A Dream of Fate & Flesh (Courts of Malice #2)

26. Feckin’ Moonberries

twenty-six

Feckin’ Moonberries

Alessia

I jolt, gasping for breath. My eyes are slow to open, weighted with crust, and my vision is blurry. Gone is the comfort of the dream. Instead, sharp pain shoots through my gut, a fire consuming me whole.

“It hurts,” I say, my voice raspy. “Rainer?”

As my vision returns, Eoin stands above me, hands hovering over my stomach. When he presses down, the pain sends white spots through my line of sight.

“What happened in there? You stabbed yourself?” There’s an edge to his voice. “I told Ezamae that you had no business in there! Humans don’t belong in the—”

“I don’t know,” I mutter.

“—Cave of Reflection! It made you go crazy. You hurt yourself. You would’ve died if I hadn’t gone in there to look for you.”

Slowly, a new, more comforting warmth spreads across my skin. The pain grows duller, and my breaths grow deeper. My senses begin to sharpen as the adrenaline lessens.

My gaze moves from Eoin to the cave, but there’s only regular dirt and rocks rather than the mirrathyst stone.

Where are we?

Ezamae watches from a few feet away, a deep line on his forehead. It’s the only wrinkle I’ve seen on that porcelain face. When he notices I’m staring, his face smooths back out, and he begins pacing.

The last of the ache subsides as Eoin sucks in a sharp breath, his teeth clenching. He falls back, clutching his abdomen. “Shite!”

All I can do is watch helplessly, knowing that the pain will pass through him reasonably quickly. He grunts a few times, and sweat beads on his brow. After a few seconds, his body relaxes, and he sits up.

“What the hell happened in there?” he says, features pinched with something akin to anger.

“Glad to see you’re alive,” I say, still weighed by the guilt of seeing myself practically murder him.

“Me? You’re the one who almost died!”

I wince, covering my ears. “Stop yelling.”

My head throbs with thirst. I don’t know where to begin, what to tell him.

Sitting up, I say, “I think I was stabbed.”

“No shite.” He wipes his bloodied hands on his cloak. There’s a stain on his arm where he absorbed my other wound. “You’re human . You have no business in there.”

I sigh and stand. He might have helped me again, but he opened his mouth and reminded me of one of the many reasons I despise him.

“You should’ve—” Eoin’s mouth continues to move, but a soft breeze kisses my skin, silencing the air.

I glance at Ezamae, who offers me a wink.

I return a grateful smile.

“Drink.” Ez drops to his knees between me and a fire, thrusting a canteen toward me .

As I chug, my eyes flick around the space. Darkness peers in from the cave’s entrance beyond our makeshift beds and a small fire.

How much time has passed?

Once the canteen is half empty, I set it aside.

“The environment is much more conducive to healing without his pestering,” Ez says. “You would think a healer would know better.”

I laugh for a second, but a flash of Eoin in the infirmary flits back to me, and the laughter dies on my lips. How am I any better than them if I use him for his power and treat him poorly?

He’s done things that might warrant it, but it doesn’t make me feel any better to cause him harm in return. It’s not my place to do so.

Dizziness ricochets through my skull, and my hands shoot out, stabilizing myself on the ground.

Ez’s gaze tracks the movement, and his smile fades.

“You should get some rest. You lost a lot of blood.” He clears his throat. “Eoin is an arse, but you’re lucky he went in when he did.”

The last thing I want to do is get rest, but he’s right. If we stand a chance at getting Rainer, I need to be at my prime. Rainer mentioned we have two weeks until his fate is decided. Every second counts, but there’s no sense in rushing to him prematurely if my body needs to recover. Getting further injured will not do anyone any good.

As much as I hate to admit it, we can afford a day of rest.

“I’ll be back later,” Ezamae says.

He disappears in the blink of an eye. The air shimmers, and Eoin’s voice immediately refills the cave, startling me .

“—what I’m talking about!” he yells.

Groaning, I clutch my head.

“Yes, you’re right,” I say, wanting him to be quiet. There’s no way I’m asking him to heal me any more than he already has. At least I’m alive. Now it’s up to me to rest off the rest. I nuzzle into the blanket, closing my eyes and letting the exhaustion take me over.

