The manchineel trees in the other two locations had experienced the same changes. Glowing blue veins, the absence of dangerous poison on the surface, the intensifying of the poison within… everything. It was like something had reached out and altered the trees in ways that specifically appealed to it.

  Likely because something had.

  I wasn’t sure whether to be thankful or annoyed that I found no signs of the stag’s presence around the other two areas. On the one hand, I had missed out on potentially invaluable plants. On the other, I still wasn’t sure what the hoofprint meant.

  Had the stag simply been curious, and decided to explore? Had the deaths caused by my plants drawn its attention to that spot? Was the mark it had left behind a sign? A warning?

  I was suddenly reminded of how much I hated dealing with entities of such power. It brought me right back to my days spent at Court, where everyone had to work around the whims of Autumn.

  No one could influence King Oberon’s will. If he made a decision for someone, that person could not resist. If he made a random comment or gesture, everyone leapt to figure out what it meant, hastily trying to align themselves with whatever hint the Season had just given regarding his mood and intentions.

  In this case, I was sincerely hoping the stag wasn’t upset with me, or trying to give me some kind of important message. I was exhausted enough already by the thought of the other presence, the one I’d felt underneath my feet.

  What did it mean for me, to have something so closely aligned with nature lurking about?

  I didn’t even know what to think about what it had done to the manchineel trees. I had considered making an effort to keep them around, but the larger part of me had been in favor of getting rid of them. In their original state, the manchineels posed too great a risk of someone recognizing them and linking them to me.

  At least that risk was well and truly gone.

  Whatever the presence had done, it had rendered the manchineels unrecognizable without thorough inspection. Even then, I highly doubted anyone would link these tree variants to the Belladonna family of the Autumn Court. We had a penchant for making plants more hazardous, not less.

  I suddenly realized I had been pacing around in the clearing, which was newly scoured of mutated stinging nettle. I forced myself to be still.

  Was there anything I could do about the situation? Not really. I could, however, collect samples of this new poison the manchineels were brewing within themselves, and I would do so.

  Firstly, so I could study it. Secondly, so I could enhance my own abilities a little. Ingesting new and exciting poison wasn’t something I used to be keen on, but with all the potential threats in the world, I felt the need to make myself stronger. My daggers would also get a helping of the poison, just in case.

  Beyond that, however… trying anything else could wait.

  I had a very anxious dragoness waiting for me at home. Whether she wanted to or not, we were going to take a break for a while.

  I had been tapped on the nose by some powerful ancient entity, one with presumably far more control over plants than I possessed. That sort of thing required a great deal of cuddles to get over.

  —

  I walked faster and faster, the eagerness to see my dragoness growing as I drew closer to home. Upon reaching it, I threw the door open with a smile.

  That smile faltered at the sight of Alys sitting in her work corner, surrounded by tools. A disassembled chair sat in front of her.

  “Alys, my dear… what in the name of Seasons are you doing?”

  “Hrrrrm? Oh, welcome back,” she muttered, without raising her head. “I’m working on the chair.”

  “Yes, but why? Correct me if I’m wrong, but it was already a perfectly functional chair.”

  “Functional? Yes. Good enough? No,” my dragoness rumbled. Keeping her eyes on her work, she gestured at the pile of parts in front of her. “Look at it!”

  I did. The pieces were just as solid and well-made as the last time I’d seen them. Thanks to the woodworking supplies I’d been producing since my very first day as the town’s alchemist, the wood gleamed with a rich, honey-like color.

  “I am looking.” My tone clearly indicated I had no idea what I was looking for.

  She sputtered, like she couldn’t believe I was making her explain. “It’s not good enough. It isn’t even decorated properly.”

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  I peeked at the piece she was working on. Stunningly detailed engravings of dragons wound around it in various poses, each more complex than the last. The sheer care and skill required to make them was breathtaking.

  And entirely too time-consuming, judging by the very small pile of completed parts I now spotted next to my dragoness.

  I looked around. Only a single chair had been fully altered, with all its coating and treatments reapplied.

  Now, I might not have been gone for long, but I had also spent most of my day on my required daily work for the sake of the town’s upkeep. Alys had thrown me out the second I was done with that, in the early hours of the afternoon.

  If she had spent the entire day on that single chair, then my dragoness was definitely overthinking a tad too much.

  After all, she had managed to produce enough furniture to outfit ‘my’ entire half of our home in about a week, some truly beautiful engravings included. The shelves in the shop portion alone were impressive works of art. Yet now it took her an entire day to handle a single chair?

  I scoffed, which finally made her look at me.

  “What?” I asked in response to her narrow-eyed glare.

  “Don’t scoff at me,” she rumbled. “Why are you scoffing at me?”

  “How do you know it’s you I scoffed at to begin with?”

  “I just do. Call it instinct for sensing my mate’s nonsense.”

