Page 281 of Kingdoms of Night

His and Enid’s courtship was not standard by any means. Much of it had been shrouded in secrets and lies and double-crosses.

“My wife and I had a very brief courtship. What I knew instantly was that I wanted to protect her. Shortly after that, I knew I wanted to make her happy. Then I realized I couldn’t imagine a day without her by my side. Just as the sword chose me to wield it, my heart chose her to be its keeper. To wield it as she saw fit. That’s how I knew.”

Baysle stared at him, wide-eyed. He took a deep breath, then nodded and stood. The squire’s shoulders were straight again and his head high.

Geraint wasn’t sure if many of his words made it past the hormones raging through the boy. He’d have to keep an eye on him. Witch or not, chivalry or chauvinism, he still believed young ladies needed their honor protected from randy young males.

“Oh my G, that was so sweet.”

Geraint’s hackles went up at the sound of that particular lady’s voice. He didn’t want to turn. He didn’t need to. He knew exactly who he’d find at his back.

“Dude,” said Loren, “did you know there are flowers in your hair?”

CHAPTERTWENTY-ONE

Enid tipped her head up to the noonday sun. She felt the rays seep into her skin as the orb gave her its synthesized energy. Her stomach growled, but she ignored it. Her belly might rumble for the food her nose could smell in Igraine's kitchen, but it was her roots that were truly starving.

She'd barely seen the sun in days. She hadn't set foot in soil in just as long. She was wilting from all the salt intake, but it had been worth it.

She had never known such pleasures as she'd found in her husband's bed. Geraint had been insistent on touching and tasting every part of her. And Enid had happily obliged, especially since he let her taste him whenever and wherever she liked.

She’d spent their second night together nibbling at his expansive chest while her fingers explored the dips and valleys of his abdomen. The man’s torso boasted eight defined hills of muscle. He’d alternately grinned and groaned as she explored each and every one.

Their fourth night together, she’d ventured out onto his back. He’d laid face down, sated from their vigorous coupling. Instead of tiring, Enid always found herself energized from his attentions. He’d sighed as she’d traced the plains of his shoulder blades with first her fingertips. When she backtracked, using her tongue, she felt him stir below. He’d flipped over and reversed their positions before she’d reached the summit. Her husband had slipped into her from behind, and they’d climaxed together.

It was a wonder the two could stand after their marathon of love-making sessions. They'd barely filled their mouths with sustenance each morning before falling back into the bed, clamoring for another taste of each other.

Truth be told, Enid couldn't wait for another helping of her husband's salty sweat taste. Her roots had other needs, though. She slipped off her shoes and sank her toes into the fertile grounds of Camelot. The magic of the place immediately fed into her veins.

Plants and vines poked up their heads to say hello and welcome her. Sproutlings opened their bulbs, blinking stamen eyes up at her. Deep in the soil, she felt the roots of the Welwitschia tree that was the foundation of the castle. The roots of the tree reached up and tickled the instep of her foot.

Enid let out a giggle at the playful caress. No plant had ever done that to her before. The Welwitschia’s root wrapped around her toe, giving it a pulsing squeeze. The voice in Enid’s head, the voice that whispered danger, was very, very quiet. It didn’t ring any alarm bells. Because there was no danger.

Nothing would hurt her here. Here was safe. Here, she was welcome.

In her arms, she held the pouch of seeds she’d brought from her world, along with her mother’s roots, her own roots, and her flower. It was the first time she’d touched the pod since she was a sprout herself. She crouched low, coming to a sitting position. Then she laid her flower into the soil.

In careful rows, she laid each seed to root. The sproutlings burroughed happily into the magical soil, a few already unfurling leaves and buds. Her mother’s roots and her own, she knew, would take some time, if they ever bloomed at all.

Not for the first time, sorrow weighed her down. She watched as a slight glow emanated from the egg-like pod. Her flower felt the same connection to the soil here at Camelot. The seed might thrive here, but it would never sprout. Fae and humans were not compatible to make a flower bloom.

She would have to tell her husband soon. But not today. She wanted a few more days of happiness before she had to give the feeling up.

“Watch out!” cried a high-pitched voice.

Enid pulled her flower to her chest with one hand and let loose a series of thorns with the other. The thorns stopped just short of a smiling child. A girl child with large eyes and curly hair.

“Wow,” said the little girl without an ounce of fear in her voice as she stared at the vines just an inch from her face. “Are you Spider Woman?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You know, like Spider Man, but a woman. 'Cause Spider Man shoots webs from his fingers.”

The little girl stepped around the vines and came to sit beside Enid. Her round face looked up at Enid. Entirely guileless and innocent. And still without fear.

“I’m not a spider.” Enid retracted her vines, and the girl gasped again with delight. “These aren’t webs. They’re vines.”

“Can you shoot them from your toes?”

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