Chapter 134: Squirt Confessions

Squirt watched the other greenlings from a shadow by the wall in the greenling den. The air was rich with the smell of the evening stew bubbling on the cookfire in the kitchen. The brown walls of stone were warmly lit by the bright stone centered in the cavern’s ceiling, illuminating greenlings going about their daily lives in this hidden part of Everwinter Keep.

Pakos was on patrol outside, watching the redcaps for Squirt while preparing to soak up as much moonlight as possible. Leaving Squirt alone with her thoughts.

The results of her existence lay bare before her.

The workday was over, and in this near paradise, the greenlings had freedom.

For the first time in living memory, they had free time. Their next meal didn’t need to be chased down, they didn’t need to spread out amongst the city to hunt out supplies, there were no tasks that needed attention to earn that extra bit of coin that could mean the difference between life or death.

Greenlings as a whole were no better at resting on their laurels than she was. Since she’d finished her own tasks and come down here to check on everyone, she’d rested against the wall, amused by watching so many of those she’d grown up with grappling with the concept of free time.

The elders did not grapple with any of it, being too old and set in their ways. Instead, they prepared, as they always did. Cleaning the kitchen, picking vegetables and fruits, drying out others for the winter, reducing stock down to a singular tablet that could then be added to water for flavor without going bad while waiting on a shelf. Concepts she had used and built on in the Wylds for her soup bases.

Those who were older, but not elder, were also set in their ways. Having better eyesight than the elders and more skill than those younger, they had gathered in corners, sewing new clothes or patching old as needed, crafting boots out of scraps of leather, weaving baskets, anything that required motions with hands that the true elders struggled to do anymore.

Those of the next group were mixed. Some, she was heartened to see, were practicing their blade work in a corner by the hot springs, providing entertainment to the rest when one was knocked into the water, titters of amused but loving laughter echoing over the rest. A couple were gossiping in a corner, one of the nearby elders shooting them judgmental looks for not helping. Others were doing laundry or cleaning or any number of tasks that had to habitually be done to prevent the work from piling.

At least three had entered the space, scratched their heads, and then wandered aimlessly for at least ten minutes. There was no work that needed doing. There was no one to direct them. Many had been dismissed from their stations for the day, something the few employed as servants in the Capital could boast. Most were required to be by their master’s side day and night.

Not here.

While she watched over her people, seeing them struggle with the same things she had for so long, Squirt considered her options.

Having finished letting the greenlings know who was next for an adventure in the Wylds tomorrow, and with the day’s tasks being done, it was time to do some enchanting. She’d gotten a gourd from Quint during Puds’ training and had acquired all of the materials needed to run her experiments for her glider. Plus, there were the goggles that she could—and perhaps even should—improve on.

So many options, and yet, instead, she was leaned up against the wall, watching. Observing. Thinking of their future here.

It was hard to imagine this would all be here a hundred years from now. If Lord Everwinter got called away, they might lose it all. Every bit. This space. This security.

This freedom.

Which brought her back to Valof.

The offer from the Valof Family to take in every single greenling had been generous. Tantalizing, even. Or at least, she supposed it should be tantalizing.

It just wasn’t. Not for her.

The offer of protection from such a large-scale Family could be the answer to every greenling’s prayers—maybe.

Lord Valof was just one person. So was Ala’ole. A Family, particularly this one, was large and filled with far more than two reasonable fey. And that was assuming he hadn’t lied to her, which, given her track record, was a distinct possibility. Though she hadn’t been lied to so openly since the Sia-bitch, those wounds cut deep, and no amount of kind, reasonable fey had been able to heal them.

Squirt wasn’t a fey that could scent lies, and sadly, neither was Tobias.

She’d asked.

Not only could she potentially be dooming her entire people to misery and slavery at the lord’s behest, but she’d also be signing away her own precious and precarious freedom to do so.

The mantle of deciding their fates wasn’t one she was prepared to wear today. Eventually, she would do what she knew she needed to—bring it to the other greenlings for a vote. It was how their little society was supposed to work. The Elders would offer guidance, and the populace would vote on any major decisions. Not that those decisions were frequent. In her lifetime, she’d only seen the community vote once.

This would be worth a vote.

But there was a problem with that.

By bringing it to their attention and allowing a vote, she would lose control of her own freedom. The stipulation was that she would have to join the Valof Family. That her inventions and mind would belong to them.

Like they had belonged to the Sia-bitch before.

Reasonable or not, she wasn’t ready to face that as a possibility. She couldn’t. This time, it wasn’t just her freedom at stake, but theirs.

As was standard, avoidance was her go-to coping strategy, which was why she was going to bury herself in enchanting at every possible opportunity. If Lord Valof was as reasonable as he claimed, he would wait for her answer until spring, and she’d be damned if she didn’t test that supposed patience of his.

Which still left her with the question of where she should set up. A simple question that should have an easy answer—obviously, she should go be alone.

