Chapter 138: Squirt's Growth

After the discussions were over, Squirt escaped out to the hall, ducking herself into a darkened, shadowy corner to take a breath.

Berry had taken a message to Quint for things to prepare for Squirt’s departure, while, against Squirt’s better judgement, Dusty had left with Jul to gather the greenlings and announce the vague plan.

Letting them make the choice on whether or not they joined her in the former Riverlands.

Had only Berry or Dusty been in that room, she might have been able to override it, but fucking democracy had to get in the way.

She ignored the voice in her head that had just the other day been admiring the progress of the greenlings, the same voice that told her that Dusty and Berry had a point, and that they did deserve a say, that they deserved that choice.

Because that choice terrified her.

That choice meant involving them in danger normally reserved for herself alone, and she was frankly struggling to cope. These weren’t trained hunters like Qzi and Zhadin, nor were they powerhouse mages like Cirn or Jul, but the friends and family she had grown up with. The last few weeks of them in her life had been… precious. Terrifyingly so.

This wasn’t a gang run where she could outline every single possible contingency in a small area, mapping out every single back alley and hidden path to safety. This wasn’t even something necessary for them to survive, a chance for food or medicine that there was no other option to get.

This would be risking themselves for more than just their own survival.

Covering her face with her hands, she breathed, long and deep. A tingle of awareness preceded Zhadin’s arms exiting the shadows, wrapping around her frame. They said nothing, and neither did she, but she leaned into their hold, focusing on breathing.

When had their scent become so… soothing?

It smelled like shade. The cool touch of earth under a tree on a hot summer’s day, that relief from the heat of the sun, the soothing lull of shadows and safety.

She turned into Zhadin’s hold, surprising them both as her arms wrapped around their neck. They, in turn, melted against her, one arm wrapped around her back, the other tentatively petting her hair.

She wasn’t ready to admit what her fears were to them, but they didn’t need that from her. They never needed anything from her.

It was enough.

She pulled back, staring at their impassive face and darkened pale cheeks, realizing that they were blushing.

For just a moment, there was an urge in her to touch their cheek in a way that could only be interpreted as romantic.

But soothed as she was, her iron control returned. The announcement would happen. And as much as she hated to admit it, a contingency plan with other greenlings helping her in Riverlands would dramatically reduce the risk to the Capital.

Even if they owed the Capital fuck-all.

Meaning there was just one task left before addressing the greenlings. One only she could do.

Slapping her cheeks, she nodded at Zhadin, and they grinned brightly, slinking back into the shadows as if they’d never been there at all.

She still found herself staring at where they disappeared for a long moment before she squared her shoulders, turning, ready to face the world again.

Pakos, where’s Qzi and the redcaps?

It is mid-morning training, mother dearest. Despite the rain, it appears your redcap lover has taken his shirt off once again.

He’s not my lover.

Not yet.

Annoyingly accurate, especially with her quickly crumbling reservations. Piece by piece these fey were worming their way into her heart, and none had made more progress in that regard that Qzi.

Zhadin was a constant presence never far from her mind. The Pest was blinding enough to make her run, even if she was tempted to run towards him instead of away. Jezalin was a simmer of attraction building to a boil.

Qzi was… a surprise.

The more she allowed herself to know him, the more certain she became that he was as far from the Sia-bitch as Squirt herself.

She already trusted him professionally, but… she was starting to trust him with more. Like she already trusted Zhadin with more. More of herself than she’d given anyone in two decades. Longer, truthfully. And she had a feeling Jezalin and the Pest wouldn’t be that far behind.

It didn’t matter. None of that was important right now.

Shoving those thoughts away, she headed to the training grounds.

The training grounds were busy as usual. A study in coordinated chaos, there were always different groups moving as one, always offset of each other. Guard members running through morning drills. Instructors honing their own craft. Stragglers practicing in quiet corners, while young assistants trotted from one end of the yard to the other, offering water, weapons, or carrying messages as needed.

Over all of it was a layer of dust kicked up by the constant movement in the yard. The foreboding whitewashed wall of the keep towering over one side was caked in it, creating a natural gradient of dirt to white at the very top where on-duty Guard member stood watch.

Squirt spotted Qzi instantly, the redcaps having formed their own circle this time, separate from the Guard for once. They used live blades, not practice ones, two in the center dueling it out while the rest grinned and egged them on.

Qzi himself hummed, tossing a blade casually in his hand and leaning over a redcap’s bleeding chest. The woman had a hand pressed to the wound, her brow furrowed in heavy concentration, while Qzi murmured taunting instructions at her that seemed to equally fascinate and annoy her.

Teaching her how to heal.

