“You are overreacting,” Alys said bluntly.

  “No. No, I am not! You can’t just dismiss powerful nature spirits, Alys. You were there with me. You saw it!”

  “Yes, I did. And unless I’m remembering wrong, the spirit didn’t actually give you that flower. You found it after the spirit passed,” she pointed out reasonably, not even stopping her work.

  Her hands steamed in the cold air as she ran them over the log she was preparing. A gust of wind whined through her open-air workshop, and I shuddered for a reason that had nothing to do with ancient nature spirits. I had rushed out of my lab without thinking to put on any more layers, and every breeze sent stabs of cold straight into my chest.

  “The spirit did not hand the flower to me itself, no…” I hesitated, then let out a misting puff of pure exasperation before collapsing onto the log she was using as a seat and sidling right up to her.

  “Oi,” my dragoness hissed, shifting slightly to maintain her rhythm. “Do not press yourself against me like that while I’m working!”

  “But you are warm, and I am stressed,” I argued. Straddling the log, I wrapped my arms around her and slipped my hands under her clothes, right against her scales. It was a bit tricky, since leather armor can be rather inflexible, but I didn’t care. I just sighed in relief as my hands started to thaw.

  “I am stressed, too,” she grumbled.

  “I know. We can switch, if you like? You can have my stress over the spirits, and I’ll take on your stress over the family visit. Clearly, you don’t care about the former, so it can only make you feel better.”

  I snickered at her deepening scowl.

  The joke was on her, because I actually could do such a thing. Stealing the names of those soldiers from the Hergeiros family had given me a much deeper understanding of, and appreciation for, my natural abilities. If I wanted, I could literally take on Alys’ emotional burdens.

  I wouldn’t, of course. That would involve making a fae-ish deal with my wife, and even stealing her name.

  It might be fun, however, to exercise my talents on some random strangers in the future… If only it didn’t involve such a risk of revealing my identity.

  “You know, I really thought I’d be able to work today. We need to get back into the rhythm we had before,” my dragoness groused, though she made no move to get me to stop cuddling her.

  “Well, I was working. I told you what happened.”

  “You mean you got so scared of a flower that you had to run to me to complain?”

  This did sting a bit. Of course, my exaggerated pouting aside, I could admit that I already felt much better.

  Perhaps I had spiraled a bit after discovering the flower’s properties. When my growing worry slammed into the wall of Alys’ composure, it hadn’t shattered entirely, but it now contained enough cracks that I could push it down and lock it away.

  My dragoness finally took a break from steaming all the moisture out of the log and ran her fingers through my hair. I pressed a little closer. Her touch was on the very edge of being too hot, but it didn’t hurt me. The air was so cold that I savored the ribbons of warmth spreading through my scalp.

  “I hate dealing with things that powerful,” I grumbled quietly into her shoulder. “Even when you get something useful out of the encounter, it just leaves you feeling insignificant and vulnerable. I don’t like feeling that way, Alys.”

  “I don’t understand that very well,” she admitted. “The only person I know who could be compared to that stag is my grandmother, and she is family.”

  “It’s just…” I paused, fumbling for words.

  My thoughts inevitably turned towards Autumn. The King of my Court was magnificent, yes. He could command attention without lifting a finger. At the same time, I always felt like a mouse in his presence, existing only at the forbearance of some wild, massive thing that could swallow me up in a single bite.

  I couldn’t understand how some fae were actually willing to challenge the Seasons for power and authority. All such attempts resulted in failure, of course, but the sheer fact that people were still vain and stupid enough to try boggled the mind. I had merely run away from my duties, and I wouldn’t wish to encounter Autumn ever again.

  “Imagine that you are looking at the sun, and it’s not far away in the sky,” I explained. “All its heat and light are right in front of you. It can burn you into ashes on a whim, but it doesn’t, so you are stuck waiting for the moment it decides it doesn’t want to endure your presence anymore.”

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  “That doesn’t sound nice,” Alys said sympathetically. “I kind of get that, at least. Grandmother could be frightening when I annoyed her enough.”

  I felt, for the briefest of moments, incredible jealousy. It had never been possible for me to annoy my grandparents. My father’s parents were gone, and my mother’s had supposedly been cut off. Yet even if I’d had the chance and acted on it, I didn’t think I would have gotten away without severe consequences. Permanent scars would have been the best-case scenario.

  And here my dragoness was, casually saying she had annoyed The Molten Expanse and been perfectly fine afterwards.

  Of course, I immediately felt guilty for bearing even a hint of such feelings against my own spouse. The sliver of jealousy evaporated before it had the slightest chance to harden into resentment.

  I still decided it was best to change the subject.

  “You know what the worst part of the whole thing is?” I asked, moving so I was hugging her against my chest. She grumbled, but adjusted accordingly.

  “What?”

