Page 111 of May: Bloom & Bane

“There is an unknown male in our marsh,” I say, very reasonably, “and you want to wash us off of you?”

“I want to wash the sticky off of me⁠—”

“The sticky,” I say, “is the point.”

The sticky is the entire point, Ashán agrees. Every drop of it. He will smell us on her from across the meadow and know exactly what she is and exactly whose.

“You’re serious.” She looks between my purple eye, and Ashán’s flickering dark one. “You want me marinating in the two of you like a territorial casserole?”

“Until I have spoken with Therael and know what that male is? Yes.” I pluck a leaf from her still-damp hair and tuck it behind her ear. “You may shower when the marsh is empty. Or when I am back. Whichever comes first.”

“And if I just go shower anyway?”

“Then we will refill you,” Ashán says pleasantly. “Now be our velkíra and stop fighting with us. Please?”

Her cheeks flush scarlet, and she mutters something that sounds like unbelievable and plant husbands and takes the dress from my hand at last.

“Droot and I will not miss you while you’re gone,” she quips as Droot jumps onto her shoulder.

Uh-oh, Droot chirps. The Big Bird and the Big Bony Bird are in big trouble.

“I will be right outside the back door. Okay?”

She rises up on her toes, nowhere near far enough, so I meet her halfway, bending down until her lips reach mine.

“You taste like peaches,” I whisper against her mouth.

“You taste like me.” She smiles.

Vresh, this woman, Ashán groans.

The back door is already opening for me before I reach it. Nook, complicit as ever. I step out into the yard, and I calmly summon my mentor.

“THERAEL!” My voice echoes across the meadow, sending birds scattering from the trees.

Nothing.

“THERAEL, I KNOW YOU CAN HEAR ME!”

A vine shoots up from the ground beside me, wrapping around my calf in an attempt to calm me down. I shake it off.

“I don’t have time for this!” I shout at the empty meadow. “Get down here, or I swear to every god there is I will⁠—”

“Will what, exactly?”

I spin around.

Therael is standing at the edge of the clearing, his arms crossed, looking thoroughly unimpressed. He looks like he’s been standing there the entire time, just waiting to see how long I’d scream.

“There’s a male in the meadow,” I say. “Three souls inside a single stitched body. He was close to Eden⁠—”

“I know.”

“Come again?”

“Of course I know, Sage.” He steps into the clearing. “Did you truly think I was not monitoring your territory with the Horsemen lurking around?”

“Then why didn’t you tell me?”