Wild Desire Ch. 08

"What was that Feldspar?" Daniella said. Her eyes roamed over her Lord intently, taking in the guilt-stricken, horrified look on his face.

"The butterflies," Feldspar said. He looked a bit bewildered by the sudden change in atmosphere. "I only meant — well, you know."

"Feldspar, perhaps now is not the time," Nephrite said, her voice quiet and unusually tense.

"What is he talking about?" Daniella demanded, turning to Nephrite.

"Does she not know?" Feldspar asked, now looking over his shoulder to the Lord. The Lord pursed his lips.

"That is quite enough," he said. "You have all over indulged. It is high time you retired for the night." His voice brooked no objections.

Daniella didn't care. She hauled herself to her feet. "Feldspar, you tell me right now. What about butterflies is so funny?"

"Well, because... that was the price of your life," he said awkwardly, not daring to look her in the eye.

"What?" she hissed. A slow rage began to coil in her gut.

"That fool of a professor —" Feldspar started.

"Feldspar, that is quite enough," the Lord interrupted.

" — killed a butterfly in the Wood. That is why he owed a life," Feldspar said quietly. Daniella blinked slowly as her mind struggled to put meaning to the words she was hearing. For a long, silent moment, she could only understand the meaning of each word. Together they just didn't make sense. Her Lord wouldn't have done something so intentionally cruel to her, would he? Feldspar stared at the ground, looking genuinely stricken that she hadn't known.

"To bed with the lot of you," the Lord said darkly, gesturing at the three faeries. He stared fiercely at Feldspar, radiating displeasure. "I will deal with you tomorrow when you are sober."

Gneiss shot to her feet and glared at her Lord. "This," she gestured toward Daniella, "is not his fault. Clean up your own mess and do not think to lay it on Feldspar, who has been nothing but loyal to you." She held his gaze fiercely until he gave her the barest nod of acknowledgement. She took Feldspar's hand and led him up the ladder to their room. Daniella didn't even register when Nephrite disappeared from the room.

"What. The. Fuck. Lord," Daniella said evenly, dangerously. Suddenly she felt utterly and completely sober. She felt more clear-eyed than she had in months. "You imprisoned me here for a butterfly?"

"The Wood demanded a life," he replied. Daniella knew him too well to believe his clipped tone. He was nervous.

"And could that life have been another butterfly?" she asked. His mouth twisted to the side. When no denial was forthcoming she laughed bitterly. "God, I can't believe what an idiot I've been. You've all been laughing at me this whole time."

"You have no understanding of these things," her Lord started. He took a step toward her and Daniella held up a hand.

"Don't." She felt like she was going to be sick. She felt like she needed to scream, or cry, or maybe do all three at once. She counted her breaths out silently, grasping for control.

"I was not —" he started. Daniella held up her hand again.

She pressed her hands to her eyes. She needed to think, to calm the whirlwind of thoughts in her mind.

"Daniella, listen," the Lord said. He stepped through the air, appearing in front of her so quickly she had no time to put space between them. He put his hands on her shoulders, preventing her from stepping back.

"Don't touch me," she choked out, her voice cracking. Her heart was racing, every fiber of her being telling her she needed to get away from him. "You're a monster."

He dropped his hands as if he had been burned. "Daniella — "

"God, I'm such an idiot. I should have seen the signs. Hemlock and Oleander knew you pretty damn well, didn't they? I'm just a toy to you, some stupid human to entertain you until you get bored of me. And then what? What was your plan for me?"

He clenched his fists at his sides and drew himself up to his full height. He glared down at her, his face pale and tight. "Take heed to your words," he growled.

"Or what? Are you going to punish me?" she spat.

He drew back in further. "That..." he stumbled over his words, suddenly seemingly at a loss for a moment. "You go too far." His face hardened into cold rage.

"Too far? Too far," she scoffed. "Don't get it twisted, Lord. You brought me here, you manipulated me, and you are the one who's always taking things farther. If you're such a good guy, how about you explain to me where this was all going to end for me. From where I'm sitting it doesn't look good."

