Lust, Lies and Promises.

By Jennifer Crowfoot

In this sequel to TAINTED MAGIC, Morcane Le Gris, must venture to unfamiliar lands to rescue the ones most dearest to him. Unfortunately, this time his foe is ultimately his most powerful yet, and it takes some very ancient and potent magic to even out the playing field.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jennifer Crowfoot
• Release date: Apr 7, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301884179

Jennifer Crowfoot

Married, Jennifer lives with her husband and her spoilt, feline fur-baby, Hades, in beautiful rural N.S.W, Australia.When not writing, Jennifer can be found with her nose buried in a book.She also has a collection of self-published books on Amazon.? ? ?

Book preview

Chapter 1. Reminiscing.

Gazing out through the window into the darkness beyond Eammonn-tui smiled broadly and humming a nonsensical tune he stepped away and lifting his hem he did a quick jig. It had been nearly two full moon-cycles since he’d slipped into the human’s world and during this time he hadn’t sensed the presence of a single warrior of Morcane Le Gris’s Fey Guards, nor the Goddess herself. But he was neither stupid nor naïve, he knew this was only the lull before the tempest arrived, so he didn’t allow himself to get too complacent.

The winged-creatures are too stupid, or too spineless to come and seek me out, and the Goddess is apparently too busy to bother, he muttered rubbing his hands together.

The one fly in the ointment, he hated it here it was too hot, but the sticky situation back in Amareth had made moving house an unavoidable necessity. At the time he’d been lacking in suitable hiding places and this had been his only option on such short notice.

Pursing his lips he combed his long fingernails through his scruffy beard as he realised that he hadn’t been in a strong enough position at the time to face the Goddess, or her powerful half-Fayre abomination Queen Killane, wife of Morcane. But he’d known they’d come; it was only a matter of time. The Goddess would never have looked kindly on him for aiding the King’s brother -- the damaged Olaf -- in his ridiculous plan.

As a rule he’d neither cared for, nor about, the business of the Fayres. As far as he was concerned, they were bland ridiculous non-entities that through no choice of his own he had to share a world with, but studiously avoided. And until Olaf had come seeking him out, he’d managed to do just that.

He frowned as he remembered their meeting.

Whether from curiosity, or just plain boredom -- he still wasn’t sure -- he’d listened to his plan but after revealing the price for his aid he’d fully expected to be laughed at, his price too high to pay. But to his surprise, and he freely admitted to himself grudging respect, Olaf hadn’t hesitated in agreeing to his terms and the deal was brokered. He’d conjured up a powerful talisman made from a unicorn’s horn, which Olaf had conveniently supplied which when slipped around his neck had hidden his true-face under a powerful glamour. And, not surprisingly he’d demanded his brother’s face.

He’d wanted what he believed was his by right, and what he believed had been stolen from him by Morcane, but in particular he’d wanted Morcane’s Queen, his lust for her had been palpable as he’d told him his plans.

He came back to the present with a start his body tense and his senses alert, as from outside the hut came a soft noise, like footsteps on snow. Cocking his head to the side his eyes narrowed as he listened and when the sound didn’t repeat, he grinned.

It must have been a fox or a badger prowling around, hunting for a meal, he told the empty room.

Gliding over to the fireplace -- in front of which was placed his only chair -- he sat, graceful despite his tall frame and leaning back, he let his mind stray again, reminiscing on his last night in the snowy wilderness of Amareth. The cave he’d abandoned had been his home for more centuries than he cared to remember, and it still irked him no end to have had to abandon it.

The memories swept over him like a peasouper.

He recalled waiting for the tiresome young Fayre King to fall asleep so he could collect what he would need for his enforced, and he was sure extended hiatus, in the human’s unpleasant world. But he hadn’t wanted to depart before making sure he’d left the cocky young Morcane a visual message, one he was sure he wouldn’t forget in a long while.

Eammonn-tui clasped his hands in his lap and laughed with delight at the memory; a shrill, grating sound.

The family of sparrows that had taken up residence in the rafters of his surprisingly orderly home, flapped their wings noisily, trilling in alarm. A few tiny, brown-feathers spiralled down to the floor and he glanced at them with disinterest, before turning his gaze inwards again.

Smiling, he recalled the delightful look of puzzlement and then fear that had washed across the young male’s face as he’d swallowed the potion that he’d been convinced to partake of. He’d even gone to the trouble of brewing the drink especially for him, dipping into his prized stockpile of the beautiful, but oh so deadly night-shadow fungi.

