Chapter 141: Squirt's Pest and Tobias' Bartos

Once Squirt got a list of everyone who was going, she sent them off to their workplaces for the afternoon. They would inform their jobs that they were being tasked with something by order of Lord Everwinter and would then finish out their shifts. Dusty, Puds, and Spark stayed behind to discuss strategy, the elders moving their tasks to the nearest table to listen in.

Meaning the Pest stood there next to them. Listening.

Or at least trying to.

Squirt used a stick to draw out a recreation of Riverlands from memory as a map on the ground between them to discuss the situation.

The process took hours. Squirt explained what she knew about the territory, including where she’d previously traveled, what she knew of the area, the flow of the river, and likely places Lord Everwinter had suggested the humans might have set up camp, alternating between Common and Greenling as she spoke. From there, she had to rely on Puds, Spark, and the elders to not only pair greenlings that would work well together, but pair experience levels. Squirt would take the most dangerous path, the one with the highest likelihood of encountering any encampment. But while no path was guaranteed, they varied in their own level of danger.

Everything was considered. Temperament. Expertise. Stealth. Acting ability. Even cooking—though when Squirt explained that they likely wouldn’t be able to make cooking fires, and that she didn’t have the time to make portable stoves even with help, several of the elders immediately stood up and began preparing food. Hard pressed bars of dense calories that could be eaten without cooking and lasted for ages without ever going bad.

The elders who took up cooking still listened. Weighing in on the discussion, adding about who knew what and who was calm in a disaster and who had a terrible or fantastic sense of direction. One by one, they paired everyone up in little groups that, in theory, would have the highest likelihood of success. Paths were drawn. Redrawn. Pairs were switched or moved repeatedly.

Partway through, Puds stopped the conversation long enough to ask Squirt what to order from Quint for this.

That had required its own discussion.

Puds left long enough to deliver the request to the quartermaster before thankfully reappearing, since she was better at keeping the elders on track than Squirt.

By the time they finished, even Squirt found her attention wandering, for once empathizing with the pest. He’d gotten better at hiding he was lost, but she could tell he struggled even when the conversation returned to Common instead of Greenling. He’d be listening along. Nodding. Considering. Then his gaze would soften in thought. He’d freeze, a flash of mild panic in his eyes, then the smallest wrinkle to his brow of concentration as he tried to follow along again.

After six hours of planning and strategizing, the same thing happened to her. Especially when the elders would just start bickering with each other over minor details like whether the cook fire was hot enough for the hard tack they were making or whether Splash got lost in the marketplace before or after being named. There were only so many times even Puds could tell them to focus, because the Hells had no wrath like a greenling elder.

So Squirt’s mind wandered, planning next steps, no longer paying attention to the course of the conversation until suddenly, the topic changed.

“—do not understand, how anyone could deny him?”

What? Who? Squirt glanced at the Pest, but the elders were speaking in greenling, so he had completely spaced out. He refocused at her attention and gave her a smile.

“Perhaps we ask directly?”

“No, I think it’s cuter this way.”

“You just like the drama.”

“I’ve never seen him in her room.”

“We don’t see them at night, we don’t know where he is then.”

“Such a shame.”

“Perv.”

“Grape, your gonna burn it.”

“I’m not going to burn anything, Thorn.”

“Well, tell us then, Squirt.”

What?

Having thoroughly lost the thread of conversation, Squirt asked flatly, “What do you want me to tell you, Elder Seed?”

“He doesn’t act like any we’ve ever known, but he is, isn’t he?”

A horrifying feeling sank into Squirt’s gut. They weren’t, were they? Talking about the Pest?

Nope. She was not engaging in that. “I think I need to take this back to the lord.”

Berry had already delivered the message on how many were going as she served Kenna and Lord Everwinter when not attached to Cirn, but now that they had a plan with routes, Squirt needed to give it to him.

The elders pouted.

Gossips.

It didn’t matter who they were talking about, Squirt did not engage with their love of gossip.

Even if that was the very reason they were so damn good at giving her detailed profiles of each greenling and who would pair best with whom.

Instead, Squirt closed her notebook, putting it and the charcoal pen away with a sigh.

The Pest perked up. “Is the conversation over?”

Since the elders were currently gossiping as to whether or not one of the other greenlings had gotten propositioned by an outsider based on the way he’d sat down that morning, Squirt said, “Yes. It seems so.”

“Good. Are you thirsty? Do you need me to get you some water?”

The elders grew suspiciously hushed in their conversation.

Squirt shook her head. Reminded of her thirst, she reached into her pouch and pulled out her waterskin, taking a long drink from it.

The Pest shifted, a light going off in his eyes as he thought of something. “Oh. Yes. So twenty-five are going, including you?”

As had been decided hours ago, “Yes.”

“And this Riverlands is outside of the border?”

