Page 22 of How To Please A Princely Fae

My heart swells momentarily for my familiar, who did exactly what needed to be done to help Kieran, and by extension, me. I don't know what I did to deserve a familiar like Chirp in my life, but I'm grateful he’s in it.

I might be lonely, but I’m not alone.

Druze helps himself to a slice of cake dressed carefully in sugared swirls, peppered with strawberries sourced from my greenhouse. A little jolt of pride goes through me at the sight of the red berries against white cake.

I hold my head a little higher. I might not be as magical or talented as the other witches, but I am good at what I do.

"Tell us what you know, man," Ga'Rek all but growls, clearly sick of waiting for his information.

Druze chews thoughtfully before slowly swallowing.

“The dryads speak of gods in the forest.”

We’re all hanging on his every syllable already.

“We had myths and legends about them,” he continues.

“Is there anyone in your community that might know more about them?” Ruby urges, twitching slightly, clearly ready for him to speed it up.

I don’t blame her.

“I always just thought that they were myths and legends,” Druze says shrugging his shoulders. “Others might know more than I do, but I wouldn't be sure of it.”

He pauses.

Can’t get a tree to hurry for anything, I guess.

“Besides, dryads don't like to talk to outsiders much.”

Ruby sighs, and Ga'Rek moves closer to Druze.

“Tell us what you do know, then,” he says. “Everything. Nothing’s too small.”

“Why areyouso worried about this?” Caelan interrupts, his forehead wrinkled in confusion. “You have a mate, so she’s not in danger of being taken.”

Ga'Rek fixes him with an irritated look. Despite the orc’s good nature, it's easy to see how quickly he could shift to dangerous.

For his part, Druze doesn't quell under Ga'Rek's fierce gaze.

Instead, he simply inclines his head and then begins to speak again.

"I was raised with the stories. Always told in hushed tones when the nights grew longer and darker, so dark and it seemed that the sun would never rise again. The stories were passed down by the eldest of the dryads. They had thicker trunks than you can imagine, and barrel chests, and a note of truth in their voices.”

He pauses, and from the way Ruby’s shifting from foot to foot, I can tell she’s a heartbeat away from yelling at him to get on with it.

“No one ever spoke of them too loudly, or around too many people. We all heard stories of the forest elementals, these Elder Gods, nonetheless. They took the blame for anything ill that arose, and yet were thanked for anything good happening.”

He exhales slowly, and Lila nudges him gently with her elbow.

Good, because I might help Ruby shake the words loose if he doesn’t hurry it up.

“Not in any way that was overt, or even truly ritualized, but with small trinkets left at the edge of the forest, or honey and fruit left in the same places. They would be gone by morning." He shrugs one shoulder, and his placid expression turns troubled. "When I was a child, I was enchanted by the idea of actual elder beings wandering the depths of the forest. Elementals, pure magic made physical. Incredible.” He shakes his head, still apparently taken with the idea.

Ruby lets out a soft huff of annoyance, her lips thin in impatience.

“As I grew older, I realized animals most likely took the food. The trinkets could have been squirreled away by racoons or magpies. The stories of the Elder Gods were dismissed amongst my peers and me as an elder’s way to coerce the younger generation to behave. Still, our elders’ habits and fear of speaking of them too loudly stayed with us.” His expression turns thoughtful. “This is likely the first time I’ve discussed them in decades."

Caelan sighs. “Is that all? I’m not sure how helpful any of that drivel was.”

---