Stroking his lip with one long talon he struggled to recall his name, and his brow twitched in triumph as it came to him.

Rolande. Yes that was it, the bratty King’s best friend, he said, smirking, the corners of his lip tilting up making his moustache stick out sideways like cat’s whiskers.

Closing his eyes he released a deep sigh of pleasure and his chest fluttered as he evoked the precise instant when the male’s eyes had widened in shock with the realisation that his death was imminent. Chuckling, he re-played in his mind’s eye the delightful look of agony that had swept across Rolande’s pretty-boy face before he’d collapsed clutching his chest, his heart exhausted and broken beyond repair. The night-shadow had done its job with exquisite skill.

Eammonn-tui had known without a shadow of a doubt that there would be no bringing him back. Even the Goddess with her enormous power was unable to accomplish this one thing.

He was good at what he did, it was his life-calling.

The quaint message that he’d carved into the dead Fayre’s chest afterwards had been a little added fun, a giggle. It had been his way of making sure that Morcane had understood that there were no actions without consequences. By insulting him, Morcane had declared war, even if he was unaware of it at the time and the worst thing of all, he’d condemned his best friend to death.

Enough with the pleasurable reminiscing, they will come and when they do I want to be prepared for them, he stated in a matter-of-fact tone to the eavesdropping night-creatures.

His voice, and in particular this simple statement, echoed ominously around the small room and the whiskers of the listening rodents twitched feverishly as if they could sense the imminent storm. Briskly turning tail they dived into their bolt-holes, peering out from the safety of their refuges at the mumbling, otherworldly-creature who’d taken up residence in their previously peaceful abode.

With the sixth sense that all animals innately enter the world with, they just knew that trouble was coming. And the repercussions for this dreadful creature in front of them, would be spectacularly awful.

Chapter 2. Secrets.

Killane rolled over and opening her eyes she looked straight into the sultry amethyst ones of Morcane. Smiling, he raised his hand and slowly ran the backs of his fingers down the side of her face. Closing her eyes she placed her hand on his and then groaned, her hand dropping to her swollen belly.

His face instantly creased with concern as he saw the look of confusion and pain sweep across her face. What is it my sweet? Is it the babe? Morcane’s voice was rough, betraying his anxiety.

A slight sheen of perspiration beaded her forehead and moaning under her breath she drew her legs up as her belly hardened and then, thankfully began to soften taking the pain with it. But now another feeling had arisen, she was going to be sick.

With her hand clenched tightly over her mouth Killane wriggled backwards to the edge of the bed and awkwardly shifting her bulk around she put her feet to the floor and waddled as fast as she could to the verandah. Placing both hands on the balustrade she leaned over and emptied her stomach into the garden below.

Alarmed, Morcane jumped out of bed and silently came to stand at her side.

For a few seconds he stood there feeling helpless and strangely vulnerable in the face of her sickness. Completely clueless, he racked his brain for some secret knowledge he might have stored away which he could use to help her, but unfortunately, his mental searching came up blank.

He’d never suffered from this horrible purging, not even when he’d passed out from one drink to many and shrugging, he did the first instinctive thing that came to mind, he held her hair back. With each shuddering retch she cried out, and his insides churned with pity for her.

Groaning, she straightened up her legs wobbling beneath her. Embracing her, he held her steady and kissing the top of her head, he looked down, hiding his concern behind a crooked smile as he tenderly stroked her cheek.

Smiling wanly at him Killane murmured, I don’t know where that came from. Since falling pregnant that’s the first time I’ve been ill. Maybe I should see the Magirs? They might have something to prevent it.

Better out than in my love. I’m sure you feel much better now? Morcane pointed out, giving her a cheery smile.

Killane scowled and he drew back, his brow rising. Hmm, that look would kill grass. Maybe that wasn’t the right thing to say. Narrowing his eyes he looked down on her. She didn’t look very healthy at all. Her face was paler than normal and her eyes, usually clear and bright, glinted with fever.

Worried, Morcane swiftly changed tack. That sounds like a good idea, I’ll fetch Gryffywn after you’ve had a rest. Come and lay down for a while. He smoothed her hair off her face, asking in a soothing voice, Can I get you a drink of water, or would you prefer mead?

Once again Killane shot him a death-ray look and he shut-up. Cloaking his mind from her he allowed his imagination to run away. What’s wrong with her? Poison? Magic? Or maybe this is just normal for females as they get large with child. Morcane rubbed his forehead in frustration, he didn’t know what to think. I need some professional help, this is beyond my 600 years of life-experience.