When I wake again, my body is lighter. I open my eyes and stifle a yawn. Eoin is standing over me, an odd look on his face.

My mind is sharp, and the memories of the shadow-spirit in the Cave of Reflection return to me.

“Thirsty?” Eoin smirks, waggling my canteen in the air between us.

“Yes.” I reach for it, and he chuckles as he passes it to me.

I guzzle it down, desperate to relieve the raw ache in my throat. When I’m finished, a sweet aftertaste lingers on my tongue.

“Where is Ez?” I ask.

“He had court responsibilities to tend to.” Eoin stands, heading to the opposite side of the fire.

I glance away, hating that we need the fire to survive. I’d be happy never to see flames again. I shudder at the new memories.

My parents.

Char.

The expression on my face as I watched Eoin burn.

No. I close my eyes, taking a breath to ground myself.

I wanted to talk to Rainer about it all last night and confide in him, but that’s not fair of me. He’s in his own colossal trouble, and if he knew everything I was going through, it would only cause him to worry. There’s nothing he can do to help right now, so I should wait to tell him until he’s free.

My eyes flick back to the night beyond the cave’s entrance. “How long was I out?”

“The whole day.” Eoin tosses rocks out of the entrance, one by one, aiming for some imaginary target. “You lost a lot of blood.”

“You healed me.” The agony in my stomach is long gone, not even a dull ache lingering.

“I did.” He sighs.

I nod, at a loss for what to say other than thank you . He might be a shite, but he could’ve easily let me die. He could’ve returned my body to Dovenak for a chance to mend the border issue and win the faerie queen’s favor.

The fact he didn’t speaks volumes about his intention. It’s not enough to get me to trust him, but it does soften me slightly. He doesn't want me dead, which counts for something.

A few minutes of silence pass. The fire wavers between us, the flames dancing to a silent beat. My head grows woozy as I chuckle to myself. Following the flame’s rhythm, I begin tapping the ground.

“What the hell are you doing?” Eoin murmurs.

“Making music,” I say, my voice too high-pitched. I burst into giggles and shove my face into the blanket to muffle them. “Whoa, this blanket is coarse as feck. ”

I toss the wool blanket aside, snatching up my cloak instead. I nuzzle it, my skin prickling with pleasure at the softness. “It’s like a rabbit’s arse,” I murmur. “So darn soft.”

Eoin stares at me with a smug smile. “Did you hit your head, too? Did I miss that?”

“It tickles. The air is tickling me.” I close my eyes, letting the warmth of the fire walk up and down my skin, like pixie wings fluttering against my flesh.

I hear Eoin shuffle as he drags himself closer. “Your lips are… blueish,” he says. There’s a weird, light edge to his voice that I can’t name. “Did you eat some berries by chance?”

My eyes fly open. He smugly raises his brows, and I recoil.

“Oh shite!” My hand flies up, covering my mouth.

The moonberries in the canteen! I chuckle harder. This is not supposed to be so funny, but by the Gods, I double over in hysterical laughter.

“It’s a highly inappropriate time to get stoned,” he deadpans.

“They were for you!” I blurt out. “I was going to drug you to lure out your honesty.” I pick up the canteen with berries and chuck it at Eoin. It misses by a good margin. “Someone filled it up!”

“Oh, did they now?” His lips tilt into a cocky grin. “Looks like you fecked up, eh?”

“It was you, wasn’t it?” I search the ground for something else to throw at him. I locate a rock—it’s such a cute little rock. The edges are so smooth, and it’s so perfectly grey, like a—

“Your little plan failed,” he taunts.

My head whips back up, and I toss the rock in his direction. It misses again, and I break out into laughter. “You should drink some anyway.”

“Feck that,” he says.

My arms stretch out wide at my sides. “Don’t be a bunion!”

“Did you just call me a… nevermind.” He sighs and shakes his head. “You’re acting like a faeling.”

“Faeling,” I repeat, the word tickling my ears.

“A child,” he says flatly.