Squirt nodded again, slowly. “Yes?”

He let out a breath, gave her a firm nod, then turned around and walked away.

Squirt stared after him, completely dazed.

Deciding it wasn’t important right now, Squirt headed off to his lordship’s office, expecting to update him on the plan of action before returning to the greenling cavern. What she wasn’t expecting was to stop in the library at the sounds of raised voices.

And when she turned the corner to see an annoyed Berry walking her way, Squirt realized the voices were accompanied by moans.

“Don’t even think about it,” muttered Berry when the woman passed Squirt. She flopped herself down on the ground just on the audible edge of what was happening in the office, leaned back, and sighed. “At least they’re finally doing something about their feelings.”

Deciding abruptly that she didn’t want to know more, Squirt shook her head, turned, and headed straight back down to the fork that led to the quartermasters. She’d just write up the planned routes for him in the morning.

Then she spent another few hours doing a survival crash course in the cavern, going over all their gear, exit strategies, and reminding those going that they could fly away and return to the keep for any reason. She’d stressed that point several times, to the point that Spark called her out over it, snapping that they got the point and to stop wasting her breath.

No Pest.

Discussions led well into half-light. Food was packed. Supplies were passed out. Knowledge was traded. Squirt pulled out parchment and a board, finding a corner to draw out the plans in meticulous detail. Several nameless ones were enraptured by the very concept, some having rarely even seen parchment, and watched over her shoulder as she dipped the quill and wrote, dipped, wrote, dipped wrote.

No Pest.

Squirt sought out the redcaps, finding Qzi amongst them and telling them that they had to heal whatever they broke, figuring that rule would be enough deterrent to keep them from getting into too many fights on her behalf. Or killing anyone.

No Pest.

Squirt returned to the greenling cavern after lights out, dragging her exhausted self to her bedroom, wondering if she should have just said fuck it and brought the redcap back with her for nighttime. Instead, locked in her room, she set out her bedroll on the moss and Zhadin stepped from the shadows, and without any words exchanged, they laid down together, their arms as tightly wrapped around her as their tendrils, making a nest she could disappear into made up of their body.

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She slept like the dead.

When she woke, she knew instinctively it was just before dawn. Zhadin was awake, staring at the door, alert but not tense. At her bleary-eyed glance, they murmured softly, “Will you let him in?”

Confused and still a bit groggy, Squirt took a second to work out what they meant. “… the Pest?”

“Yes.”

Squirt sat up, rubbing her eyes as she nodded.

Zhadin didn’t shift from their spot, their arms still loosely wrapped around her waist as the door opened.

“Oof!” came the grunt from the pest, who fell backwards having apparently been leaning against the door.

Drawn in by the noise, Squirt glanced over at him before her body went still.

He held a small basket in his hands, but that wasn’t what surprised her. No.

His clothes were rumpled. The illusion of his hair and eyes were flickering, streaks of brown and violet just barely visible for a split second before they disappeared under bright pink once more. His eyes were heavy with a loopy exhaustion, his brown skin unnaturally pale, and his body trembled as he cradled the basket to keep from falling on it. Once it was secured, he shifted to his knees, the movement slow and stiff.

He smiled, the expression dopey and loopy in equal measure. “Good morning, huntress.”

Squirt threw off the covers from her bedroll, quickly running over to assess the Pest. With trembling fingers, he held out the basket, looking like he was dead on his feet, yet still smiling.

He tried to speak, his voice a bare rasp of its usual strength. “There’s… twenty-five. One for each. Sorry it took long, but I made it. In time. I was on time.”

His eyes were unfocused, and he swayed slightly where he kneeled before her. She grabbed the basket, setting it to the side as she grasped his shoulders. “Are you hurt?”

He blinked owlishly at her before giving her the softest, most loving smile. “Jus’ tired, my love,” he mumbled, before shaking his head and muttering, “Non, non, sorry, huntress, not…” he reached towards the basket, almost pitching over if Squirt hadn’t been holding his shoulders. “I’ll rest, I will, just… one for everyone. Break them, and I’ll get them to safety. You, too.”

He reached over as if to touch her face, only to think better of it, his hand curling into a fist and dropping instead. “Be safe,” he murmured. “Please.”

Zhadin shifted into their fey form, standing from the mossy bed and kneeling behind the almost drunk Pest. Carefully, they touched his shoulders, pulling him back against their chest.

The pest tilted his head up to smile dopily at Zhadin. “’ll be fine… just…”

“Sleep.”

The Pest nodded, already slipping into unconsciousness.

Squirt stared at his pale features in the dim light of the open doorway. His aura control was normally impeccable, making it hard to tell how much he had on hand at any one time, but now his aura felt… weak. Feeble, almost.

Shifting closer, she took one of his limp hands, realizing it was ice cold.

He was empty. Empty of magic.

Him.