Smiling tightly he forced himself not to become irritated with his glowering, pregnant wife.

This is your fault Morcane, she hissed through clenched teeth, before doubling over. Under her trembling hands another round of spasms rippled through her abdominal muscles. These ones weren’t as nasty, so Killane huffed and puffed through them until they eased off.

Morcane felt sick, his head pounded rhythmically and his gut was a churning mass of nerves.

Holy shit, what’s happening? It can’t be the babe, please Gaeiya. It’s too early, she’s only seven months along. I need help, right now, he squeaked.

Magirs, Gwendolyn, can you hear me? Killane is ill, I think she’s going into labour, now. Come right away, you must stop it, it’s not the child’s time to be born.

He hoped they heard his plea for help, there was no way in hell he was leaving her to fetch them. Helping her onto the bed he drew the covers up and holding her hand, he waited until her breathing slowed. When he was certain she’d drifted off he grabbed a pair of crumpled pants off the floor, pulled them on, and very quietly crept outside to await help.

He didn’t have to wait long.

From out of the sunny, clear sky alighted Gryffywn, his face wearing his usual serene look. Retracting his wings he ran his hands down the front of his gown, smoothing out the wrinkles which his short flight had whipped up and satisfied he was looking his best again he walked towards him, smiling brightly.

Morcane burred up at his calm unruffled entrance and folding his arms across his bare chest he clenched his jaw.

Stopping in front of him, Gryffywn raised a brow in question and clasping his hands, he waited for him to speak.

Morcane’s voice was as icy as his eyes as he poked his index finger into the Magir’s chest with each word, just to drive his point home. Why so frigging calm? Don’t you realise the seriousness of the situation? My wife, my son…. He stuttered to a halt, his emotions gagging him.

Placing a hand on the distraught Morcane’s shoulder, Gryffywn smiled disarmingly and mentally wrapped his tall burly frame in an invisible shroud of healing-energy. This pure, ancient, earth-magic smothered his overwrought emotions with feelings of peace and tranquillity.

In the blink of an eye the tenseness drained from Morcane’s body, his shoulders relaxed and he felt the bunched muscles in his back and neck untangle.

Gryffywn feeling the subtle shift in Morcane’s physique spoke, his tone soft, melodious and purposely hypnotic, Fear not, all will be well with your little family. I’m sure that this is just a small hiccup which will be easily remedied, just you wait and see. Now tell me what the problem is, I can’t fix it if I don’t know what is wrong. I know, he patted him on the back in a fatherly fashion, how about you just take me to our lovely Queen and I can see for myself, hmm?

With a dreamy, almost vacant nod, Morcane led the still smiling Gryffywn into the main bed-chamber. Killane was curled up on her side sleeping peacefully and as her little snuffling snores reached their ears, Morcane’s face lit up with adoration.

Giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze, Gryffywn walked on silent cat’s paws towards the bed and pausing he peered over his shoulder, whispering, She seems well enough now so I’ll be quick with the examination. She won’t be disturbed so don’t fret, and don’t deny that you weren’t. I’m a Magir, I know these things. He chuckled softly. Plus I can see into your mind, or have you forgotten my son?

Morcane smiled tightly, he hadn’t forgotten.

Gryffywn bent placing his hands on Killane’s head and his body went rigid, as if listening to a silent conversation.

Morcane jiggled his leg and folding his arms he spun around gazing blankly outside before turning back, his arms dropping, his chest tight. Sighing heavily he stepped forward and clearing his throat, demanded, Well? How is she? Lacing his fingers behind his head he rocked on the balls of his feet, waiting.

Your child is perfectly fine, he sleeps peacefully and the pains are quite normal. Her immortality prevents serious harm from befalling her, but unfortunately she’ll experience pain and discomfort like any non-immortal. These cramps will continue until your son comes, and he will not come before his time, don’t fear. Drawing his brows together he recalled a long-gone memory. Your mother suffered the same thing as her confinement drew closer.

He glanced at Morcane who was wriggling around on the spot, his face tight and flushed, his body tense. Unfortunately Gryffywn had found out another piece of information that wouldn’t improve his mood, but it needed to be aired and it didn’t look like Killane was going to say anything.