To my surprise, he steps over to the abandoned canteen I failed to hit him with. He snatches it and holds it up like a peace offering. Wordlessly, he brings it up to his lips and takes a few deep swigs.

I snort a laugh and clap. “Berry good choice.”

He rolls his eyes, wiping his mouth with his hands. His lips are a faint purplish blue, and I’m sure they match mine.

“I was not about to stay sober with you acting…” He waves a hand toward me. “Like this .”

“Join the party.” I giggle. “You like parties.”

He shrugs. “It might make our journey a little more interesting.” He plops down beside me, gazing into the fire. “I suppose I have nothing to hide, either.”

“You gave me the canteen on purpose,” I say.

“Of course.” He snorts.

I stare at him, chuckling at his stupidity. “Why would you do such a thing?”

“I was merely trying to fill up your water for you. Imagine my surprise when I noticed you had stuffed the damn berries into your canteen.” He shakes his head, eyes twinkling with amusement. “I am not too dense to understand your goal with that.”

“Perhaps you deserve much worse for what you’ve done to us.”

Quickly, the laughter subsides .

“You mean that.” Eoin studies me. His eyes blaze to life in the firelight. Something akin to sorrow fills his features. “Do you really believe that?” he whispers. “That I deserve bad things?”

My lips move before I can stop them. “Sometimes.”

The answer shocks me, the raw honesty coaxed out by the berries. I take a moment to sift through my surface feelings, trying to understand where that came from.

Part of me believes he deserves a terrible fate for what he’s done, but I also can’t help but account for his desire to make things right. The more I learn about Eoin, the more I realize he’s not evil-hearted, just misguided.

The image of him being talked down to in the infirmary flits through my mind. That sense of camaraderie courses through me as I rub where my wound was earlier—now fully healed.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Have at it,” he says, his tone light again.

“Do you like healing?”

He raises his brows in surprise, watching me silently for a few beats. “No one has ever asked me that before,” he murmurs. Bending his legs, he draws his knees into his chest and rests his head on them.

I study his profile, noting how… human he looks now. Besides his sharp ears and unrealistic beauty, of course.

“Folk use me for my magic...” He pauses like he wants to say more, but he doesn’t.

The fire grows brighter, caressing my skin like a warm hug. It’s too much and not enough all at once. I want to close my eyes and lie back, revel in this moment.

But I want to hear what Eoin has to say more .

“Go on,” I encourage, nudging him with my foot.

“Healing is all I know how to do,” he says contemplatively. “Many see me as a tool to numb their pains and relieve their sorrows. Sometimes, I stifle inconvenient emotions. Other times, I burden the soul-shaking pains that threaten to steal lives.”

I frown. The dark words don’t match the lightness of his mood, but I know that’s probably the moonberries softening their meaning.

“I can’t imagine how difficult that must be,” I say.

“Physical wounds are easier to heal from. The skin can heal itself. The body can repair. But emotional wounds linger. They burrow into the mind and heart and stay there. And those? They’re not so easy to mend.”

He glances away as if he’s embarrassed. It’s perhaps the most real and vulnerable I’ve ever seen him.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, though it probably doesn’t mean much to him.

"Of course you are, human." I wince at his words, but he smiles at this, glancing at me. “When I met you, you didn’t look at me like the others did—like I was a servant, or worse, like a drug.”

“I found you rather pleasant,” I admit. “Before you turned out to be an arse.”

A laugh bubbles out of him. “It was never personal, Alessia. And I never intended to hurt you by using my magic on you.” He runs a hand over his hair, shaking his head. “It was automatic for me—taking your ailments. I guess I’m just so used to the folk around me not wanting to feel that I thought…”

“It’s okay.” I rest a hand on his arm and squeeze. A few seconds go by, and I pull back .

“Before you, Sennah was my only friend,” he murmurs. “And I do whatever I can to make my friends’ lives easier.”

Friend .

I don’t know what to say to that. I might not hate him, especially not at this moment, but we’re far from friends. I can forgive him for his missteps with me, but I’m not ready to forgive him for what he’s done to Rainer.

“Friends don’t betray each other,” I say.

Confusion flits across his face. “Don’t they?”