Squirt approached but gave up quickly on going about unnoticed when Pakos, the traitor, trotted up and drew every eye in the goddamn training grounds to her. She scowled at the hound, who seemed to be making some kind of statement she didn’t care to question at that moment.

Anytime he’d done something like this, it was because he had some kind of ulterior motive, likely to do with the Whims themselves.

Believe it or not, you are still my number one, he passed her as he sidled up alongside her.

His belief in that statement was part of the reason she didn’t cuss him out. Whatever.

Instead, she squared her shoulders and approached the redcaps. It was late enough that mid-morning training was over, several larger groups looking like they were readying to head for lunch, and frankly Squirt was getting used to eyes on her, finding her knees trembling at the attention a little less every day.

All the redcaps turned, including the two currently in the process of cutting each other with knives as some kind of fucked up game between them, standing as close to at attention as the wild redcaps ever did.

Immediately, she was grateful for the hound’s backup, because it was frankly one of the only reasons she didn’t cower.

“Pricklebear!”

That was the other reason.

Shirtless and sweaty despite the fine autumn mist leaving everything just slightly damp, he ran at her with a grin, dropping to his knees and holding his arms out for a hug, a bright grin on his face.

She had never once hugged him like this, and she wasn’t about to start now. He might think she liked him rather than just tolerated him.

She ignored that he’d very much picked up on that fact at this point.

“Qzi.”

He shrugged, dropping his hands to his hips without losing his grin. “Need something, Pricklebear?”

She gave him a sharp nod. “We have a mission we need to leave on tomorrow morning.”

He blinked slowly, the eagerness fading for that somewhat eerie calm calculation that was who he actually was behind his bravado. “Big stuff?”

She nodded.

“Who?”

“You, me, Zhadin… possibly… others.” She choked the word out.

Qzi just gave a sharp nod. “Alright. Also, the gang wants to go fuck up some mercs who have been running their mouths. Can they?”

His eyes were entirely too eager at the possibility.

The author has not approved this copy. Their chapter is published on the NovelPhoenix site, where support reaches the writer.

Squirt’s eyes drifted behind him to the gang, realizing that the eagerness in Qzi’s eyes paled in comparison to the eagerness emanating off his gang.

Her gang.

Semantics. “Running their mouths in what way?”

Qzi beckoned her closer. Against what probably should have been her better judgement, she took a step forward, allowing him to lean in and murmur into her ear. His tone was flat. Calculating. “Someone’s trying to stir discontent and rebellion amongst the masses.”

Squirt’s blood went cold. “Does his lordship know?”

“Hm, I’m sure he’s got his sources…”

She pulled back and glared at Qzi.

He shrugged.

Grabbing his hand, she tugged him along behind her as she stalked out of the training grounds, ignoring the wolf-whistles and catcalls as he heartily waved goodbye to the other redcaps, calling out to them, “Keep knifing, I’ll be back when our boss is done with me.”

“Don’t stab him too hard, boss!”

“Nah, stab him as hard as you like, boss!”

She almost rolled her eyes at the double entendre, but her mind was fixated elsewhere.

I’ll keep the redcaps out of trouble while you play with your favorite, mother.

One day, she was skinning that damn hound.

Even still, she didn’t let go of Qzi’s hand, instead leading him through the Keep to the lord’s office.

When she got there, she hesitated.

The lord had looked so exhausted, and this…

Nope. She would not pity the man.

Acting before she could take it back, she knocked on the door.

A moment later, Kenna swung it open, her cheeks flushed with an indignant anger that softened at the sight of Squirt.

Squirt raised a brow.

Kenna sighed deeply, a wry, tired, but accepting smile on her lips.

Ah. No wonder she asked Jul to take Dusty on the rounds. It seemed like Kenna had taken the opportunity to scold his lordship, but since Kenna’s eyes were more annoyed than smug, Squirt could guess how obstinate he’d been.

Maybe she should turn back and not give him more work—

Kenna opened the door, allowing them both entrance, even if she eyed Qzi warily.

Qzi, for his part, gave her a cheeky grin, a happy flush to his cheeks even as he gazed curiously around.

Squirt clocked it, realizing both that she’d been holding his hand this entire time, him giving her that dopey smile, and that apparently, he’d never been in the lord’s office.

Though it looked nothing like it usually did.

The lord was seated at his desk, his exhaustion evident even if he leaned forward, his dual-colored eyes intent on Squirt.

No Dusty, so he was still out gathering the greenlings for a lunchtime address.

Qzi, meanwhile, had dropped to his knees next to Squirt, practically vibrating as she still clung to his hand.

She didn’t let go.

Giving Kenna a nod, she turned to Lord Everwinter. “Qzi says that there’s stirrings in town of rebellion.”

