Chapter Sixty: Decision Gone Wrong
Xaphile knelt in the springs, trying to decide what to do for what felt like hours, but in the end, he came to the conclusion that he simply didn't know. So, he chose to do the only thing he could: he would confront Ella and ask her about her feelings directly
After all, he had never been one for beating around the bush.
Getting to his feet, he got dressed and limped his way back towards the strange structure his companions were likely still sitting in. With his black hair still dripping and his flared black pants damp with water, he trudged into the building and looked around.
When he saw that she wasn't with the others, however, he paused.
Amelia glanced at him just as he frowned.
"Phil, you're soaking wet," she hesitantly noted. "Is something wrong?"
"Where's Ella?" he quietly asked, giving her a firm stare; everyone but Sinmir looked surprised by the question. "I need to discuss something with her."
"She went out a few minutes ago," the blonde man said, pointing at the door he'd just walked through; to his non-nosy credit, he hesitated before asking, "so, did you...?"
"I thought about it," Xaphile allowed, walking past the fire and tugging the other door open. "I've decided to take it seriously. That's why I need to chat with her."
"Good," Sinmir chuckled. "Go."
Before he left, he paused so he could look back. Gus had an eyebrow raised so high it blended in with his hairline, and Amelia... much to his chagrin, she was smiling. She obviously knew what was up, since when their eyes met, her smile widened.
He had to look away.
"Thanks," Xaphile muttered, casting Sinmir a glance. "For everything... particularly the hug."
The man grinned wolfishly and winked at him.
"You're welcome," he chuckled, then made a shooing motion. "Go on; the night's wasting."
"Does anyone want to tell me what's going on?" Gus demanded, just as the door fell shut behind him.
Limping across the ground, bare feet pressing against the loamy soil, he lifted his eyes.
The small island was chilly at night, much like the forests across the water, but the steam from the boiling lake kept him from all but the gentlest of shivers. He didn't see Ella when he first walked out.
Actually, he didn't see her anywhere, even when he walked a dozen yards away from the wooden dome and turned back to look at it.
Next to it was the tall rock the squirrels could glide off of.
He stared up at that rock, squinting at a speck of white that looked a little out of place.
Is that her? he wondered, feeling flabbergasted. She's standing on the rock?
His bad foot stung and throbbed as he walked around the house, around the hot springs, and over to the foot of the giant cliff that uncannily resembled Pride Rock from the Lion King.
He glanced at the uncovered lesions and winced since he hadn't taken the time to dress them properly after his bath. It took him almost fifteen minutes to get there, but he finally reached the base of it.
Sure enough, when he looked up, there she was... sitting at the top with her white gown billowing around. She was staring off at the forest across the lake, knees pulled up to her chin.
Opening his mouth, he tried calling her name, titling his face up to look at the rock.
But he choked.
Not physically, of course.
He choked mentally.
Pulse beating hard inside his neck, Xaphile tried calling her name three more times, but nothing came out.
He failed on each attempt, unable to make himself face her because suddenly he was nervous, so nervous that his tail curled and twisted itself into a knot before wrapping around his leg, fur fluffing out in agitation. He could feel the mane beneath his shirt bristle and rise when he tried a fourth time, but once again, he couldn't do it.
Mouth trembling, he walked away from the rock without saying a word, head bowed, biting his lip and trying not to scream in frustration since he had come out of the hot spring all gung-ho about confronting her head-on, but he couldn't.
He just couldn't do it, he was too afraid of what her answer would be and of what it would do to him so he scurried away from the rock like a coward.
He didn't bother looking where he was going until he felt a blast of steam on his face and realized he was only a few meters away from the boiling lake. He backed up on reflex, the heat making the water hard to approach, but when he got too far away he realized he was cold and it took a while to find the middle ground. When he did, though, he sat down and pulled his knees up to his chest, burying his face in them.
I'm dumb, he told himself. If she really did get a crush on you, so what? Get some confidence, you big baby! Grow a pair and talk to her! You have to get a clear, clean-cut answer! If you don't...
He trailed off.
What would he do with the information?
If it turned out that she didn't like him, things would probably pretty much stay the same.
Strained, but tolerable.
But if she was, in fact, somehow falling for him... he cringed, and no matter how hard he berated himself, he didn't get up since the thought scared him badly. He didn't want anyone to love him, or even like him, but that feeling was somehow on a whole different level with Ella Rochard: the thought didn't just stress him, it made him tremble from the inside out with anxiety to the point where he couldn't tell if he was going to puke, cry, or hyperventilate.
