The Goddess's Gift

“That was a goblin?” Winna asked, sounding surprised.

“Yes.”

“Why was it your fault? Did you do something?”

“We can sense one another’s presence.” Lear replied evenly.

The young woman seemed to have trouble meeting his gaze, and dropped her wide brown eyes to where her cats were sitting. She knelt and petted them, murmuring, “Mira said she could smell another fey person on me. She thought I was one, initially. Her mother said I smelled like one as well.”

“Whether we can smell it or sense it another way, we can usually tell when someone has been around us.” the fey man nodded. “Normally, I’m strong enough to be able to shield my presence, but the poison affects my magic, so I’ve been unable to.”

“Can you still sense the presence of other fey folk?

“Yes. Although I don’t smell it like the fauns do.”

“I see.” her voice was quiet. “So, your presence somehow drew the goblin here?”

“I believe so. It probably passed by, sensed my presence and thought it’d be easy to get in, given I had.” he doubted the goblin had realized he was strong enough to hide his presence, or it wouldn't have tried to intrude.

“So I need to be careful about opening the door, right? And definitely not say 'welcome' as I do, if that goblin was able to construe me opening it as giving permission to enter, I mean.”

“Yes.” he paused, then offered, “I can tell if it’s a person or one of my folk at the door. I can warn you before you open it.”

She looked up at him, blinking a little, “Would you?”

“Yes.”

Winna lowered her eyes again, “Thank you.”

It was quiet for a few moments, and he let himself study her more closely than he had previously.

The young woman was pretty enough, for a human. She had chin-length, curly honey blonde hair that sprung up wildly, framing her dark brown eyes. Her face was sweet, with freckles sprinkled across her nose and upper cheeks, and she had a slightly smallish, faded raspberry cupid’s bow for a mouth.

She was neither tall nor short, but had a slight figure, and always moved like she was in some kind of hurry. Her hands seemed perpetually restless, whether they were petting her cats or busily weaving at the loom, or occupied with making one of her salves, she was always doing something. Though, to be fair, there was a lot for her to do in a day, from what he could tell, and she worked hard to complete all of her tasks.

“Why didn’t you stop the goblin sooner? It was bothering me earlier.” Winna asked quietly.

“I wasn’t sure if I should show myself.” he replied, “I’d told Diana I’d stay in cat form while you were awake, and I didn’t want to incur her wrath by taking my proper shape. Besides, it was relatively harmless, at first.”

Winna smiled slightly, leaning down to kiss Diana, “I love you, miss.”

Diana maowed contentedly, and purred loudly. Lou maowed in complaint, wanting more attention as well. Winna giggled, leaning over to kiss the rather silly, white-pawed tabby. “I love you too, Loopy-Lou!”

Lear shifted a little uncomfortably as the poison throbbed in his veins.

“Are you okay?” she asked softly.

He blinked, surprised she could read his discomfort so easily. But she was a healer, so perhaps it wasn’t all that unusual. “This poison is uncomfortable.” he muttered.

“Oh. How can I help?” Winna asked, standing and dusting off the skirt of her threadbare dress, then surprising him by sitting next to him on the sofa, but taking care to leave an entire cushion between them. “Or…is it even something I can help with?”

“I expect you and Diana can help at least ease the pain.”

“Alright, then.” she nodded, and Diana walked over, knowing she was needed. “I need touch to work.” The young woman held a small hand out.

Just like that, she was willing to help him. He’d done nothing but deceive her, and had only acted to rid her home of the other intruder when he’d absolutely had to, but she was still willing to help him without any real prompting. She didn't owe him a damn thing, but was going to help him anyways.

Lear reached out, taking her small, five-fingered hand in his. Her ears were rounded as well, and he knew her body bore no scales or fur or feathers.

Humans were strange creatures. Five fingers and toes, with no particularly good physical means to protect themselves. It was why they were often very standoffish, he knew. They couldn't even use magic. Or most of them couldn't, anyways. The young woman before him was an exception, of course. Her magic would even keep her young, and he expected she’d already stopped aging, though thirty wasn’t very old at all by fey standards.

Winna looked away, her face heating slightly at the contact of their hands. “Diana.” she murmured, and the cat hopped up between them. The human mage reached out and placed her other hand gently on the cat’s back, then took a deep breath.

Magic surged, and Diana glowed with a golden light, her iridescent blue-green eyes sparkling like gemstones. The pink triangle mark on Winna’s hand glowed weakly, and Lear felt the magic ease into him as golden sparks skittered across his entire form.

“F*cking hell...” He groaned, leaning his head back against the couch.