"Do not pretend with me that you hate the things I do to you," he said coldly. "Just because you do not understand something, does not mean it wasn't done for your benefit."

She laughed bitterly. "Yeah. I liked being with you when I thought you were someone you clearly aren't. You're just like Hemlock and Oleander, a beast playing with your food. You think I didn't notice this?" She pointed to the healing, shallow cut near her collarbone. "Explain that to me. Explain how you aren't bleeding me like they threatened to do. Explain how everything you've done has been for my own good."

"I am nothing like them, and if you cannot see that then you are not the person I thought you were." He stepped back from her, radiating pain and anger.

"You should leave," she said. "Just go. I can't talk to you right now. I can't even look at you."

The Lord gave her one last, cold look, turned from her, and disappeared into thin air. As soon as he was gone Daniella crumpled to the floor. She gasped for breath, shuddering with tears and screams that wouldn't come. Her lungs seized, throwing her into a fit of choking coughs. That broke the seal. Tears and sobs poured from her, spilling her grief, shame and rage into the room.

The next day Daniella woke up to the mid-morning sun streaming into the treehouse. She had fallen asleep on the couch, and now her mouth tasted ashy and her head was pounding. The events of the night clawed through the fog of her hangover. A wave of nausea passed over her that had nothing to do with getting drunk the night before.

She stared the ceiling, parsing through her thoughts. Now that she had sobered up, it seemed obvious what she needed to do. She pushed herself up to sitting, finally noticing that Gneiss, Feldspar, and Nephrite were all in the kitchen. Gneiss was gulping down strong tea that smelled of herbal painkillers. Nephrite was eating porridge robotically, staring into space as she massaged her temple with one hand. Feldspar stared into the deep distance, his body utterly still and face devoid of emotion.

Daniella breezed past all three without a word. She returned a few minutes later wearing practical hiking clothes, her backpack, and good shoes. She silently filled several water bottles and stuffed her backpack with every bit of non-perishable food she could fit. Once she had filled it to the brim, she headed toward the door without so much as a goodbye to the faeries.

"I take it you remember the events of last night?" Gneiss said dryly as Daniella reached for the door.

Daniella whirled on her. "Go to hell, Gneiss," she spat. She shifted her gaze to Feldspar and narrowed her eyes. Finally her gaze settled on Nephrite. She had no words for them. Any one of them could have told her the truth, and not one of them had.

The cold hit her with shocking intensity when she stepped outside. The sky was covered with heavy clouds and a frigid wind was blowing from the north. Daniella considered going back for more clothes but the prospect of facing her roommates again after such a dramatic exit wasn't pleasant. She rubbed her arms and began making her way to the ground.

As soon as her feet hit the frost-covered forest floor Daniella strode toward the edge of the Wood. An odd feeling of assurance had settled over her. She navigated the Wood guided by the calm, sure feeling in her heart, passing through the redwoods into the aspen grove within a few minutes. Soon she had arrived at the bank of the stream. She sensed she could go no further and sat down.

She looked out across the stream. The bank on the opposite side was covered in light blanket of snow. Outside the Wood it was apparently deep winter already. She pulled on the sweater she'd brought and waited.

Her Lord appeared after a few minutes. Daniella's breath caught from the sudden pain in her heart. He was dressed in a black suit trimmed with velvet that was tight in all the right places. His diadem was a circlet of utilitarian iron, so unlike his usual crowns. He looked as cold and remote as the first time she had seen him.

He studied her clothing and bulging pack with obvious displeasure. She stood to meet his look with her own defiant, remorseless one.

"I'm leaving, and you're going to let me," she said, as if it was a matter of fact.

"I cannot. You belong to the Wood," he replied automatically. His voice, normally so rich and dark, sounded as cold and brittle as ice.

"I have a whole life out there, Lord," she said at last. "In case you haven't noticed, I don't live forever. I'm not going to spend the rest of my life here just eating and screwing and doing fuck-all. Especially not — not with you."