After many minutes of not moving and internally yelling at himself, he finally flopped backwards, ignoring all the little rocks that dug into his spine and just staring dumbly at the sky as his brain burnt itself out. His foot hurt, his head had begun to ache, and with a groan he buried his fingers in the pebbly ground.
Balling one into a fist, he held it up and let the pebbles inside trickle out onto the ground.
"What are you doing?"
Xaphile froze, heart flying up his throat, since he hadn't heard her walk up, although why that surprised him he couldn't say.
"Just... getting out for a bit?" he squeaked, staring at his hand through wide eyes.
"Why?"
"Inside was stuffy," he replied, dropping his arm so the crook of his elbow could cover his face. "Why are you out here?"
Ella didn't reply for a moment, and because he couldn't see her, it made him nervous.
"Inside was... stuffy."
"Oh," Xaphile mumbled, swallowing hard. "Okay."
There was silence for a second.
"Your foot is bleeding."
He glanced at it to find that some of the sores had opened and were leaking sullen trickles of blood onto the stones. He didn't really care, though, and sat up so he could put his face in his hands.
"I have to talk to you, Ella," he muttered, digging the heels of his palms into his eye sockets. He breathed deep for a few seconds, centering himself, vision swimming with stars. "Let me start off with saying what needs to be said. So... I haven't been fair to you. At all."
"What?" she asked, speaking in a tone that was so low in pitch that his hair stood on end. "What are you saying?"
"I'm saying," he rasped, feeling a painful lump rising in his throat, "that I'm sorry.
"Sorry for what?"
His head snapped up when he realized that her tone was harsh, unforgiving, and blunt, the very sound of it making the skin all across the back of his neck crawl like ants, biting and pinching without yield. He didn't turn around to watch her speak since listening on its own was hard enough.
"For everything," he lamely whispered.
"Excuse me?" she snorted. "You're apologizing, but you're not admitting to anything, so it's all empty words no matter how nice your voice makes them sound."
"I'm... sorry."
He heard something strike the stones behind him, probably the sound of her stomping a foot in frustration.
"What for?" she snarled. "You keep saying it but I want to know what you're sorry for. Given the way you've been acting, I doubt I could predict you any more than I could predict the roll of a dice, and since you don't want me to read your mind without permission, you need to tell me!"
He twisted around to look at her.
"I can't find the words."
She was standing a few feet away with her hands fisted at her sides. Her eyes were narrow and accusatory, and they were very hard to look at, but still, he found himself unable to look away.
"After everything you felt the need to say earlier," she said, soft lips curling, "I don't buy that at all."
"Well, you should," he snapped; it struck him, then, that the conversation was doing exactly what he didn't want it to do. He let out a sigh and fisted his hands in his hair. "Fuck. Fuck. This isn't happening the way I planned it at all!"
He heard her scoff.
"Looks like we have that in common!" she growled. "I gave up planning anything around you weeks ago, since all you seem to do is confuse me."
When he looked at her in shock, he noticed that her face had contorted into a mask of barely contained rage, but there was something else hidden in her expression... something that made him feel cold. The ice of it swept through him so slowly that his heart froze over beat by beat.
All he could do was stare at her
Her face scrunched up, and with her hair bristling, she let out a frustrated shriek and threw her hands into the air.
"Don't give me that look!" she shouted through clenched teeth. He could practically see her pulse beating wild in her throat, and when he didn't move, her eyes widened in fury. In a millisecond, she was kneeling in front of him with a spray of stones. Her hands clamped onto his upper arms, yanking him toward her so she could glare up close. "Quit giving me that look!"
"What look?" he asked in a hushed tone, trying to wrench away from her. "Ella, let--"
"You're looking at me with the only expression of yours that I hate seeing!" she shrieked, leaning in so close that their noses touched; he stared at her irises, the pale pink taking on a clearer, almost glass-like tinge. "That very look is the reason I thought you were a demon! Your eyes seem completely dead of all feeling, like you have no soul! Like... like you have no heart..."
He watched as her pupils dilated slightly, irises glimmering and glittering under his gaze.
He finally lowered his head.
"I have a heart," he said softly, face falling into a very tired expression. "It's just... not all there anymore."
One of her hands let him go long enough to grab his left horn and force his face back up, and he found those eyes boring into his from a distance of three inches.
"I want you to say it," she hissed. "Tell me why you're apologizing."
"Why?"
"Because I need to know that you really mean it," she said, letting out a 'humph' and glaring at him anew. "Now talk. If you really mean your apology, tell me what it is you're sorry for and then why you're sorry for it."