Gryffywn knew it was of the utmost importance for Killane that she say goodbye to the human-part of her life before she could truly commit herself to her new one. Turning back to his sleeping patient, he took a deep breath and dropped the bomb, knowing full well that it was going to be news to Morcane.

Were you aware…Gryffywn stroked his moustache and clearing his throat he continued, …that Killane wishes to see her family before the babe’s arrival? She’s quite homesick and pining for them.

Thunderstruck Morcane stared at the Magir’s back, and dumbly shook his head.

Can this day get any fricking better? he growled, dropping his hands to rub the back of his neck. Why didn’t she tell me she wanted to visit her family? I would have taken her. Secrets, all the time, bloody secrets. He snorted, now he well and truly had the shits.

Gryffywn straightened and turning he tilted his head fixing Morcane in his steady gaze.

Yes young one, there are a myriad of secrets around you and I see them clearly. The Naiads may have generously removed your memory of your time with Meriidyth, but it still echoes deep in your psyche. He frowned. Your immortality hasn’t improved your quick temper either. Maybe my brothers and I can put our heads together and see if there isn’t something that we can’t do to remedy that.

Perhaps she thought that you wouldn’t agree to let her make the journey in her condition, for risk of harm befalling your heir, Gryffywn put to him calmly, his eyes wriggling from side to side as Morcane paced.

Shit it’s hot in here, he spat, sweeping his hair off his face, bewildered and irritable. Coming to a standstill he spun 180° and placing a hand on his hip he stared at Gryffywn and shaking his finger for emphasis he denied his suggestion, his voice menacingly soft and low, That’s bloody absurd, you know me better than that. I could never deny Killane anything but I’d never agree to her going on her own though. No way. Particularly now with the Immortae hiding in the human’s world. I’d accompany her, for her and my son’s safety.

Gryffywn nodded, ignoring his foul mood.

Hmm, yes that is a bit of a problem having him on the loose. Maybe you could take some of the Fey Guards with you when you go, just for added protection. Naturally Gwendolyn will accompany you as well. He said this casually as if the journey was already a forthcoming event, one that just needed a few loose ends tying up.

Gryffywn made to leave before stopping and adding in a gentle voice, Niall will be back soon. His assistance would be invaluable….At the dark, bitter look which crossed Morcane’s features Gryffywn quickly leapt to Niall’s defence. You can’t carry this ridiculous jealous grudge forever. It’s not becoming, nor might I add mature. It wasn’t Niall’s fault that he fell for Killane’s charms. You must realise by now that half the male population did the same thing? Do you wish to banish them all, would that solve your ego problem? Think about it, I know you will make the best decision. Giving his shoulder a light pat Gryffywn walked out and unfurling his wings he headed home.

From his seat in the sun Morcane heard the cries and with his heart in his throat he raced inside, his heart pounding. Stopping dead in the doorway, he went limp as his brain struggled to comprehend what his eyes were seeing. Like an ethereal curtain a golden-haze swathed the bed and beneath it Killane twisted and turned, lost in the clutches of a nightmare.

As he gazed on it Morcane instantly calmed, his heartbeat and breathing slowing. Waves of love emanated from the pulsating heart of this strange manifestation and he knew instinctively that he was witnessing his ancestor’s shades. Although why they were here was beyond him.

As he stared into the heart of the haze, he saw indistinct faces materialise and at the same time whispering singsong voices brushed through his mind. One voice layered over the other, until the one he heard was a composite of a multitude of different souls.

Morcane Le Gris we are here at the behest of the unborn one. His mother, your wife and Queen suffers from visions sent by the Old One to plague her and cause her harm. We will protect her and your child from his malign influence to the best of our abilities. But until he is found and punished for his part in the great crimes against Amareth, there will be no respite from his psychic attacks.

Recovering quickly from the shock that it was his son who’d summoned them, Morcane walked up to the bed and respectfully bowing his head he spoke, I thank you for your warning and your protection of my two most precious jewels, they are indeed in the safest of hands.

With his words the shadows crept backwards, slowly sliding off the bed and across the floor where they vanished like smoke drawn up a chimney.

Bending down he gently stroked Killane’s arm. As her eyelids fluttered open focusing on his face, the last of her nightmare faded away and the faraway look in them was replaced by fear. Grunting, she sat up, swinging her legs over the side of the bed.

I saw him again, the tall stranger with icicle-tipped fingernails and dead black-eyes. He was pointing at me, mumbling in a tongue I didn’t recognise. She shivered at the memory.