  “I need to return to those manchineel trees and discover if they can grow together with the flowers. I have a cutting now which seems to be stable. I can try transplanting that, or I could convert one of the other flowers on the main plant into another cutting… I’m probably going to do that anyway, actually. I need to get those flowers growing if I want to use them as ingredients without sacrificing access to them forever. And seeing as I’m fairly certain they are unique…”

  “You need to get them to grow,” she filled in for me.

  “Exactly. Which means I need to get the odd flower created by one spirit to play nice with the trees mutated by a second spirit. And I don’t know what either of the spirits is doing or planning. I only know they are both powerful and deeply rooted in nature.” I released another exasperated huff. “What… joy.”

  “You can do it,” Alys insisted. “And if you can’t, I’ll help. They’re both tied to plants, right?”

  “Yes… I think. The stag obviously is, but I couldn’t classify the second presence as anything but ‘nature.’ It was far too pure and powerful.”

  “If they decide to mess with us, we’ll just sort out the problem at the source,” my dragoness growled, eyeing the forest balefully.

  It took me a moment to grasp her full meaning. When I did, I drew in a sharp breath.

  “Alys… you can’t just burn down the forest.”

  “Why not?”

  She was genuinely asking, I realized. All she saw was someone, or rather something, potentially threatening her mate. If it proved to be a problem, it would have to go.

  Truly, she was descended from The Molten Expanse.

  I was touched, but…

  “Because it’s far too vast. This forest stretches over a good portion of the wilds, from what I saw on the maps. If you set it ablaze, we have no idea how far that fire would spread.”

  I wasn’t implying that the whole forest would burn down. There were plenty of powerful spirits and creatures out there who would protect their domains and prevent that from happening.

  The problem was that all of said creatures would then be rather upset with us.

  “Fine,” my dragoness rumbled, after taking a moment to consider my argument. Her hands continued to shape the log and finalize its transformation into suitable building material. “But I don’t think my grandmother would hesitate.”

  Her tone was joking, which I took as a good sign. There was still tension in her voice. I did not believe a single conversation and some cuddling had fixed her confidence issues and banished her apprehension about her grandmother’s impending visit. Yet I found it encouraging that she had made the joke at all.

  Of course, considering her grandmother’s record, it wasn’t a joke. It was a fact. Just ask the dwarves who tried to ‘reclaim’ the treasure Shaessath had added to her hoard over the years.

  “Now,” Alys rumbled, “you’ve complained, and I’ve calmed you down. It’s time for you to go back to work.”

  “Already tired of me?”

  “Yes.”

  I gasped theatrically, clutching at my chest like I’d been stabbed through the heart. Then I laughed and scrambled away as she squirmed out of my grasp and poked my forehead threateningly, just once.

  I had learned not to disobey Alys when she was in a poking sort of mood, unless I had a very good reason. Draconic claws were not to be underestimated. I knew how easily those things could slide right through my skin.

  “I’m going,” I assured her, backing off with my hands raised. “I will bring one of the flowers along when I’m done for the day. I think you’re going to like them.”

  This earned me a warm smile, which helped shield me from the cold as I ran back inside.

  I was immensely thankful for all the work Alys did to keep both halves of our home comfortably warm. By the time I slipped into my lab, which was hotter still thanks to my work, the bite of Winter had fled me entirely.

  It left only a duller bite behind, one of quiet anxiety that spilled through my thoughts like ink stains every time I looked at the stupid flowers.

  That didn’t mean I wouldn’t use them.

  They were far too suitable for my current needs. And while I would certainly proceed with care, making sure their effects contained no hidden traps waiting to ensnare my dragoness, I couldn’t turn away from a resource that potent.

  In fact, I prepared another box and cut a second flower. I then began nurturing the main plant with my mana, watching as it underwent the same transformation as the cuttings.

  The main plant shone even more intensely than its offspring. The inner petals were bright enough to pass for a mortal facsimile of the sun. As for its properties, their sheer potency overwhelmed me.

  Whatever initial magic or nutrients the spirit had poured into the plant had clearly gone into strengthening the main flower. I decided to keep the main plant carefully healthy, so I could use it in the final iteration of the potion I prepared for Alys. Unless, of course, I managed to raise a more impressive specimen, which I resolved to attempt.

  I could trust something I grew by my own hand far more than a random gift from a nature spirit, no matter how even-tempered that spirit had seemed in its passing.

  Perhaps Alys was right, and I was overreacting. Perhaps my instincts as a fae were simply getting the best of me and making me see things that weren’t there. Regardless, I was determined to take every possible precaution.

  I paused when my work was done, now with three separate enchanting plants before me, and considered what I should do next.

  There was no reasonable excuse to avoid testing out my theory. If the flowers could form a symbiotic relationship with the mutated manchineel, then things would be much easier for me in the long run. I could not lose such an advantage out of fear.

  With a reluctant sigh, I fetched a relatively warm cloak, gathered up what I would need, and bravely headed outside.