Her eyes traced over to the small disks in the basket. Each had a cord attached, carefully laid out to keep them from tangling, and she realized what they were.

Beacons.

Twenty-five beacons. One for each greenling, including herself, who was going.

Lord Everwinter wouldn’t have been able to provide any. Not even the Queen herself could have. Not for outside the country border. Telos or Jezalin or Anvanil might have been able to create one in the timeframe of a single night, but…

And…

And she was just…

And she was just supposed to leave him like this? His hands ice cold, his breathing shallow and skin clammy, weakened beyond all belief after having genuinely given everything to this—

He didn’t have to make one for every single pair, they could have shared—

“Idiot,” she muttered, weakly, even if her heart wasn’t in it. Perhaps it was the early hour, or having only just woken up, or having her emotional defenses slowly broken down one by one by these fey wanting to love her, but her voice rasped and her eyes watered.

Shoving down those thoughts, she stood, muttering, “Wait here.”

Zhadin gave her a nod.

Squirt came back a few minutes later with several thick blankets and a sleepy looking Puds. Zhadin laid the Pest out on the mossy bed, the man not even stirring as Squirt called him all kinds of idiot in her head. How was he supposed to respond to a beacon if he was dead on his feet? What use to her would he be if he died from his stupidity?

She spent a few minutes fussing in silence, the other two watching as she tucked the Pest into the blankets. Puds handed her a mana potion from the quartermaster’s supply, and Squirt carefully lifted him, dripping it into his mouth bit by bit until the color returned to his cheeks and he sighed in his sleep.

Then she fussed over him for another minute, re-tucking him in and muttering about what an idiot he was, and that he didn’t need to do twenty-five beacons when thirteen would have been more than enough, and that he better wake up and finish the rest of the mana potion and be back to his usual sparkling self by the end of the day or that she would take serious issue with him.

The other two watched on, but Squirt didn’t linger too long.

Instead, she stood, surprised at her own reluctance to leave him.

But it was time.

Squirt paused long enough to give Puds a grateful hug before carefully picking up the basket the Pest had brought and heading out to meet with the others for the mission ahead.

Tobias had been surprised when Jul had arrived to fetch him and a collection of supplies from Braveheart’s personal stores in her house that he’d been stockpiling for her—blazing ant bombs, laughing mushroom powder bombs, and more. He’d been furious to learn of this new plan putting his littlest sister right on the front lines again, and he’d had to shift so that his wolf could run off some of his fury before they reached the gate.

But now, staring at the door to the office, for the first time he hesitated before entering.

Because he could smell it.

Bartos’ musk, Kenna’s sweetness, and both mixed with the heady taste of sex.

In his mind, his wolf whined.

Tobias dropped his eyes. Jul had left him to go rest for the night, the hour already late by the time they’d made it back to the Keep, so now Tobias stood in front of an office door, realizing that the man he’d loved and the sister he supported had managed to finally, finally consummate something fifty years in the making.

Gods, it hurt.

Was this how Telos felt?

He shook that thought from his mind.

He could do this. He should have known this would happen. Bartos wasn’t as inflexible as Tobias in his affections, but Tobias had never seen him with another man even as a dalliance.

Sucking in a breath, he plastered a smile on his face and opened the door. He would be happy for his sister and Lumin, even if it killed him. “Good evening, you two.”

Bartos was seated on a couch wearing only his trousers and a loose shirt not even tucked in. It hung on his frame as he leaned forward, reading over parchment, a package in his other hand. Tobias’ eyes slid across the man’s visible chest through the open neck of the garment.

There had always been something erotic about loose clothes that nudity lacked.

Still, he redirected his thoughts, smiling at Kenna, even if her warm, satisfied smile sent a pang of envy through his chest. “Big news?”

Kenna stood gracefully, the movement failing to draw Bartos’ attention as he frowned down at the page in front of him, but the way her hands lingered, it was clear she attempted to.

Normal Kenna would never interrupt Bartos’ work.

This Kenna was undeterred. She gently pushed the parchment down, drawing Bartos’ eyes up as she murmured, “I’ll go fetch us some dinner from the kitchens. This can wait, don’t you think?”

Bartos sucked in a breath, and Tobias was surprised to see his Lumin, of all things, nervous.

With a gentle tug, Kenna pulled the letter and package from his hands, setting it on the desk before she sauntered towards the door.

Tobias cleared his throat, “Why don’t I—”

“Stay here? Perfect.” Kenna took his elbow and gently tugged him further into the room before moving behind him, pushing him towards the couch by their Lumin. “You two talk, I’ll be back with food.”

And with that, she whirled away with a swish of skirts, closing the door behind her.

Leaving Tobias staring at a nervous Lumin.

Tobias swallowed before laughing lightly. “So, got big news to share with me?”

Mentally, Tobias kicked himself. He knew what the news was. He didn’t want to hear it.