And yet, she lingered. Caught by unexpected nostalgia. An innocent yearning for what once was.

When she was younger, she would enchant in the open, often with the others watching—Leaf, Puds, Tater, Puff, all the members of their gang. The company of the rest of the greenlings was a part of that tapestry of memories; one she could taste now. Their voices would become a soothing hum in the back of her mind that kept her focus. Perhaps last night with Tater, Puff, and Spark had hit deeper than she’d thought, because the idea of sitting down right where she was, leaning against a wall opposite the Hunt’s statue, was honestly tempting.

Revealing her wings had her stomach twisting into knots, but she wouldn’t have to. Not when she knew that Zhadin was watching her from the shadows like usual. Not when she knew they were on offer.

They were always on offer.

She could avoid her people entirely. There was her room on the upper floor of the cavern that she could hide herself away from all prying eyes. She could head there. Could lock herself away to craft what she needed next and only come out when the enchanting was done. That is what those rooms were made for, after all—privacy.

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There were other places she could go. The den. The library. The lord’s office. Any one of them would suit her needs quite nicely.

But the cadence of voices kept her tethered. A sense of peace to it she normally only had in the Wylds.

She was still debating what to do when the pest appeared, a basket of corn on his back as he whistled and skipped to the song he’d written about her, a line of children following him with their own baskets like a line of ducklings waddling behind their mother.

It was like the entire cavern brightened at once. Those who wandered aimlessly were drawn towards him with curious eyes and helpful hands. He exchanged quiet words that had them laughing and the children bursting into giggles. The elders greeted him with open, teasing warmth that he returned with a flirty wink, the type that was never meant to escalate towards more even if it played on the flirtations offered. A platonic acknowledgement of beauty and fun.

Watching the proceedings, from the corner of her eye, Squirt saw Puds approach her, silent and careful. The taller pixie didn’t say anything as she sidled up alongside Squirt in this darkened shadow of the otherwise brightly lit cavern. She simply found her own spot, folding her hands behind her back, and leaned against the stone wall, watching the others much as Squirt did.

Some encouragement from those around the pest had his hands up placatingly, and he pulled out an instrument, strumming it idly as he began a quiet rendition of a common tavern song. Conjuring up a ball with a kick of his foot, he sent it straight into the chest of one of the kids, who caught it, then squealed and ran away, the others chasing her, the game one that they clearly knew even if Squirt didn’t recognize it.

The child’s wings opened, and the game took to the air. In a cavern this large and open, it allowed the children to openly play without getting underfoot of the grown-ups.

Squirt and Puds used to play similar games. The forgotten and buried underground city under the Capital was from pre-Cataclysm era, and most of the building had tall ceilings that were once thought to bring fey closer to the gods.

When Puds spoke, the words were whispered. Careful. Measured. She spoke as she usually did to Squirt, in greenling. “Tater told me about your adventures last night.”

Squirt glanced her way out of the corner of her eyes before her attention flickered back to the children flying around the cavern. She had a feeling she knew what Puds was going to say.

She was right.

“She said you climbed the trees. Up and down. With tools.”

Squirt dropped her eyes to the ground, unfocused on the dirt floor.

They both knew what Puds would ask. Knowing each other as they did, the words did not need to be said. The silence between them was weighted with years and complexities that could not be expressed with words.

Squirt teetered. In this quiet corner hidden in shadow, watching a secreted prince play music to her people who were experiencing their first taste of true freedom, she teetered on a question that was never spoken.

When she spoke, it was a bare whisper, a vulnerability to her voice she had forgotten she could even express. “I tried to run.”

Puds didn’t speak. Didn’t interrupt. Didn’t even shift. Nothing changed. The world didn’t end. The game between the children, the gossiping elders, the deft hands of hardworking fey who had never known different, none of it acknowledged the whispered confession.

Minutes passed. The pest spun up a new song based on an elder’s request, tweaking her nose and earning a playful giggle and bat of her hand from the old woman as he did.

Squirt spoke again, her eyes fixated on the man that could make even Elder Thorn, the most curmudgeonly elder here, giggle at his antics. “She was never my fey. She was just a woman who enjoyed the convenience of me.”

Puds didn’t react. She didn’t seem surprised, either.

Maybe Squirt should have given her more credit. Maybe she’d already pieced together some of this herself. Maybe even…

Squirt continued, memories of that night hovering around the edges, kept at bay by a charming smile that made her believe that maybe happiness was only a strum and dance away. “I tried to run. She wanted to make sure I could never run again. Instead, she made sure I could never…”

She couldn’t say it.

Solid warmth pressed into her shoulder. Puds had stepped close enough for their shoulders to touch, leaning into Squirt without weighing her down. Giving her strength with a subtly the old Puds had never had before. After a moment, Squirt leaned back into Puds. Accepting the silent, quiet show of support.

It gave her strength.