He floundered in the wake of her clear pink eyes until words spilled across his lips. It was hard to think with her face so near.
"I've been comparing you to someone you're not."
"And?" Ella muttered; her fingers tightened on his horn when he tried to look away. "Look at me when you speak to me."
"Ella," he hissed, ears pulling back and down towards his shoulders, "seriously, let-"
She wasn't having any lip out of him, obviously, because she lifted her hand and grabbed his other horn, using her leverage to jerk his head back and forth.
"Don't change the subject!" she barked. "Tell me!"
"I've made constant jabs at you," he squeaked, dizzied, "and purposely tried to hurt you."
"Now you're getting it," Ella said, finally letting his head go; when she stood up and pulled him to his feet, he felt like he would pass out since blackness swam at the edges of his vision. "Now, say you're sorry for it all."
"I'm sorry!" he blurted, but her expectant gaze made him keep going. "I'm sorry for being bipolar and stupid, and I'm sorry for not listening to you. I will listen to you next time, I promise I will. Most of all, I'm sorry for treating you like you don't matter when you do."
There came, then, a very pregnant pause.
The entire situation felt oddly surreal, like his brain had been submerged underwater and had somehow fallen completely within her power.
Her behavior had pulled things out of him he didn't know he'd had.
He felt... oddly submissive in the face of her wrath.
They stared at each other, breath hissing in his chest because he was breathing hard, so hard, and Ella just stared at him like she could see everything he was feeling, but then, her eyes rippled and a shocking sight presented itself.
She smiled.
And not just any smile, it was the same smile he'd grown up seeing... the one that lit up her eyes from the inside like a Christmas tree. There was a bit of haughtiness and definitely a slightly different twist to the expression, laced as it was with her cocky attitude, but it was definitely her smile.
"I matter," Ella said slowly, but it wasn't a question; her face dipped so close to his own that he could practically taste her, and with every word he felt her sweet breath fan across his mouth in a wave of pure heat. "That's right. I matter, Xaphile. Don't ever forget it... am I clear?"
She let him go, then, and stood up.
His knees quaked as he ogled her, stunned and horrified, with embarrassment creeping up his chest and neck and cheeks and ears in a wave of red flush.
The only thing he could think as she turned away was... wait... what?
What the hell just happened? he wondered, feeling stunned and confused. What the fuck?
Ella looked at him over her shoulder, eyes flicking to his foot with a lazy smile. The sudden turnaround in her emotional palette left him even more confused. How had he gone from wanting to ask her about her true feelings to groveling in the god damn dirt?!
"Go bind up your foot," she quietly commanded, and he stared at her, flabbergasted, as she started walking back toward the house over the stones.
His eyes stayed glued between her shoulder blades, frustration making his mouth work as he struggled with a reaction. His pride smarted horribly when he realized how cowardly he had been acting for the past five minutes. He did not like it, it was almost like her attitude had turned him into some sort of dog, and the thought made his blood boil.
He was going to yell at her, to make her turn around, but something made him stop and think.
He'd meant his apology, even if that wasn't initially why he had approached her, so after some careful thinking and mental cursing, he decided to be the bigger person and let it go, following her into the house.
Everyone turned when he opened the door and shut it behind him.
He gave the guys, including Sinmir - who was sitting between Gus and Vrael with a knowing smirk on his face - a small wave. Amelia was frying something that smelled good in a pan over the fire, face screwed up in concentration as she used a metal fork to stir it.
Xaphile slowly limped across the room.
"Everything patched up between you two?" Sinmir asked, quirking an eyebrow. "How'd it go?"
"Well..." Xaphile muttered, and he couldn't help but glance at Ella when he said, "I apologized.
She stared into the fire, full lips quirking as if at some private joke, but he tried not to look at her again when he crossed the room and approached the large crate by the other door.
"How did what go?" Gus griped, leaning forward with a frown before casting a suspicious glance at Sinmir. "What is going on here? You wouldn't tell me a thing while they were gone!"
"That's because it's none of your business," the prince coldly retorted. "You have yet to patch things up with the lad yourself."
Gus scowled and pulled back, jade green eyes tracking Xaphile's progress to the crate.
"Do you know what's in that?" Vrael asked, curious; dusting his hands off, the halfling got up to join him. "I've been wondering since your friend brought it in here."
The crate didn't appear to have any hinges on its sides, and it was made of thick planks of silver wood that had been tarred so close together with sap that it looked nearly water tight.
"She said it had my medicine in it, for the cough and my foot and stuff," Xaphile told him, pulling off the top of the crate with the help of his claws. He took the lid and leaned it against the box's side, then stood on the tips of his toes and peered in. "Whoa."