I gape at him, waiting for him to laugh at the joke. When he stares at me blankly, I snort. “Wait—you’re serious.”

My mind is much too clear suddenly, and the moonberries are wearing off faster than the last time I took them—likely since they were diluted in water.

“I liked going to Rainer’s,” he mumbles as he lies back in the dirt with his arms crossed behind him. “I was someone other than Prince Eoin there.”

“Is that why you tried to get rid of him?”

A dusting of pink lines Eoin’s cheeks. “It wasn’t personal. I thought perhaps I could be… more. If only I could rule a court of my own.”

“You can’t just steal someone else’s, Eoin!” I slap my forehead dramatically. “Umbra Court was never meant to be yours .”

“I know that.” He sits up and shushes me. His eyes are glossed over, and amusement plays on his lips. “Listen.”

I strain my ears but only hear the crackle of the fire.

“Hear what?” I ask.

“Exactly.” He lies back, chuckling. “It’s so peaceful here.”

“Leaving your court more often might be good for you.”

“I’m afraid.”

My eyes widen at the candid admission. “Of what?”

He sits back up, gesturing wildly around us. “Everything! Leaving puts me at risk. There’s a lot of ways one might injure themselves out here.”

“Why are you afraid of getting hurt if you can heal?”

He shakes his head. “It’s not that. It’s that I’m constantly wondering about all the ways the folk around me could get hurt—how exhausting it would be to heal.”

I frown. “But you do that at home anyway, so what’s the difference?”

He hmms to himself as he seems to consider my question. “That’s the thing about our anxieties, eh? They are often ridiculous, and we know that logically, yet we still let them hold us back.”

My head tilts to the side as I contemplate his words. “Well, how about afterward? How do you feel after you heal?” I ask softly.

A silence stretches between us.

“Empty,” he says finally. “Like an empty shell of myself.”

I wait for guilt to hit me, knowing that he just healed my significant wounds, but only a soft buzz of contentment sits beneath my skin instead, the last effects of the moonberries stifling my negative emotions.

“Pass me that?” I gesture to the canteen. Suddenly, I’m not high enough for this conversation. A delighted look crosses his face as he reaches for it and tosses it at me. I take a few hearty chugs of the sweet water and pass it back to him.

He finishes it off and tosses the canteen down.

“Why don’t the fae you heal just do moonberries instead?” I waggle a brow.

He snorts. “Oh, they do. It’s just never enough. It’s a distraction, not a cure.”

I think of the lord and lady and their opulent feasts and debauched parties, fueled by flowing liquor and roaming hands.

The humans always wanted more . More food. More drink. More sex. More power.

I laugh at the absurdity. “Humans and fae have more in common than I once thought.”

The fire pops, making me jump.

“So, what did you see in the Cave of Reflection?” Eoin asks a moment later.

“I saw Char!” My heart flutters. As the new wave of high washes over me, my head grows lighter, soaring into the skies. The effects seem to hit me a little harder after the second round. “And I saw me. And you! You were there!”

“Do tell me, why in Mother’s tits did you stab yourself?”

“Mother’s tits?” The laughter pours out of me. “You can’t say that.”

“Can’t I?”

“No. It’s abysmal!”

“You didn’t answer me,” he says.

“I told you, I—” The words lodge in my throat. “I didn’t mean to.”

Wait.

No, that’s wrong. I didn’t stab myself.

I got stabbed by the shadow.

Except… no, that’s not right either.

I open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out, and the berries prevent me from telling a lie. Even through the delirious fog of joy and comfort, I sense something… wrong .

“I don’t understand what happened,” I say, settling on a truth.

“Who stabbed you?” he repeats sternly.

“I stabbed myself.” I gasp, hands flying up. I shake my head. “I don’t understand.”

“Walk me through it.”

I rub the cloak against my face, distracting myself with the softness. “There was a shadow that looked like Char. Then it looked like me. And it told me to embrace it. Then I tried to stab it, but I was the one who got injured.”

He jumps to his feet, a weird look tightening his features. “Impossible.”

“Not impossible.” I double over with laughter. Why does he look like that? His face is so red and pinchy. “Do you have to take a poo?”