The lord let out a tired sigh but looked unsurprised. Squirt relaxed somewhat, somewhat grateful this wasn’t adding to his workload further.

His deep, rumbly voice was still strained and hoarse from exhaustion when he responded. “I have noticed. There are rumors that Lady Jezalin brought us already, rumors that are being spread throughout the kingdom. We’re having an easier time combatting them than most other territories.”

He then nodded to the redcap at her side. “But best to check. What rumors did he overhear?”

Squirt turned to Qzi.

He grinned at her. “That the Queen mated a greenling.” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

“Anything else?”

He shrugged. “Running them mouths about Athereon being a myth or that special privileges are due to the Queen’s magic pussy and not you being a hero.”

“I’m not a hero.”

“You sure, Pricklebear? Pretty sure the greenies would disagree.”

“Whatever. What’s the deal with her magic pussy, then? She’s hardly the first royal to give privileges to lovers.”

“Something something, trumped up greenling cunts, something something, I stabbed before I heard more.”

“You stabbed them?”

“Only a little. The gang wants to stab them more.”

Squirt lifted her eyes to the heavens. “Why on earth did you stab them?”

“I told you, they were running their mouth. Besides, the only magic pussy I care about is yours.”

Dryly, she muttered, “You would have stabbed them if they talked about my pussy being magic, too.”

“Damn straight.” He paused. “Unless you wanted them to talk about your pussy being magic.”

“Why would I want that?”

He shrugged, clearly not caring.

Squirt pinched her brow with her free hand. “Fine. Okay. So they’re mad that the Queen may have mated a greenling, and they think she’s giving us special privileges beyond our station because of that, so they’re all jealous?”

“Pretty much. Something something, lean winter, something something sacrifices to be made, something something Athereon mated the Queen—though that was a suggestion by Everwinter citizens."

Squirt should have guessed that would be their natural conclusion, even if it made no fucking sense. Exactly when would she have had the time to mate the fucking Queen?

Rather than think about it, she turned to the lord, asking pointedly, “Do these rumors match with what you already know?”

Kenna gave her a small smile. “You mating the Queen is new?”

Qzi shrugged again, the action causing Squirt and his hands to naturally swing between them, a playful edge to the innocent action. “Only a couple people said it. Most think that’s nonsense ‘cause she’s a hero, so any special treatment is because the Queen knows better than to piss off the Hunt.”

Lord Everwinter nodded gravely. “There are also rumors that the royals are hoarding winter supplies to dole out to favorites first. Rumors that as a newcomer to this realm, Queen Annabelle is not beholden to the bargains tied to the crown, can take more than she’s owed, more than can be spared.”

Squirt grimaced. This was the part of politics she hated. Rumors. Constant, unending, and capable of ruining hundreds or thousands of lives with a few whispers in the right ears.

Qzi squeezed her hand with a manic grin. “There’s another rumor, too, but that one’s more fun.”

To her surprise, Kenna snorted while the lord looked confused.

Squirt shot a glance to Qzi out of the corner of her eye, reading him in a heartbeat. “That one’s not important.”

“I said it was fun, not important.”

The lord, his normally unflappable patience volatile under duress, asked harshly, “What rumor?”

Qzi gave him a shit eating grin. “That Lord Everwinter is a redcap fiend and takes turns each night with our Pricklebear’s gang.”

Kenna couldn’t keep the giggle from escaping, though she did cover her hand over her mouth.

The lord stared, dumbfounded at the unrepentant redcap, realizing, quite clearly, that the redcaps had done absolutely fuck-all to refute the claim.

“That… I…” the lord cast a helpless glance Kenna’s way.

She gave him a half-hearted shrug and amused, tilted smile that was just a touch flirtatious.

The lord cleared his throat, leaning forward over his normally tidy desk, his hands hovering as if they didn’t know where to even begin straightening the mess that covered it. “I… see. And the other rumors?”

Squirt turned to Qzi, giving his hand a slight squeeze. The redcap’s dark red eyes studied her for a moment, the cap on his head tilting, like it was about to fall off even if she knew it never would. Not without him willing it to.

Her fingers still itched to right it.

She had a feeling that was the point.

A shift in the shadows had everyone turning as Zhadin formed, stepping out from under the coffee table set to the side. Their smile was stretched a little too wide, something Squirt thought might have just meant warm satisfaction as their eyes flickering to Squirt’s hand in Qzi’s, but they smoothed their expression out to turn to Lord Everwinter. “It is the same rumors, always from an outsider’s lips. The residents of Everwinter are quite determined that any favoritism for greenlings is due to the heroics of Athereon, justly rewarded to the first Champion of the Hunt in several millennia.”

Squirt opened her mouth to reflexively argue, then closed it.