  “Ah. I must trigger that particular instinct a lot.”

  For the first time since she had learned her grandmother would be visiting, a smile tugged on Alys’ features. It faded far too quickly for my liking.

  “You didn’t answer my question,” she stated with a scowl.

  I sighed, then waded into the mess. Ignoring some displeased rumbles on her part, I pushed aside tools and chair parts so I could settle down right next to her.

  “I can’t work like this, Thorn,” she grumbled as I wrapped my arm around her shoulders.

  “Good. You don’t need to be doing this anyway, Alys. Your work is amazing. Even when you don’t bother to decorate it, it’s some of the highest quality woodworking I’ve ever seen.”

  “Some of?” she demanded dangerously, threatening flames dancing within her scales.

  “I am from the Autumn Court, my dragoness. Do you want me to lie to you?” When she shook her head, I went on, “The fact that your work can compare to the best I’ve seen there is the highest praise I can offer you. Where I am from, there are masters of the craft who have not only spent far too many mortal generations practicing, but who can grow their creations into whatever shape they want.”

  “That… sounds amazing.” She stared at the flames flickering over her now-empty hands. “My abilities are not that helpful for my work.”

  I scoffed one more time, forgetting that I was now within elbowing range. My dragoness immediately took advantage of that to bruise my ribs.

  “Ow. Stop that, cruel dragon!” Shifting a little, I felt the ache fading quickly… but not as quickly as I was used to.

  Another aspect of losing Autumn’s grace until the Season rolled around again. I wanted to complain about that, and briefly wondered what other ‘nice’ surprises I would discover before then, but now was not the time.

  I refocused on my dragoness.

  “Alys, your flames are extremely useful. I’ve seen how they help you shape logs and add detail to your carvings. They speed up the drying process of coatings and treatments. Not to mention the fact that you used them to build an entire extra building for our home.”

  I squeezed her shoulder. “Just because you can’t grow a chair doesn’t mean you won’t be able to make a better chair eventually. Keep in mind, I am talking about masters who have lived longer than your grandmother, and you are already comparable to most of them.”

  I’d made a small mistake by mentioning her grandmother. I realized this when her hands impulsively reached for the chair piece she’d been working on. Thankfully, she drew them back quickly and turned her attention to the last part of my statement.

  “Comparable to ‘most’ of them? Not all of them?”

  “No. I’m sorry, but I did say I wouldn’t lie to you.” I hugged her tighter. “I ran away from the Autumn Court, yes, but not because the place wasn’t pretty. I took many things for granted back then. They were just normal for me. But now, upon reflection…”

  I trailed off, unsure how to put into words some of the sights from my home.

  Fae always were, and always would be, creatures of nature. For that reason, we didn’t break reality over our knees in the manner of certain mage cities I’d read about. Yet the creations of powerful fae could be no less awe-inspiring or beautiful, and I had beheld many such creations in person.

  Autumn’s personal garden came to mind immediately. The place was so vibrant, so rich in life and painted in all the colors of the Season, that it was more akin to an idealized dream than reality.

  I distinctly remembered walking the paths as a child, a special treat not even Autumn’s closest courtiers got to indulge in too often. Birds sang in perfect chorus, each one eager to please the King of the Autumn Court and his visitors. Various animals wandered throughout the space, so very thankful and affectionate every time I offered them a piece of fruit or a similar treat.

  In retrospect, I realized none of those animals dared to claim the bounties of the garden without permission. This was a somewhat cruel twist to a cherished childhood memory. At the time, I had been blissfully unaware of it.

  Setting aside these complicated feelings, I tried to focus on the beauty of the place in my memory. This was done with almost frightening ease. I remembered how flowers cupped their overflowing nectar, spilling fragrant drops of it on the softest grass imaginable. Boughs of trees bent down as shrubs shifted to reach for me. Vines tried to wind around my questing fingers. All offered their bounty, be it fruit or berries or whatever else they produced, like servants eager for my attention.

  I recounted all of that to Alys, and more. I did my best to recall sights she would have been fascinated with herself, or feats of woodworking she would be eager to outdo. As excellent as my memory was, however, I couldn’t conjure up memories of things I’d never gone looking for in the first place. Woodworking had hardly been a priority for me back then, sadly.

  Yet the way her eyes lit up told me I had still given her plenty of inspiration. More importantly, my dragoness was settling down. I felt her muscles unwinding as tension left her shoulders.

  My little ruse had worked. From how tired she suddenly looked, in spite of her rapt attention, I didn’t think I would have trouble tricking her into taking a little nap before dinner. Once she was rested, and hopefully in a better mood, I could work on getting her to see that there was no reason to panic over a simple family visit.

  For her, that is.

  However calm I was pretending to be, there was absolutely nothing to be done about my nerves at the prospect of meeting The Molten Expanse… and then telling her I was now mated to her granddaughter.