Sitting next to her he wrapped his arm about her shoulders, pulling her close and stroking her cheek he snarled, Eammonn-tui. She tensed under his arm and pulling back he looked her in the eyes. It’s alright, you’re safe now, he can’t harm you. His fingers tightened gripping her bicep and his voice was harsh as he spoke, He’ll have to go through me first.

Killane’s hand tightened on his thigh as she heard the menace in his words.

Standing he walked to the doorway and looked out, struggling to think of a way to broach the subject of Killane’s secret, without upsetting her any further. With a soft sigh he gave up, and walking over to the bed he sat, taking up her hand. Running his thumb in lazy figure-eight patterns over her skin, he glanced up through the blond veil of his long hair.

She shifted, crossing her ankles beneath her and her breath caught as he gave her his delicious half-smile before scraping the hair off his forehead. Opening his eyes wide he blasted her with the full power of his extraordinary eyes and for a second her heart stuttered, stopped and then started beating normally again. Her cheeks were scalding and she waved her free hand in an attempt to cool them down.

Gryffywn was here earlier and he...Morcane glanced down at their laced fingers and his fingers tightened around hers, …mentioned that you had hopes of going to visit with your family before the child comes. Why didn’t you confide in me? Don’t you know by now that I would do anything for you, give you anything? You’re my life.

Killane’s eyes prickled as she listened to him, his voice was so sweet and full of tenderness and his beautiful violet eyes, she could quite happily drown in their depths. Reaching out she pressed her hand to his cheek.

I didn’t know how to bring it up, and then when I was ready you had gone to the northern lands and then everything….Everything just happened so fast that it just got pushed to the background. Compared to nearly losing you, it was so trite and trivial that it wasn’t even worth mentioning. All I cared for was your safety and the safety of our child, nothing else.

Smiling gently he raised her hand and placed a kiss on the back.

Right, well that’s settled then we’ll go visit your family. It’ll be pleasant to have a brother who isn’t the evil murdering bastard that mine was. Actually…he grinned, arching a brow,…it will be quite a novelty to have a human family, I’m looking forward to it. But I must warn you my sweet that we will need to take precautions before we leave.

At her curious look Morcane clarified, The humans mustn’t see us as we truly are. To see our true selves would cause them great distress, their minds aren’t evolved enough to appreciate our unique form. In particular our wings and shimmering aurae. But I don’t foresee a problem, the Magirs can make us a glamouring brew.

Morcane smiled broadly at the idea of leaving his responsibilities behind, even if it was only for a little while. No one wanting his attentions for this and that. No official business to attend to, well that wasn’t entirely true, he did have to hunt down that snivelling Immortae while he was in the human’s world. But he was positive that with Gwendolyn’s help he wouldn’t be too hard to track down. After all, he reasoned, where can someone that weird hide from the humans’ eyes?

Chapter 3. The Potion.

Morcane heard on the grape-vine that Niall had returned and not alone, apparently he’d bought a wife back with him, one of his subjects from the icy-north. Morcane didn’t know her name, and at the moment he didn’t give a shit.

He’d quickly let it be known amongst his Fey Guards that Niall was not -- under any circumstances -- to come near him or Killane under pain of another hiding. This time Morcane knew he wouldn’t hold back, no matter how much anybody objected and he was certain the message would filter down. He’d stated his desires most strongly and in no uncertain terms.

For some strange reason he just wasn’t prepared to let go of his irrational anger even though two and a half cycles of the moon had come and gone since he’d decreed Niall’s punishment to him.

Bugger it! he snapped, growing warm as his temperature soared. He knew he was being petty and immature, but he couldn’t help the stinging feeling of betrayal he still felt when he remembered why he’d banished him in the first place. Niall had blatantly coveted what was not his to have, and he was not prepared anymore to put up with others wanting Killane.

It had been bad enough that Olaf, his brother, his own flesh and blood for fuck’s sake, had stolen his identity and seduced a completely unaware Killane. His hands briefly clenched at the memory. If he wasn’t already dead, he would gladly torture him before killing him as slowly and as painfully as he could. Even now, the shock and fury he’d felt when Killane had told him, made his blood boil. Pressing his hand to his forehead, he took in a deep breath, releasing it in a long whistle through clenched teeth.

But Niall. He was a different kettle of fish. Morcane shook his head, growling in frustration.