Had it been that long since the Hunt named a champion? Champions weren’t subjects she spent much time thinking about or studying, being—until very recently—far out of her grasp.

Lord Everwinter nodded. “Yes. Queen Annabelle is likely going to make a similar declaration.” He leaned forward over his desk, the weight of the world on his shoulders, looking like he was struggling to stay awake.

Squirt could see why Kenna had stayed behind. The man needed a break. And a nap. Likely two, at least.

Also, what declaration—

He spoke again, this time directed at Squirt herself. “I have a… possible proposal on that front.”

Squirt stiffened.

He tapped his fingers on the table. “… is it possible that the Hunt’s favor extends to your brethren as well as yourself?”

Squirt… wasn’t sure.

She knew she wasn’t special. The Pest’s discovery a few weeks ago had made that clear, but…

But even with that, she had been given a seat at a table even Dusty couldn’t risk without express permission. She was allowed full access to the library, had been given every ridiculous concession she’d asked for, had three ridiculously powerful and one mildly sufficient fey openly courting her, had the Hunt’s mark tattooed on her forehead, a divine beast, divine magic…

All of that knowledge that she had been avoiding, clinging to the idea that she wasn’t special, slammed over her now.

Because she wanted to be special. She always had. It was why she’d fallen for the Sia-bitch so completely, why it had taken forty years to have the guts to leave. To think she was worth leaving.

“I…”

A tug came from her hand, drawing her eyes up to Qzi, his usual manic eyes replaced with the cool, deadly calm once more. His words weren’t a whispered confession, but a solemn promise. “I will always be your blade. I don’t give a shit about the others.”

The moment hung suspended between them. It hit her the same as an open declaration of love, kindness, and reassurance, all wrapped in one.

To him, she was special. Not because of compatibility or convenience, but because of who she was. A runt. A weakling.

A fighter.

It was an odd moment to have in front of two titled fey and a royal, and the emotional whiplash of the last few seconds had her throat tightening and eyes watering in a way she was unaccustomed to.

But it gave her strength all the same.

The bond between her and Pakos was warm and supportive, and she latched onto it, squeezing Qzi’s hand and drawing strength from him as she passed Pakos a question she was certain she knew the answer to.

Does the Hunt care for all greenlings equally? Or just me?

Pakos flooded her with warmth and love. She cares for you most of all.

I am her champion.

You are.

And the other greenlings?

So long as they choose the Wylds, the Wylds will choose them back.

A flood of emotions and memories hit her all at once. Not just memories of herself in the Wylds, the comfort of it, the way she relaxed, but little things. The favets. The jewelbirds. The song about the trees following greenlings. The little traditions greenlings had with no explanation, including the way they wiped themselves from all public record.

Like most fey, after the Cataclysm, greenlings had flocked to the sanctuary of the Capital, but…

They had all assumed that they’d always been in cities. In the large populations where they could disappear underfoot.

What if they hadn’t?

The realization was dizzying enough that she barely noticed Qzi tugging her closer, tucking her against his chest and under his chin. His sharp scent gave her comfort as she breathed him in, realizing, well and truly, that the scope of her entire journey went far beyond herself.

Her voice was a bare whisper as she finally answered the lord’s question. “Yes. It does.”

The words lingered in the air, the confession something that might have broken Squirt alone.

But she wasn’t alone.

She straightened, strength returning to her limbs first. Her words were firm, declarative, without her own insecurities holding her back. “Pakos says that so long as a greenling chooses the Wylds, the Wylds will choose them back.”

The lord gave a slow nod. He didn’t speak, and Squirt blinked up, glancing into his eyes and seeing intense complication there she couldn’t read.

Kenna kneeled on her other side, touching her shoulder gently and drawing her over to warm, violet eyes. “You’ll always be special to us. You’re pack, after all.”

Squirt wanted to choke. The emotion in her chest was certainly doing a good job of trying to. Instead, the firm certainty in Kenna’s eyes, combined with the hold from Qzi, gave her unexpected strength to smile. Actually smile. Not smirk. Not tease. Not grin. Just smile.

She straightened when the lord stood from his desk, stepping around the haphazardly scattered maps and measuring tools and game pieces used to plan for these kinds of things. He kneeled in front of Squirt, and she was irritated to notice that his exhaustion was even worse up close.

He held her eyes, his lord persona firmly in place, keeping a touch of emotional distance between them that Squirt was grateful for. “The Queen has suggested something that I find I am partial to. You alone have the full right to say no.”

Squirt waited, feeling oddly patient for once.

The smile on his lips was faint, almost buried under his beard, the slight ghost of something mischievous at play. “What would you say to sharing the name Athereon with every greenling in all of Fer’ich?”