“I know,” I growl.
“This petal isn’t the same size.”
“I said, I know.”
It had taken me a second too long to register that. The sample Lark collected had been smaller, likely from the flower’s center. Scorpio’s decoy is bigger, potentially from the outer edges of the blossom.
He must have amassed extra petals in advance while picking from the Evermore Bloom. His petty threat about enhancing more fauna proves he’d anticipated needing more. In that case, he had been fucking with us. He’d guessed we were in enemy territory for a piece of the flower, even if he hadn’t known what for. And upon hearing the mortals had caught us, Scorpio had assumed we’d be ripe for coercion.
So he’d brought one of the petals on the way to Reverie Hollow, just in case he needed to either barter or rile us up, make us believe he’d intercepted our band after they had escaped.
Seeing as I’d pissed him off, the scorned merman chose to spite us rather than use the petal as a final bargaining chip. He might be formidable, but like Elixir had once advised us, Scorpio’s also just that transparent.
I nudge my chin toward Cerulean’s sagging wings. “I heard you’re missing a few. How are the rest?”
He grimaces. “They’ve certainly felt better.”
“Can you fly?”
“Not with this much iron in my system. It appears Scorpio possesses quite some reserves if he withstood the element long enough to sustain a conversation with you, of all Faeries.”
“Wise ass. Just how long were you awake before coming to my rescue?”
“Long enough to be quiet about it.”
And that’s why he’s the refined trickster of us three.
“Anyway,” I continue, “I’ve learned multiple times from my woman how far persistence can take anybody. Scorpio was maniacal enough to deal with the iron, the same way an Unseelie Fae will carve an extremist mantra into their flesh.”
On that note, I slide the knife over to Cerulean. “Better keep that hidden. Got any clue how long we’ve been out here?”
Cerulean glances at the inclines and briers flanking us. “A few hours or a few days. It could be either. Though, I’d say the former based on Scorpio’s timing and the state of your back.”
“Ugh.” I rub my shoulder. “Did you have to remind me?”
Tired chuckles pull from our mouths. However, they peter out once Cerulean’s breaths turn shallow. Short puffs scrape from his mouth, and his complexion bleaches as he casts about the cage, trauma resurrecting itself like a phantom.
Shit. The location is hitting him.
“Hey.” I nudge his calf with my hoof. “Let’s play a game.”
“For once, I’m not in a gaming mood.”
“Aww, don’t be bashful. Tell me something, luv. Just concentrate and switch one memory for another. Could be anything, see? So long as it takes me off guard. That’s the objective: Try and rattle me. I dare you.”
Cerulean’s eyes slide over to the creek. “Do you remember the time Elixir made a test brew that dyed your antlers purple?”
I cough. “Fables and fuck, you’re good at this.”
“It was a lavender color, if I’m not mistaken.”
“Oh, now you’re laying it on thick.”
“I still remember the flummoxed look on his face and the appalled expression on yours.”
I groan. “Serves me right for volunteering to be his guinea pig.”
Cerulean’s mouth ticks. “To be fair, he’d claimed it was supposed to mend a crack in your crown.”