He drew himself up fractionally taller, holding himself tight and still. Daniella continued. "I'm leaving. I was somebody before I met you. I had a life and plans. I had friends and family." She rubbed her eyes and looked skyward. "I need to get back to my real life before I waste the rest of it here."

"The Wood chose you. This is your life now," her Lord said, his voice trembling just slightly. "Regardless of what you or I may think, it is the Wood that decides whether you may go."

"No," Daniella said. "No. I don't think it is. You can summon an earthquake, grow a mature tree in seconds, direct the wind. You know every move of every animal, where every seed should fall and grow. You said it yourself. You are the heart of the Wood, and if the heart of the Wood is willing, I would be able to go."

He didn't contradict her, so she continued. "I am a human. I belong out there. Maybe it was funny to trick Professor Craven into thinking he owed a human life for a butterfly life. Maybe things got out of hand and went farther than anyone expected. Maybe you discovered that you liked me. Maybe we had something real. Or maybe you're a monster who enjoyed manipulating me. It doesn't matter because here's the bottomline: Get yourself another butterfly. It's not going to be me anymore."

She hefted her backpack and stepped back toward the stream. She could feel an opening from the Wood. There was almost a way out, almost but not quite.

He studied her impassively. Daniella closed her eyes and waited. She could feel the borders of the Wood shifting, could feel a way opening for her. She turned and looked out across the stream. A path leading away from the Wood had appeared on the opposite bank. Still, she sensed the Wood had not quite let go of her yet.

The Lord approached her slowly, as if she was a wounded animal that might bolt or lash out without warning.

"My life is out there," she said, more quietly now. Her heart hurt. She knew she was doing the right thing for herself, but it hurt like hell.

"You do not truly understand the way of the Wood, nor do you understand what you demand of me. A life is a life, whether it be butterfly or human. The debt laid on you was quite real, I assure you. Nevertheless I can see that I cannot keep you here."

He was standing close to her now. He smelled like pine trees and wood smoke and fresh snow. She drank in his jade green eyes, his beautiful face, his rumpled black hair. She didn't think she would see him again. He reached out slowly and took her hand. She started, terrified he would pull her through space, imprison her somewhere.

Instead, he lifted it and kissed the back of it, his eyes fixed on hers. A tremor ran through her, pain and anger and desire and — no. She would not, could not still care for him. Not now. Daniella pressed her other hand into her heart, trying to keep the jagged, broken pieces from bursting through.

He leaned in close, his breath hot against her ear. "Malachite," he whispered. She jerked back and stared at him, uncomprehending. "A trade: my name for your freedom," he said tonelessly, his eyes trained somewhere near her shoulder.

Daniella sucked in a breath. Without thinking she reached for his hand and squeezed it. "Malachite," she whispered, the name spilling out of her. He shuddered and closed his eyes. Daniella felt a tremor run through the Wood. She wondered how long it had been since he had been called by his name. He opened his eyes and met her gaze, raw vulnerability spilling from them for a split second. As soon as she registered the look, he looked away and over her head.

"Goodbye" she said. It wasn't quite what she wanted to say. She wanted to tell him that as angry as she was, he could trust her with his name. She wanted to tell him that she would never forget the Wood, nor him. She wanted to demand that he explain himself to her. She wanted to hear that he wasn't a monster, that even though he'd broken her trust some things had been real.

The single word hung heavily between them. She wasn't sure he had even heard her. He stared fixedly at the opposite bank of the stream, and gestured for her to go.

She turned toward the stream again. A pathway of stepping stones had been raised. She squared her shoulders and stepped onto the path, her heart a confusing mix of hope and betrayal. As she reached the opposite bank she thought she heard him speak, like a whisper on the wind. It sounded a bit like "be well," and a bit like "I'll miss you," and a bit like "I'm sorry."

When she turned around the opposite bank of the stream was empty. It looked indistinguishable from the forest surrounding her. The Wood was gone, and all she could see were ordinary, empty pine trees blanketed in deep snow.

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Thanks for reading friends! Don't worry, the story doesn't end here for Daniella and her Lord.