"What?"
"Dude," Xaphile muttered, "they also gave us a lot of fruit."
"Fruit?!" Vrael exclaimed, eyes lighting up. "Wonderful! Pass it here and we'll share it with the others for midnight lunch!"
"Sure thing," Xaphile sighed, gripping the edge and hefting himself over the tip of the box. "Oof! Give me a second."
Half in and half out, his tail flicked out and curled around Vrael's neck, much to the boy's surprise. Floundering slightly, Xaphile gripped a mesh sack of what appeared to be melons the size of his fist.
"You all right?" Vrael wheezed. "Your tail is choking me, Phil."
"Sorry," he heaved, kicking his legs a bit. "Grab it with your hands so it doesn't snap around and hit you in the face or something. Hell, use it to pull me back out, too, if you can."
Vrael did as he asked, and with a gentle but helpful tug on his tail, he managed to drag the melons out with his friend's help.
He examined the fruit with a frown, since they were unlike anything he'd seen on Earth.
The melons had pale pink rinds and swirling ridges with black polkadot markings all over it. There were banana-ish things, too, though they had purple peels, and there were a variety of vegetables, including potatoes.
Beneath the fruit layer, even pots and pans of lightweight metal had made it into the crate, and those things were resting on top of folded blankets, furs, strange loincloths, and towels.
Nestled in the blankets and beneath the pots, however, was a large wooden box polished to a high gleam, and he recognized it as a twin to the one Karla had been digging into when she'd treated him back in the city.
Several heaves and a few tugs later, he passed the box down to Vrael, then pushed himself out.
"That was a work-out," Xaphile muttered, rubbing his chest. "We got everything, though."
"Oh! Are those Potatoes?!" Amelia asked when she saw them. "Yay! Hand me one of those pots and I can make us some stew!"
Vrael happily carried the pots and food over before he sat down, long ears bobbing.
After a few moments, Sinmir and Gus arranged the cushions and blankets from the pile in the corner into a circle around the fire, allowing everyone a comfortable place to sit.
"It's a shame you don't like to cook, Amelia," Vrael noted, watching as she began to dice and peel things with fast hands. "You're really good at it."
"It's just a lengthy process, and it has no room for creative imagination," she explained as the rest of them sat down. "I dislike it so much because it's rather... how should I put this in a way that isn't rude? Erm... it's rather uninteresting, especially when compared with magic."
"Well, Phil can cook," Gus grumbled, shooting him a look. "Why doesn't he take over?"
"Because nobody asked," Xaphile bluntly retorted. "I wouldn't have said no if they had."
"Cooking is for girls," Vrael noted, frowning at him. "Pa always told me that it's a woman's job."
Xaphile's eyebrow twitched.
"Well, I happen to enjoy cooking, and since I'm obviously not a girl, you can put that assumption to bed," he stiffly explained, keeping his face blank. "Cooking is for everyone."
Vrael's eyes twinkled mischievously and he leaned forward.
"You may not be a girl," he joked, waggling his eyebrows, "but with all that hair, and such a thin face, you certainly could pass off as one. Your locks are even longer than Amelia's, after all."
A vein bulged in Xaphile's forehead.
"Oh, so I look like a girl now, do I?" he asked, slowly rising to his feet. "Really, Vrael?"
"Yeah, pretty much. You do kind of look like a girl."
Xaphile's eyes glittered dangerously for a few moments, but then he lifted his arm and tucked his hand beneath his tresses, right at the base of his neck.
Without tearing his gaze from Vrael's, he purposely swung his head and tossed his glossy black hair into the air; it flew out behind him in a graceful arc, gleaming like silk in the firelight before wildly cascading back down around his body in rippling tendrils that slid across his back like water.
His attempt at showing off a little took everyone by surprise, but it was definitely worth it.
His hair was his only bragging right, after all.
"Need I remind you that you're actually my bitch right now?" he quietly deadpanned, making Vrael's jaw drop. "If I'm girly, what does that make you?"
Sinmir instantly let out a booming belly laugh, cracking the fuck up, and even Gus gave a reluctant smirk. The girls merely shared a glance and rolled their eyes.
"That's pretty mean," Vrael weakly chuckled, "but you do have a point."
"I'm kidding, Vrael. Don't take it too seriously. After all, girly-looking or not, I'm still tougher than you."
"Is that a challenge?"
"I don't know," Xaphile drawled, quirking an eyebrow. "Is it?"