The magic felt wonderful, like slipping into a bath after a long day. Any and all pain melted away.

“Are you alright?” Winna asked softly.

“Yes.” he sighed, “It just feels good.”

“Good.” she murmured, sounding pleased.

After what felt like far too short a time, the magic faded, and she pulled her hand from his. For a split second, he fancied keeping her hand in his, just to see how she’d react, but instead he let her pull it away. There was no point in poking at her, really, and she’d just helped him, so teasing her would be poor repayment of that.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome!” Her sweet smile appeared. “Let me know if it starts to hurt again, and we’ll be happy to help again.” The smile faltered, “How long does the poison linger?”

“A while.” he admitted, then added, “But with your and Diana’s help, it’ll go faster, I expect.”

“Right.”

“May I stay until it’s gone?”

“I already said you could.”

“It doesn't hurt to ask again.”

“Fair point.” She shrugged, standing. “Are you hungry?”

“Yes.”

Winna walked to the kitchen, “I’ll make dinner. I’m sorry it’s so late.”

He followed her, leaning with his back against the countertop. “Don’t apologize. You were resting, and I can handle waiting. In theory, I could have gotten food for myself if I was particularly hungry.”

She paused, and turned to grimace at him, “You’ve been eating cat food this whole time! I’m sorry.”

“If I cared, I’d have done something about it.” he told her, “It was dried fish, anyways. It was a perfectly acceptable thing for me to eat."

“Still.” Winna mumbled.

It was quiet for a few moments.

“I’m very bad at cooking,” Lear admitted, “but if you’ll give me a task and show me exactly how to do it, I’m usually a quick study.”

Her dark eyes blinked. “Oh, um…Sure.” She thought for a moment, “Think you could peel potatoes?”

“I’m decent with a knife.” he shrugged, pleased she’d picked an easy task. Though given he’d already told her he was bad at cooking, she’d have hardly picked anything difficult.

“Alright then.” Winna briefly showed him how to peel a potato, though he probably could have figured that much out for himself, then had him sit at the table and set him to work.

“Set the peels in a separate bowl, I’ll make a vegetable stock with them.”

“Yes ma’am.” he nodded.

Her dark eyes blinked, and she turned back to the carrots she was peeling, “You’re surprisingly polite.”

“Did you expect otherwise?”

“Well…in that dream, which I realize was more than just a dream now, you weren’t very polite.” she muttered.

Lear shrugged, “I was trying to see how you’d react.”

“Why?”

“To see if you were really as you seemed.”

“As I seemed?”

“Naive, flighty, easy to intimidate.” he waved his hand idly.

“Geez, thanks.” the young woman grumbled.

“Don’t be upset. I was wrong. You weren’t quite as naive as I expected, and not nearly as easy to intimidate.” he replied, then added, “Though maybe a little flighty.”

Winna paused, then sighed and murmured, “I am all three of those things, though. I thought it was a dream, so I didn’t take it as seriously as I should. I…know I’m naive. I’ve stayed in the same little area for my entire life. I know very little of the world, and am scared of so many things.”

“You’re not scared of me.” he pointed out. “Or, not as much as you should be.”

Winna turned to him, clearly confused, “You saved me from getting stabbed, why should I be afraid?”

“I could have done it with the expectation of a favor in return.” Lear replied evenly.

She cocked her head to the side, dark eyes appraising. "You didn’t, though, I can tell.”

He nodded, “See? You’re not as naive as you think, either. You have good instincts.”

-

I frowned, “I…I don’t know.”

“Trust those instincts. They’re good.” Lear told me, then asked, “Do you want me to chop the potatoes too?”

“Uh, yes, Try two inch pieces.”

“What are you making?”

“Oh, um, roast chicken with potatoes and carrots, and rolls. Is that alright? You’re not vegetarian or anything?”

“No.”

“Any allergies I should know about? I’d hate to kill you with my cooking.” I grimaced.

“No. I’m not picky either, given I can’t cook.”

“It’s a good skill to have.” I told him.

“I’m sure. I may be skilled in many things, but I’ve burned enough food to know that it’s one area I’m not inherently gifted in. Cutting vegetables is easy enough, but actually cooking is more difficult.”

“Well, I guess not everyone can be good at it. How’d you survive so long if you can’t cook? I guess your spouse does the cooking?”

His green cat eyes blinked, “I’m not married. I have kitchen staff.”

“Oh.”

It was quiet for a few moments. I finished chopping up the carrots, and began to work on some rolls.

After a little while, Lear brought the potatoes to me, “Here.”

“Thank you!”

“You’re welcome.” he nodded, drifting back to the table and sitting again.

