Page 139 of Sweetling
Wake up tomorrow,she whispered to her fae and to the magic that coursed through him.
When Molly woke, it was to find Allarion much the same. He looked as serene as he usually did in his long sleeps, so that at least was a little relief. No pain marred his brow, and the roots continued to glow.
She shook the dew off the coverlets as Bellarand disappeared between the trees to relieve himself. When he returned, Molly took her turn, picking berries to stave off the worst of her hunger and thirst along the way.
The morning began cloudy with a mild breeze that cut through her coat. Molly huddled back under the coverlet before tucking Allarion’s tighter to him.
As she did, she noticed that the roots were slowly sliding back into the earth.
A noise of alarm caught in her throat. “Wait!” She tried to pull them back to cover him, but the roots kept retreating into the dirt.
The forest has done all it can.
Molly couldn’t help her whimper as the roots disappeared entirely. She stared at Allarion’s face, looking for any sign, but he remained still. Serene but still.
She covered him again, tucking him in so he wouldn’t get cold.
Something close to an hour passed, and Molly couldn’t contain her worry anymore.
“If the forest is done, shouldn’t he wake up?”
Healing takes time,Bellarand reminded her. His calm, wise tone was starting to irritate her.But…talking to him couldn’t hurt.
Molly couldn’t think of anything to say—everything felt trite or unimportant. So, Molly began to sing. She sang him each of her favorite ballads and then all of his favorite songs. She sang him everything she knew except the dirges because they were too sad. Tears sometimes accompanied her singing, and sometimes Bellarand bobbed his head although he denied it, yet as the sun rose behind the clouds, Molly sang.
Her throat rubbed raw and her legs fell numb sitting there singing, but she didn’t care.
She sang the morning away, and when she began the final song she knew, a low thrumming harmonized with her voice.
Molly yelped, the sound one of profound, desperate hope.
Allarion’s brows wrinkled. “Why did you stop?” he muttered.
She crumpled at his side, hot tears washing her face and his as she sobbed with relief. Not daring to throw herself atop him, she wrapped him in her arms and pressed her damp face to his.
Molly sobbed his name and other nonsense, all her worry and relief and love pouring out of her. Arms came around her, pulling her down into his body. She resisted a moment, thinking of his healing wounds, but after another, she couldn’t deny either of them.
“You’re awake, you’re awake, you’re awake!”
A velveteen muzzle ruffled her hair and nipped at Allarion’s face.
I told her not to worry,said Bellarand.You’re far too stubborn to die from one little stab.
“Indeed,” he agreed. “I’ve had far worse.”
Molly groaned before a laugh bubbled up her throat. It was a mad sort of giggle, but it felt good—and so did their teasing, although she’d never admit it.
“Absolutely no more stabbings,” she demanded, sitting up to glare at her fae. “I can’t bear it again.”
Allarion’s dear face softened, those amethyst eyes glittering up at her. His hand, with those tapered fingers, cupped the side of her face, his thumb running a soft line across her lower lip.
“Forgive me, sweetling,” he rasped. “I fear I’ve frightened you.”
“You scared me to every hell and back!”
He chuckled to hear it, and she might’ve smacked his arm for it, if she hadn’t seen him be stabbed the day before.
As he looked up at her from the forest floor, his expression faded into something more serious. Molly’s insides clenched, and she reached out to smooth his brow.