Vrael gave him a sly expression, but his eyes popped open wide in surprise when the halfling grabbed him by the arm and pulled him down with a laugh.
"How about we find out?! I'm older, so I figure I'm the one who will win!"
"Ugh, get off me, dude!"
Instead of listening, Vrael actually forced him down on his back, straddled his waist, and pinned him down by the wrists.
"No way!" he said simply, giving a smug little smirk. "You challenged me. Live it down."
Xaphile's lips curled.
"You really want to go, Vrael?"
"Hit me with your best shot," the halfling boy chuckled, grinning at him with playful eyes. "That is, if your maidenly little arse can handle such strenuous activity."
"Well, okay... but you're the one who asked for it. Don't get upset when you lose."
"I'd like to see this," Sinmir agreed, leaning forward with a gleam in his eyes. "Have at it, boys!"
Xaphile took a deep breath and started to resist. Vrael's brown eyes popped open wide in alarm when his arm muscles bulged because within only a matter of seconds he muscled his way into an upright position and turned the tables. Sinmir grinned at the display and Gus rolled his eyes.
"Well," the latter of the two men dryly noted, watching the ensuing struggle, "I can't say I'm surprised by this."
Everyone winced when Xaphile roughly tackled Vrael around the middle and pinned him down on his back. The halfling struggled against his grip and stared at him with large brown eyes when he straddled his stomach, lion-like tail flitting back and forth, long hair sliding to either side of his face like ebony curtains.
"Gods above, Phil!" Vrael squeaked, struggling against the tight grip he had on his wrists. "You're stronger than I thought!"
"I warned you," Xaphile deadpanned, waggling his eyebrows. "I'm actually quite a bit stronger than you."
"Liiiies!" Vrael hissed, bucking wildly in order to get him off. "I'm stronger than... yooou!"
"Don't delude yourself," Xaphile teased. "Bow before the power of my workout sessions!"
He locked his wrists down against the floor more securely, watching in satisfaction as Vrael struggled to move.
"No... way!" the boy squeaked, ears pulling down towards his shoulders as he struggled to raise his right arm. "Never!"
Xaphile chuckled and tightened his grip just a little bit more, but instead of giving up, his friend started kicking his legs, flinging his head back and forth.
"Ow! Ow! Phil, my wrists! Stop! You're hurting me!"
Xaphile's heart flew up his throat and with his tail fluffing out, he let go of the boy's arms and jumped off his body completely.
"I-I'm sorry," he stammered, "I didn't mean to."
He watched in apprehension as Vrael sat up and rub his wrists, but instead of looking angry, the boy gave him an admiring glance.
"Don't worry, I'm fine," he panted, rapidly shaking his head. "I'm just amazed by how strong you are! You're far tougher than you look."
"I just have a lot of upper body strength," Xaphile explained, giving an awkward shrug. "I'd take brains over brawn any day."
He wasn't used to getting compliments, so they always made him a bit gawky and uncomfortable.
"That was an amusing romp, to be sure," Gus noted, eyeing them. "Boys your age tend to enjoy that sort of thing... I see other lads in Chisago wrestling and tumbling all the time."
"True," Amelia agreed, tapping her lip. "Particularly Angelo's son, Michael. He was always asking me to come and have fun before Xaphile turned up in town, but I was never really interested in watching the village boys get all dirty and sweaty. I found the idea to be rather... gross, if I'm to be honest."
"Is that so?" Sinmir drawled, casting her an amused glance. "So, you're not into rough men who like to get dirty, then?"
The suggestiveness was so profound that not even someone as naive as Amelia could miss it, but instead of blushing or displaying any awkwardness, she merely smiled warmly.
"All men are a little rough in their own ways, Sinmir," she murmured, lifting her eyes and pushing her glasses up her nose. "I'm more into men who are... passionate, and tender towards their loved ones. I think my ideal husband would be one who would know that showing his deepest feelings to someone isn't a weakness. Seeing a man's tears is rare, but beyond moving."
Vrael blinked rapidly, then his face went blank and he cast a quick glance at Xaphile, who was frowning and trying to pull out something that had gotten clumped in the fur on his tail.
Eventually, Amelia finished cooking and they ate lunch, which tasted like wonder made edible, but after Xaphile was finished eating, he reached for the wooden medicine box at his side and opened it.
Inside was a small clay pot full of a pungent brown paste, a packet of tea leaves tied up with string, a little blue jar full of leaf-filled nuts floating in what appeared to be honey, and rolls of what looked like linen bandages.
There were also a few square white cloths, and although he wasn't sure, he assumed he was supposed to use those to put on the salve.