He’d innocently left that bastard with Killane whilst he’d gone looking for Olaf, believing that he would guard her with his life and instead Niall had turned around and stabbed him in the back by harbouring lustful thoughts for his wife. And, he hadn’t even prevented her from being hurt by Olaf, and in his mind that was as great a crime as the one that Olaf had committed.

The more he thought on it the hotter he grew and stopping midstride on his way to the Magirs he roughly unlaced his shirt, pulling it away from his skin, welcoming the coolness on his sweating chest.

Not today, not when things have been going so well of late. We’ll be leaving soon, maybe when we return I’ll make my peace with him. Maybe, he murmured, walking into the Magirs.

Grinning he pushed Niall to the back of his mind and buried him, he was here on more important business, today was the day to collect the glamouring-potion and he felt a tightening in his stomach at the upcoming journey.

It gave him enormous pleasure to see Killane happy and after that awful episode fourteen sunrises ago her cramping had stopped, which set his mind at ease. He’d been stressing out about that, he hated seeing her in any form of pain, but now as the days passed and their departure drew closer, her mood had brightened considerably. He paused in the hallway, smiling, recalling her happily waddling around deciding what to take with them.

With her more amiable mood the atmosphere in their home had become almost festive-like, a complete turnaround to the previous two moon-cycles. Gryffywn had warned him that Killane would suffer from irrational mood-swings and be tearier than perhaps she normally was. As she was never teary, the novelty of comforting a weeping, pregnant wife had worn rather thin, rather quickly. He did feel guilty when he found himself becoming short with her, it wasn’t her fault he knew this.

But still, he reasoned, I’ll be glad when our son arrives and I have my enchanting wife back again, instead of this grouchy woman.

Glancing around as he walked into the main chamber he saw Gwendolyn lazily preening herself and giving a soft ‘hoot’ her silky voice slipped into his mind. Well my dear, the time for departure looms. You haven’t forgotten that this visit has a twofold purpose have you?

The Magirs entered before Morcane had a chance to reply and dipping their heads they walked up to him. Glancing down he spied one glass vial, and peeking quickly at the other’s hands he was surprised to see they were empty. Smiling, he indicated with his head the lone bottle.

Good morning. As planned I’ve come for the enchantments. Taking it from the Magir’s outstretched hand, he frowned when no more were forthcoming. Puzzled, he glanced from his hand to their faces. This isn’t a lot of potion for four of us. Maybe you’ve made a mistake in your calculations for the quantity needed, I could piss out more than this. Are you sure you’ve brewed enough?

Gryffywn groaned. Dropping his head he nodded from side to side, his breath noisily hissing through his nostrils like dragon’s fire. Raising his hand he massaged the bridge of his nose, struggling to contain his exasperation. Releasing a long sigh he raised his eyes to Morcane, who he noticed with annoyance didn’t flinch. He waited patiently for the grand explanation, one eyebrow cocked, the offending vial squatting in his open palm like a venomous spider.

Morcane really, sometimes you push me to the limits of my patience with your annoying questions. To answer your query, yes we have brewed enough. The potion is powerful and will only need a few drops to activate the desired result, he said and scowled, his smooth forehead erupting into a roadmap of fine wrinkles.

Morcane saw Gryffywn’s violet eyes twinkle mischievously from beneath his fiercely drawn brows and his lips cocked up in crooked smile. He knew he wouldn’t and couldn’t stay mad at him for too long and he was also aware that this frustrated Gryffywn. Probably more than his annoying questions did.

Running his fingers through his hair he flashed him a charming, tiny gap-toothed grin, not in the least perturbed by Gryffywn’s poorly camouflaged-scolding. It wasn’t the first time that he’d taken him to task over one thing or another, he’d get over it, he always did.

Carefully tucking the precious vial into a pouch on his belt he held up both hands palms facing them in a requisite peace gesture and staring down at his bare feet he cleared his throat before glancing up. The corners of his mouth twitched rebelliously and he swallowed back an urge to laugh.

The Magir’s eyebrows were scrunched low over their eyes, their mouths pursed into little cat’s bums. Clasping their hands at waist height they leaned towards him, their heads cocked to the side.

Placing his hand over his mouth Morcane coughed before tugging down his shirt and dropping his hands to his side.

I apologise for my comments, they were uncalled for and grossly disrespectful. He held a finger up in front of his face and tilting his head his eyes widened. But, in my defence I must say it’s been a rough last few moon-cycles. What, with Killane’s unpredictable emotions, the tears and sulks. What am I to do? It’s driving me fucking crazy.

He frowned, his good mood now swept away,