alarmed.

"It sounds nice."  she says, nodding, burying her face in the steam of the mug.  “It sounds really nice.”

Ian watches her shiver.  He’s about to say something when she speaks again.

"I think I knew, on some level, that dating was always off the table.  A normal life you know. Kids?  A family?  A person like me, I d-don’t get that, because that means letting someone close enough to know.  Finding someone capable of looking at this - ”  She extends her wing, her voice shaking. “ - and saying, yeah alright, why not? That’s what felt like fantasy.  I couldn’t even do the simplest things.  How could I hope for that?”

Her eyes cloud over with memory. 

"You probably would have proved that wrong, if I’d given you half a chance.  But I didn’t.   And now we're here.  And I’m different.  And everything’s - " 

L struggles to keep her voice under control, and she squeezes her hands into fists. 

"And if I go with Astraea, and you’re here, and things go wrong… I'm not putting you in harm's way like that. I'm the one the King's trying to get at. I'm the one dealing with Lyra's problems. If I have to wait a decade or a century or a millennia to settle this bloody debt first then fine. I'll do that. I’ll do anything that doesn’t risk me coming back to you smiling at me from the King's shelf. I can't face that. You..." 

L swallows, struggling to get the words out. "You deserve better than that."

"... do I not get a say?"

Ian pushes himself up and looks directly at her.   She feels so exposed it petrifies her, one word from crumbling to dust. She draws in a brittle, shallow breath.

"Of course you do. But it’s all… so impossible."

Ian lets out a little laugh.  “Always something, innit?"  He screws up his face, sliding out of the bed. Approaches her.   She almost feels like he’s settling to grab her, haul her down or throw her back in that salt circle, and she pulls back as her mind spins wildly.  But his face, god his face, it’s so serene she could laugh.

"...I-Ian?"

"L, would you go on a date with me?"

The question hits her sideways, so hard and so completely that for several long seconds she doesn’t even understand what he’s asked, and a few seconds more to make sure she hasn’t heard wrong.

“Mate, if you’re having a laugh-” She starts, baffled.

“I’m not.”

And he isn’t.  Nothing about his expression says anything like it.  Just that solemn look in his eyes. That warm smile.  Just Ian.  

“You’re serious?” 

“I am.”

She sputters. “Ian, it’s not the time - “ 

"Course it is.  It's never been the time. It's always been the time. Who bloody cares? We can decide if it's right or wrong right here, right now. For both of us.  For me it's a yes. What’s it for you?"

None of this feels real.  That fantasy possibility, so bright and neon dangerous, hand extended to spirit her away.  A touch that her whole life she knew, just knew, would turn her to seafoam.  But it’s the simplicity that keeps her here.  Keeps her whole and solid enough to stay with Ian in this question, in this moment. An echo of a choice she could have… maybe should have… made half a year ago, when the weather was warm, and life still made some semblance of sense.

A second chance at a first try.

Her wings flutter.  She tucks Neith II onto her shoulder and floats down just far enough to touch his hand. L's fingers tremble as she hooks around Ian's, and somewhere deep inside, something unclenches, and she can feel herself smile in that rare way he likes.

“Where are we going?”


 
THE LONG AWAITED FIRST DATE IS FINALLY HERE!!

It only took us a book and a quarter to get there :3
Better late than never I suppose.

Thanks for reading! Chapter 8: What We Take with Us  is set to post Friday May 24th at 12p EST!

See yall there,
And thanks for stopping by!

-Heart