"I'll be back in a bit," he murmured, standing up with the box held tight under his arm. "Thanks for the meal, Amelia. It was delicious."
"You're welcome," she chirped, lifting her eyes. "Where are you going?"
"Out," Xaphile muttered, jerking his head toward the door. "I have a few things I need to do."
He only made it two steps away when Ella spoke.
"What's in the box?" she asked, voice low and husky. "What are these things you need to do?"
A deep breath made his throat ache, but he turned around.
"Medicine," he said, trying not to look at the smirk that blossomed across her features as he knelt, opened the box, and took out the packet of tea leaves. "Amelia, could you brew these? I think they're for tea. I'm supposed to drink it for my throat."
"Of course," she said, taking the packet. "It'll be ready by the time you get back, hopefully."
When she smiled, he excused himself, keeping his eyes as far away from Ella as possible.
After he went outside, he set up shop beside the hot spring, laying out the bandages, salve, nuts, and cloths so he could easily get to them, then he set himself down and unscrewed the pill jar, dipping his fingers into the honey so he could extract one gooey golden leaf-filled nut.
The honey made it all go down smooth, and he made sure no one was watching when he licked the excess honey from his claws.
He wondered how the faeries had gotten things as mundane as honey. Did they use magic? Did they have bee farms? Or did they scoop it right out of a hive?
He didn't know.
Pondering it to keep his mind off of his aches, he started on his foot, but because it was dusty and bloody from walking around outside, he figured he should wash it first. He did so with care, dunking his whole leg in the hot springs, and after his limb was clean and the sores were free of dirt, he cracked his knuckles.
Taking a deep breath, he used one of the small white cloths to scoop up some of the paste in the second jar and spread it over the sores on his foot. When they were all coated in deliciously cool and tingly balm, he left the smear-cloth on top of the worst of them and took out the bandages.
That was when he realized that he was never going to become a doctor.
Ever.
His claws were too long and kept getting in the way, and because he couldn't get the bandages to stay in place, they slipped and slid over his skin, clinging to the salve and then smearing it off of his sores when he pulled too hard in any direction.
Eventually he managed to wrestle the bandages into staying still, but they looked horribly messy and they were stained with brown salve and rusty blood.
His inexperienced motions had even managed to open more than one of his wounds.
"Damn it," he griped when he was finished. "These nails are more annoying than helpful when it comes to things that require precision."
Packing everything up, he huffed and returned to the others.
When he opened the door to the big room, he heard the unmistakable whistle of steam.
Amelia had put a kettle over the fire, and as he walked he saw her pouring the boiling water over a strainer filled with leaves.
It streamed through them and into a mug below, which she handed to him once he was sitting down.
Her eyes traveled to his foot.
"Um, Phil," she murmured, eyebrows hitching high, "did you need help with that?"
He took a sullen sip of his tea.
It tasted sweet, but there was a strict bitterness hiding underneath that made his toes curl even as his throat went slightly numb.
"I managed," he said between hot sips. "Somehow."
"Ask one of us next time. It will go easier," Amelia scolded, then paused before adding, "and you might not waste as much salve."
He stuck his tongue out at her in retaliation.
"I tried," he grumbled. "Ever hear that practice makes perfect?"
Amelia giggled and returned to what she'd been doing, but when he looked at Ella after trying for so long to ignore her, he saw that she was staring at him.
After catching his eye, she glanced at his foot, smirked, and let out a low laugh that made his toes curl and caused his claws to gouge the floor beneath his feet.
The rest of the night passed quietly, because there simply wasn't much to do.
Sinmir had a couple of dice in his pack, and everyone aside from Ella and Xaphile played some sort of strange betting game until they got bored.
After that, they played another game with a strange pack of cards that the prince had also brought.
Gus was delighted by the cards, and won about six rounds of the next game they played, all in a row. Then they played a game that was remarkably similar to Slap jack, which Amelia nervously joined in on.
She continuously lost thanks to her total lack of reflexes, though, and the one time she managed to get a good slap in, Sinmir got over-zealous and slapped down on her hand so hard that she yelped.
"Sorry, sorry!" he burbled, face contorting into an apologetic mask. "Got a little rough there."
"I am fine! Let us all just play on," she sweetly said, smiling at him; after that, she mysteriously kept winning. This went on for an hour, with Sinmir and the other guys making totally over-exaggerated faces of disappointment whenever she won. Eventually Amelia sighed, pouting a bit. "Letting me win isn't much fun, you know."
"Letting you win?" Gus scoffed, feigning surprise. "I would never do that, Amelia!"