“Kitchen staff. Must be nice.” I mused. So he was wealthy, then, wealthy enough to have at least kitchen staff. That meant more than one, had it been just one, he’d have said he had a cook. Something told me that, if he had kitchen staff, he likely had even more servants. Goodness, what must he think of my simple little life here at my cottage?

“Yes.”

“This must be quite a change of pace then.” I murmured.

“You’re not wrong.” Lear replied. “But it’s peaceful here.”

“Well, normally it is. It’s been a bit lively here the last couple of days.” I sighed.

“That’s my fault. Again, I’m sorry.”

“Jedda’s barn burning down was hardly your fault.” I scoffed, shaking my head a little.

“I wonder about that though.” He said thoughtfully, getting up to stand beside me, leaning against the counter once more, arms crossed.

“What do you mean?”

“He said his farm hands insisted that no lamps had been left on. So how did it catch fire? It wasn’t as if there was a thunderstorm where lightning could have struck the structure.”

“True.” I shrugged.

“And I got the sense of a fey about them.”

“Oh, that’s what you were getting at. Why not just lead with that?”

“Well, it could just be coincidence. Fey folk do live everywhere, whether or not anyone else realizes it.” Lear shrugged.

“Do you think a fey person caused the fire?”

“It’s possible. Jedda and his son-in-law smelled like smoke, given they’d been helping fight the fire, and the smoke’s presence had a slightly magical feel to it.” The fey man let his voice trail off.

It was quiet for a few moments.

“If…if there’s a chance that fey folk caused the fire, whether maliciously or otherwise, we need to warn Jedda and his family, so they can keep an eye out and hopefully keep it from happening again.”

“That would be wise.” he nodded.

“But without proof, I’m not sure they’ll believe me. I know we’re close, but given we’ve always thought there weren’t many fey folk around here, without proof I’m not sure they’ll really buy it.”

“Having a fey person on your arm would go far to convince them, I think. I’ll go with you.”

“Are you sure?” I looked over at him.

“Yes.”

“Then we’ll go tomorrow. I don't want anyone else getting hurt in any more fires.” I told him, putting the pan of rolls into the oven to bake.

“Of course.” Lear nodded.

I pulled off my apron, “Dinner will be ready soon.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. I don’t always feel like cooking, and sometimes just kind of eat whatever, will you be okay on those days? You’ll be welcome to raid the cold box and the pantry, of course.”

“I’m not always at home with my staff.” he snorted, “And when I’m away, I still manage.”

“If you say so.” I shrugged.

It was quiet for a few moments.

“Where are you from?”

“I live in the forest of the feylands.”

I frowned a little, going to sit at my loom and starting to work. “You’re pretty far from home. What took you this far north?”

“Orders.” he replied.

“Orders?” I blinked, realizing what that meant, “You’re a soldier?”

“Yes.”

“What orders were they?” As far as I knew, no humans had really had military dealings with any fey for a very long time, and there had been peace between the human and fey crowns for centuries now.

Lear was quiet for a few moments. “I was sent to deal with an errant member of my kin.”

I could read between the lines. “An assassination mission?”

“More or less.” He shrugged, coming and standing behind me. The fey man reached out and touched the top of the shawl I was working on, which was still attached to the loom. The six long fingers on his right hand danced lightly over the rich blue fibers. “You have clever hands.”

My face heated, “Thanks.”

“What’s it going to be?”

“A shawl. I’ll infuse it with some magic, warming or healing, with Diana’s help, and take it to town to sell. I’m going to do that with more than just this one. I have several more already made and ready to be enchanted.”

“I can see how they’d be popular.” he nodded.

“I’m trying to save up for a new stove. Dern, he’s a dwarf who lives in the village, has some that are magical, like the heating stones, and I’d really like one.”

“Is there something wrong with the one you currently have?”

“The legs are starting to rust, the front of the oven has already fallen off several times, and I’ve had to rig it up in order to keep using it, and it doesn't heat evenly.”

“I see.” he nodded.

It was quiet for a few moments.

“I might keep one of the shawls for myself. I’ll leave it un-enchanted, but I could use a new one.” I muttered. I could use an entirely new wardrobe, really. Jedda had noted that the dress I’d worn had been in bad shape, but it definitely wasn’t the only one.

“How many do you have made so far?”

“Oh…about five. This’ll be six, I think.” I told him.

“Can I see them?”

I blinked, surprised at the request, but wasn’t displeased. In fact, it was kind of nice to have someone want to see something I’d been working so hard on. I was pretty proud of them, too, since I’d used several different patterns. “Sure!”