“I prayed. I prayed to every god and goddess there was. And before the final… before she finished, one answered.”

Though there was no sound, Squirt could feel the sharp intake of breath from Puds, the shock of it working through her system.

It made a hollow laugh fall from her lips. “The Hunt has ensured that she can never touch me again.”

Silence fell between them.

Puds finally spoke. “She still did.”

The truth of that hit Squirt harder than she’d expected. Unable to speak, she gave a single, small nod, an acknowledgement that was a confession as much as the rest of what she had said.

They watched the evening meal begin to be doled out, the children’s game with the ball ending, the pest walking away from a lute that continued the quiet music in his stead as he offered to help take servings to everyone, trading laughs and quiet jokes with the greenlings he passed.

The question from Puds was as unexpected as it was welcome, easing the heavy air that the past had brought. “I miss watching you craft things.”

The shift was enough to help pull Squirt back out of darker memories into happier ones, instead. How could she have forgotten? Puds was never able to understand the complex formulas that Squirt would scratch out in the dirt, but she always came over and watched, fascinated by the process, anyway. Or, perhaps, because of it. “I don’t miss you ruining my crafting.”

It had happened repeatedly where Squirt would be in the process of feeding her magic to the runes, needing absolute concentration, only for Puds to innocently start asking questions or drape herself over Squirt or touch materials, ruining the experiment entirely.

“I promise I won’t ruin it.”

Squirt’s lips quirked up in a semblance of a smile. “I suppose I could pull out my slate.”

“Will you explain it to me?”

“Always. Will you understand it?”

“Never.”

“Then why ask?”

Puds didn’t answer right away, the heavier topics and vulnerability shared leading to a more pensive atmosphere, one full of open honesty Squirt hadn’t expected. “You were always so much smarter than me. I could never wrap my head around the formulas. It was like a game where only you knew the rules. Asking meant I could watch the game being played, even if I didn’t know the score.”

A genuine smile found its way onto Squirt’s face. It was small. Hidden. Much like she was. But just as real.

She pushed her shoulder more forcibly into Puds’ for a beat, an encapsulation of her feelings on the subject, the action filled with deep affection and edged in a playfulness she’d almost forgotten. “I have enchanting I can do.”

Puds did not disguise her eagerness. “Really?”

“Really.”

“We can take our dinner to one of the rooms. So the others don’t see.”

Squirt snorted. “Everyone will think we’re fucking.”

“So? When has that stopped us?”

That was true. They had often gone off alone together. They had stunned more than a few of their fellow greenlings by remaining strictly platonic. They always had been and always would be. An unspoken boundary neither had ever felt inclined to cross, and today was no exception.

Squirt considered it. “Zhadin will join us if we do.”

“The shadowfell, right?”

Conscious that Zhadin was most definitely in the shadow behind her even if they could not understand the language they were speaking, Squirt answered, “Yes.”

“Are they here?”

“Usually.” She almost said always.

Puds turned her head to study Squirt intently. After a couple of beats, Squirt frowned, glancing up at the concentration in Puds. “What?”

Puds leaned back against the wall, her expression a touch nervous.

Squirt read her in a heartbeat. “They won’t begrudge us for speaking greenling, nor will they require your deference.”

“You’re sure?”

Weighing her options for a response, Squirt finally said, “I have never once been convenient for them. And yet, they stay.”

The meaning was a double entendre in greenling here. Acknowledging both the literal of never being convenient, and that they didn’t have a sexual relationship.

“But… they want you to, don’t they?”

“They’ve never asked.”

“They haven’t?”

“The most that they’ve said is that their feelings are their own.”

Stunned, Puds stared, wide-eyed, at Squirt.

Squirt grimaced and shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot, the rough wall of stone behind her scaping against her leathers.

“They’re… actually courting you?”

“With gifts and everything, the loon.”

“And Fel?”

“Mhm.”

“Two of them?”

Squirt winced. “Four, actually.”

“And… you trust them?”

Squirt considered that. The food had almost finished being passed out, and she caught the Pest glancing in her direction curiously, clearly wondering if he should bring her and Puds a portion as well.

Eventually, she landed on, “Today, yes.” Because that much was true.

Tired of this subject, she pushed off the wall. “Come on. Let’s grab some supper. I’ll let you pick which project we work on.”

Squirt glanced over her shoulder at the bright smile on Puds’ face before the other woman followed her, an odd lightness in Squirt’s chest that she would not recognize for a long while yet. The sensation of emotional scars healing through love and acceptance.

But for today, just knowing the lightness existed was enough.

Elsewhere in the town of Everwinter, a fight broke out in a bar that required the Guard to be called. A fight between a mercenary from the Capital convinced that the Queen herself had mated a greenling and planned to give them special privileges at the expense of the common fey, and the residents of Everwinter who believed those privileges were earned by their very own Athereon.

Because honestly, the idea that the Queen of Fer’ich would mate a greenling was surely ridiculous.