Bartos had his eyes fixated on the floor, wiping his palms on his trousers and nodding. From the angle, Tobias couldn’t see his face.

He shoved his own hurt and envy down, giving his Lumin a pat on the shoulder. “It’s cool, Lumin. I’m not nose-blind. If you’re happy, I’m happy.”

Because he was happy. Envious, yes, but happy.

Bartos shook his head. “That’s…”

“Oh, come on. Don’t let me ruin the happy moment. We’d hardly be the only pack that has a couple of deeper relationships. Bonds are fluid, you know that. Nothing needs to change between us.”

If anything, Bartos’ shoulders only tensed even more, leaving Tobias at a loss, his envy dying in his heart and shriveling to nothing. Was he envious? Yes. But he wasn’t lying, either. Seeing his Lumin open up to anyone, to want anything for himself was still growth, and he was happy for them.

Tobias shifted to kneel down in front of his Lumin, taking the man’s broad shoulders in his hands and ducking his head until their eyes met. More than the hurt of envy, seeing his Lumin looking lost and almost fearful in the moment made his chest ache.

So he did as he always did whenever the world got too bleak for his Lumin—smile.

“It’s okay, Lumin. Besides, we both know Kenna is a catch. And I can’t think of a better person for her than you, even if you are a workaholic.”

A laugh fell from his Lumin’s lips, his head dropping a little. “… there’s just so much to do.”

“Which is why your pack will always be here to support you. I mean, sure, I took on the Chief Hunter role to protect Braveheart, but you know I would take on any role you need me to.”

“Even if I told you to give up that title?”

Tobias paused for only a heartbeat, studying the tension returning to his Lumin’s shoulders. “Absolutely. I go where you go. Always.”

Bartos reached one hand up, covering one of Tobias’s on his shoulder. “I… I haven’t liked these last few months with you away.”

“That’s just because you want someone’s butt to whip at Warlords. Kenna always gives you a run for your money.”

“No, it’s not…” Bartos turned his head away, his brows pinched and lips pressed firmly, that anxious fear back in his eyes. “I… we’ll find someone else to be Chief Hunter.”

“Yes, yes, but later. Ala’ole, as annoyingly persistent as she is about Braveheart, is a good leader. She’ll manage the day-to-day, and I’ll just bring my paperwork here. By the way, I’m thinking that we should move Braveheart’s house. There’s another jewelbird clearing, a bit farther from the Keep, but it should be nice and quiet for her. And this time, I won’t goad Telos into a massive structure.”

Bartos shook his head, dropping it down. “That… was the plan before…”

“Before a hundred dependents got dropped on her?”

He nodded. His hand on Tobias’ squeezed, the nerves returning. Nerves that Tobias instantly misinterpreted.

The gap of understanding between the two men stretched as both wondered what to say.

Tobias floundered. Kenna was the one to talk him through his struggles. He was the one to remind Bartos to have fun and relax, but what relaxing could he get his Lumin to do when Braveheart was leaving on a dangerous mission in the morning? He silently cursed Kenna for leaving. Normally, jokes and laughter came easily to Tobias, but there was something in the air he couldn’t seem to push past.

Bartos’ thumb twitched, and Tobias’ breath caught. The small, simple stroke of a thumb over the back of his hand was enough to make his wolf whine in his soul, to call out the same word his wolf had been screaming for decades.

Mate.

Shifters were instinctual. Their animal halves often chose quickly and loudly, declaring their interest and demanding action until rejection. His had never demanded action, seeming content to wait, to be satisfied with the familial bond of inner pack that Bartos shared with Tobias and Kenna alone.

Bartos opened his mouth, closed it, and then shook his head. His hand covering Tobias’ squeezed a little tighter.

Then, for the first time since Tobias had walked into the office, Bartos lifted his head to stare directly into Tobias’ eyes. Inches apart like they were, Tobias couldn’t help the way his breath caught. His plastered smile trembled and fell, a sense of anxious dread clawing its way up his throat.

And then his Lumin reached with his other hand to touch Tobias’ cheek, the action both meaningful and hesitant. Tobias was frozen in place, his mind blank of quips or jokes when his Lumin murmured, “It’s you I want.”

Tobias’ chest seized as Bartos allowed his emotions to spill over his face. Anxiety, terror, love, and desire all at war across his damned perfect features, saying all the words he was struggling to convey.

His Lumin swallowed before saying in a cracking rasp, “I don’t know what I want, or what future we’ll have, or—”

Tobias breathed out, “Future smuture,” before pressing his lips to Bartos’.

***

On the other side of the door, Kenna smiled warmly, finally hearing the two knuckleheads taking the leap together. Dinner of cold cuts and cheese secured, she waited by the door, giving them the same privacy she had gotten only hours earlier, guarding this quiet moment of peace between them from any interruptions.