“No, Alessia, I do not have to shite!”

“I do.”

“Oh my Gods.” He groans, tilting his head back to stare at the cave’s ceiling.

“We can blame the moonberries.” Like a little birdie, I lay down, snuggling into the little nest that Ezamae made for me.

So soft.

“Moonberries don’t make you have to shite.” He stares at me like I have three heads, and I double over with laughter.

"No, but eating does."

He chews his lip, looking past me as I writhe with giggles.

“You’re just a feckin’ human," he finally says, ignoring my commentary. "You shouldn’t have been presented with trials."

“You're still caught up on that? Yes, Eoin, I faced my trials, and I—” The word passed sticks in my throat again. I passed . "I—"

Why can’t I say it?

It can’t possibly be a lie. I fought the darkness. I won. Didn’t I?

I try again, saying, “I failed my trial.” Jolting up, I clap a hand over my mouth. “Eoin, I failed my trial!”

Confusion swarms me, disrupting my high.

Stroking his chin, he continues to mutter. “As a human, you shouldn’t have been able to—”

“I’m not even human,” I say, feeling lighter at the admission.

“—partake in trials in the Cave.”

“Eoin!” I yell. My voice echoes through the cave. It does the trick. His attention snaps to me. “Your head is so red it looks like it will explode! Oh, and I’m not human, so stop saying that.”

He snaps his mouth shut.

“I’m half-fae!” Not a lie. It is not the whole truth, but luckily, the word demon stays anchored inside me. “I’m fae .”

Saying aloud while under the influence of moonberries makes it feel a thousand times more real. It is the truth, and the last bits of denial float away.

“I’m one of you!” I say. Covering my mouth with a hand, I giggle.

“You… what?” He hangs his head with a heavy sigh. After a few moments of processing, he blinks at me, brows raising to his hairline. “Feck, that makes sense—you’re a changeling.”

He stands, pacing and muttering to himself. There’s no sense in correcting him—I’d rather he think I’m a changeling than know the full truth.

“I need to use the… bushes.” Without giving him a chance to respond, I step into the night. I shiver as the night air penetrates my skin like a thousand sewing needles. I should’ve brought the cloak.

The dark night shapes of the trees and mountains loom around me, taunting me and beckoning me to explore. My body hums with awareness, drawn to the shadows.

Focus, Alessia.

Staying close to the cave, I find a decent spot. I relieve myself, clean up in a nearby stream, then head back into the cave.

When I reenter, Eoin stands.

“The Aer Prince popped in with food. Here.” He tosses me a linen-wrapped item.

I catch it awkwardly, nearly losing my balance in the process. Its warmth seeps through the cloth. “And where is he?”

He shrugs. “He said he’ll be back soon.”

I unwrap the linen, revealing a delicious-looking chunk of meat. The same kind Ez brought us previously. I take a massive bite, groaning as the flavor bursts across my tongue.

Eoin watches me with a blank expression. He glances down at his meal with a grimace.

“If you don’t want it, I’ll eat it,” I say through a mouthful.

“You’re a little oafish,” he says. “Bless Rainer.”

I bark a laugh. “What do you mean by that?” I can't say I feel insulted if it’s supposed to be an insult. “Are you calling me stupid?”

He shakes his head, peeling a piece of meat off and eating it gingerly. “Uncultured,” he says after he swallows. “Perhaps you two were meant to be. I’m not sure you’re my type, after all.”

“Let me guess…” I take another massive bite, reveling in the tender, moist texture. I chew it all before saying, “You prefer your females docile, pretty little things with soft hands and softer voices? ”

“No!” He snorts, offended. “I prefer them… well, not as unpredictable and infuriating as you.” He clears his throat, flushing as he turns away. “Unpredictability makes me uncomfortably anxious—it’s why fae like Ezamae irritate me.”

“Oh Eoin…” I swallow heavily. “I like you more when you’re being yourself,” I admit. “But can you stop killing my buzz?”

He’s significantly less annoying to me right now. But once the high fades and the reality comes crashing in, I can’t promise I’ll like him at all.

Feckin’ moonberries.