"I know you better than you think, Gus," she stated softly, shuffling the cards before handing them back to Sinmir. "Anyway, I think the thrill of the game was lost on me a few rounds ago."
Sinmir's façade crumpled first.
"Aye," he sighed. "It's not fun without a challenge. No offense."
"None taken. I'm a weakling when it comes to physical things," she giggled, flopping back against her furry cushion and sighing up at the ceiling. "Does anyone know a good song?"
"You want to hear a song?" Gus snorted, frowning at her before he cast a glance at Xaphile, who was lying curled up in front of the fire, lazily watching all of them with half-lidded eyes. "The only one here with a decent voice has an injured throat."
"True," Amelia murmured, rolling over on her side and propping her head in her hand. "I still desire to listen to some music, though. I have had an odd craving for it ever since I heard Phil sing some of his world's ballads. They're incredibly unique and beautiful."
"I'll say," Vrael agreed, leaning forward with a grin. "Those ballads are unlike anything I've ever heard! Some of them are like listening to prayers from the heart, but in the form of songs. Passion and strength."
Gus nodded sagely, but Sinmir looked intrigued.
"I'm afraid you've caught my interest," the prince noted, giving them all an intrigued glance. "Perchance you might share with me one such song?"
Xaphile's eyes shifted and he was about to sit up, but Ella lifted a hand.
"No need, Phil," she retorted, making the man frown. "I remember every single ballad you've sung for us."
Amelia stiffened and glanced at her in surprise, eyes growing huge.
"Ella..." she breathed, looking stunned beyond measure. "Wait... are you saying you'll..."
"Yes. I am."
When Amelia's eyes shone and watered slightly, she pushed her glasses up and rubbed them fiercely before sniffing and regarding her with the biggest grin any of them had ever seen.
When Ella started tapping her foot and stared off into space, Xaphile blinked and lifted his head, left ear flicking as he glanced at her in surprise.
Then, she opened her mouth...
"You're so hypnotizing..." she trilled, "could you be a devil? Could you be an angel? Your touch... magnetizing. Feels like I am floating, leaves my body glowing..."
He slowly sat up, staring at her with shivers running down his spine as she sang through the first verses of ET with a soprano so clear and beautiful it could have cracked a crystal wineglass.
Mouth hanging open in shock, he gaped at her.
She was singing pitch perfect, word for word, a song she'd only ever heard once.
It was a talent not even he had.
And her voice, good Lord...
Clearer than crystal, high pitched, and powerful.
Like the voice of a sea siren.
Like his Ella...
A pang of heartache hit him, but as she sang, an odd temptation still somehow came over him and before he could let himself think about it, he began to harmonize with her around the second half of the song.
Her eyes flashed and she glanced at him with a startled expression when he hit a different set of notes that worked with her own, but she didn't stop singing.
Doing this stung his throat and his voice was really, really hoarse, but he held back on getting loud and somehow managed not to choke on himself.
At the very least, he kept pitch.
By the time they finished, Amelia's jaw was hanging loose, Vrael looked stunned, Gus was clapping, and Sinmir was grinning widely.
"Now that," the prince muttered, nodding proudly, "that was a sight that I'm sure even the nobles back home would pay to see. I've never heard the like."
"Would you like to hear more?" Xaphile rasped. "Sore throat or not, if we go for gentle songs, I'm sure I could pull through for a little while."
"Of course!" Amelia squeaked. "I would love to hear you and Ella singing together like that! I've never heard two people singing together in such manner!"
With a blink, he glanced at Ella.
"Somewhere over the rainbow," he murmured. "Do you remember the words?"
"The one about flying over the rainbow like blue birds?" she asked, brows raising. "Indeed. In fact, out of all the ones I've heard from you, that one is actually my favorite."
When he waved her on, she furrowed her brows and started singing the first verse, but he quickly joined in on the second.
Since music was, apparently, the only reprieve from boredom in sight, they all spent the rest of the evening singing songs.
Vrael got really into it, clapping along, and even singing a few of the ones he was familiar with; Gus merely listened in with a contented expression.
Amelia was very into it in the beginning, but she actually grew tired and took a nap at one point.
How she fell asleep with so much background noise was anyone's guess.
After a few more songs caused Xaphile's throat to give in, however, they decided it was time to go to bed, and it was then that they realized that they'd found themselves in an odd predicament.
"I am not sleeping in the middle," Vrael said, staring at the pile of bedding like it was a monster. "I'm going to be on the edge and that's final."
"I would like to be on the edge, please," Amelia sleepily commented.
