despair over the fact that she doesn’t seem to be taking any joy in our surroundings. Her clothes have dried rumpled due to the hours of walking since the rainstorm swept through. I should have had her ride, but she asked for a day to just walk before she was able to face riding again, and in the face of her fear I could deny her nothing. Now, however, I wonder if my capitulation caused her to overtax herself.
She appears far more tired than I thought she would be. Her hair sticks out unevenly in a few places, and her eyes, which scan our chosen campsite, are ringed with exhaustion. All the same, she is beautiful to me as ever, and I feel my chest warm with affection. I am also concerned because she has been limping for the last while, and I’m eager to get her settled somewhere as comfortably as possible.
Lips pinching together, Steph sighs and absently rubs the small of her back.
“I guess this is it, then?”
I set a comforting hand on her shoulder so that she looks back at me, her expression for once not guarded, and I give her an encouraging smile.
“I will make sure you are as comfortable as I can manage,” I promise.
She looks at me with confusion, but I understand that she’s not really able to comprehend all of what I can do for her, and all of it—all of my magic, all of me—is hers. Turning away, I set about examining the space where we will lay and getting a feel for the various energy paths in the air around me. Although I can conjure things, I have to be careful with the way that I do so. Even conjuration has its own set of rules. I cannot draw iron, I can’t materialize food—which is the real pity—and if I don’t want to drain myself into exhaustion, I have to work with the natural fibers and materials surrounding me.
Standing in the center of our camp, I glance at my mate, only to find her squinting into the dark. There is no disguising the fact that she’s ill at ease as she stands there waiting on me.
I turn my head in the direction she stares and draw in a deep breath to scent the air, but there is nothing there. For whatever reason, she is particularly unsettled, but I suspect it may be largely due to the unfamiliar surroundings in which she finds herself. If I am uncomfortable, there is little reason to doubt that she would also be uneasy to an even greater degree. To be in the fae world and far from any settlement must be particularly disconcerting to her if she spent much of her time in the human cities.
She just needs somewhere that she will feel safe. I can try to do at least that much for her.
Drawing the energies of fibers from all around me, I begin to fashion them back together into a giant thick leaf-like material to serve as a protective canopy before I move on to making soft bedding, drawing from the natural plant life as I do so. Although I can feel my energy draining away as I expend it toward creating a comfortable shelter, I refuse to stop until there is a thick pile of bedding waiting for my mate to lie upon.
My arms are shaking with exertion, my horn throbbing in an uncomfortable ache on my brow from the continuous pulses of energy that spun around it like a spindle as I weave my magic into place. I let my arms drop heavily to my sides, my breath heaving out of me in large gusts of air as Grimsal whistles from where he is perched on a stone nearby.
“Now that is true artistry, though now you look like shit. Looks like you pay a hefty price for this sort of magic,” he observes, squinting critically at me.
I wave him off and grunt impatiently. It is rare that I engage in such expenditures of power, and it may be foolish to do so when we’re so far from the well, but as far as I’m concerned it is worth it. I have little doubt that the goblin is waiting for a reply, but I decide not to humor him. Instead, I go over to Steph and tap her arm to get her attention. Her face immediately lights up at the sight of our camp.
“You did all of this?” she exclaims as she