"Why don't we all just use our sleeping bags?" Xaphile asked, looking confused. "Seems easier."
"Aside from your bag and belingings, those damn faeries took everything, including our weapons and our sleeping rolls," Sinmir muttered. "Ella only has her daggers because they were hidden beneath her cloak."
Xaphile frowned.
The bedding the faery women had provided was tied down to one spot, so basically they had a giant furry mattress with a bunch of blankets on it in piles.
And unfortunately, unless they chose to sleep on the mattress, they'd end up with cricks in their necks.
Of course, that meant they'd all have to sleep together in one giant dog pile, which was probably what the Queens of the Sky had expected them to want to do.
"I'd like the edge," Amelia mumbled again, sleepily swaying back and forth. "I'm already uncomfortable as at is sleeping in the same bed as a group of men."
"I think Phil should be in the middle," Sinmir interjected; he was studying the pile of bedding with a critical eye. "If those faeries were to come in and see you sleeping on the edge like an outcast, they might get suspicious."
Xaphile's stomach flipped, and he was suddenly a little nervous. He'd been told once by Ella Richardson during the multitude of times that he'd fallen asleep beside her that he was a notorious sleep-cuddler.
He could apparently cling to people like human teddy bears for hours if what she'd said was true.
Not that she'd minded, of course... she had once said she actually loved his sleep antics, but sleep-cuddling someone else wasn't something he wanted to do.
"Well, I guess it's settled," he mumbled, fidgeting a little. "I get middle."
"Edge," Gus muttered. "I'll be taking the edge opposite Amelia."
"I guess we're bed fellows," Sinmir chuckled, elbowing him. "I'll be lying next to you, I guess."
"Just try not to snore in my ear," Gus sighed, giving him a rather dark look. "You're very loud."
"I'll sleep between Xaphile and Sinmir, then," Vrael said, scratching his long ear. "It'd make me feel more than a little uncomfortable trying to fall asleep beside a girl I don't know very well."
"Where will you sleep, Ella?" Amelia asked, squinting at the pale girl; her glasses had been removed, so she obviously couldn't see very well. "Beside me?"
"I don't plan on sleeping in here," Ella snorted, tossing her hair before turning away. "I'll take my chances outdoors."
"We do need a lookout for when the faeries return," Vrael agreed, nodding as she walked out of the house and disappeared. "Phil will sleep between Amelia and I."
"Joy," Xaphile muttered, shrugging before he took his hoodie off; Amelia stiffened, but relaxed when he left his pants on. "Well, I'm heading to bed. It's been a long night."
"We should try to sleep as much as possible, since no matter what we do we'll be having too little of it," she said, rubbing her eyes. "The faeries most likely do things on a normal schedule, which means we'll be up and awake during the day again."
Xaphile lay down on the furs, and just like that, it was as if heaven had assaulted him. He pulled back for a moment and stretched like a cat, flexing his clawed hands with a yawn.
He felt oddly satisfied when his back cracked and his tail gave a contented slash through the air when he flopped back down.
His hair parted as he lay there on his stomach, head propped on folded arms.
Not long after, the fire was doused and everyone got settled in. Warmth pressed in on him from both sides, and before he could stop it, his tail curled around something.
"Phil," Vrael grumbled. "Your tail."
"Thing has a mind of its own sometimes," he sleepily muttered, forcing the stupid thing to release him. "Sorry. Goodnight everyone."
"Night," Sinmir grunted.
Nobody else responded.
However, as he was falling asleep, he unexpectedly felt a gentle hand touch his back.
His half-asleep mind followed the sensation of smooth, warm fingers trailing across the deep grooves, bumps, and gouges in his pale skin without processing what was happening. Then a hand combed through the fur along his spine, making his tail flick again and his body shiver.
The sensation felt nice, so he simply dealt with it.
"I'm sorry for not stopping her," someone whispered sadly. "Every time I see these scars, I wish I could turn back time just so I could speak out and save you."
His ear flicked, mind roused back into full wakefulness.
Warm with the lull of sleepiness, he opened his eyes and stared at the floor without speaking as Amelia's hand lightly rested between his shoulder blades.
Her fingers gently fisted in his fur.
"I promise," she groggily mumbled. "From here on out, no more harm will befall you. Just live happily... that's all we really want. Hopefully, when everything settles down, there will come a day when you see that we all love you, Sh... Shaphile..."
His eyes widened with a jolt.
As if nothing had happened, she continued petting him gently for a few minutes, then rolled over, but after hearing that, he couldn't really fall asleep.
It was the first time Amelia had ever attempted to call him by his full first name.