“This will be done soon,” Yorick said, giving the stew a stir. “Feel free to sit down and get comfortable.”

Nezael had never been anywhere that wasn’t his tower beyond quick visits to town. He didn’t quite know how to be comfortable anywhere else and he glanced at Yorick. The woodsman had taken off his boots, leaving them on the stone floor near the door. Nezael looked down at his own, embarrassed he hadn’t done the same, and hurried to do so. Yorick’s coat hung on a hook against the door and Nezael left his cloak and furs beside it. Mittens went around the hook as well and looked quite at home.

The cabin was plenty warm without all the layers and Nezael settled in at the table. Yorick continued fussing in the kitchen, humming to himself and Nezael was glad to listen to it. Nezael would have watched the man move, but he thought better about it and instead, brought the candles closer. Magic ignited the wicks with a pinch of his fingers, blooming little twinkling fires to life.

“Does anyone else ever visit?” Nezael asked.

“Sometimes in the summer,” Yorick said without much hesitation. “There’s this group of aunties who insist on giving me food.” He chuckled. “I make them tea when they come and we play a game of cards. Winter’s heavy on their bones, so they don’t come out this far now.”

“Aunties?” Nezael repeated.

“Ah… mothers who miss their grown children? They just tell me to call them auntie this and auntie that.” Yorick retrieved two bowls from the cupboards and placed them on the counter. “They’re sweet. Maybe they’re hoping one day I’ll have kids they can dote on or something.”

“Do you want children?”

“Hasn’t really crossed my mind.” Yorick shrugged and glanced at Nezael, lifting an eyebrow. “How about you? Forest nymph who’s not a nymph at all?”

Nezael chuckled. “It never occurred to me either. I don’t… I don’t interact much outside the markets in town and even then, I don’t take care to remember anyone.” Except for you. But he kept that part to himself. He turned away and watched the candle’s flames flicker. “I know I live deep in the forest, but I can assure you: I’m as human as you are.”

Yorick laughed. “Just what a nymph would say!”

“Oh! Come on!” Nezael couldn’t help the laughter bubbling out of his throat. “I’ve lived here ever since I can remember. I just know magic. Nothing else magical about me besides.”

Yorick hummed like he didn’t quite believe Nezael and Nezael sighed loudly, making the woodsman laugh again. “Never met anyone who could do spells like what you did,” Yorick added. “Charms and whatnot sure—there’s this passing sorceress who sells stuff in the summer—but no one’s shot literal lightning from their hand.”

Or raised the dead, Nezael added to himself and bit back from admitting it aloud.

“You’re just something else, you know?” Yorick whispered softly and Nezael chose to take it as a compliment, smiling again.

It wasn’t long before supper finished and Yorick brought it over. Two bowls full of stew seasoned with pepper and garlic, rosemary baked bread still warm from the oven, and two cups of mulled wine. Nezael took in the aroma and stirred his bowl; the broth had a thick consistency among the beef, vegetables, and dumplings. Agatha made something like it often when it grew cold. Always did the trick to warm him up. Maybe this would be the same.

“This all smells lovely,” Nezael complimented as Yorick sat beside him. “Do you cook a lot?”

“My ma was pretty good at it,” Yorick said and nodded to a well-read book in the kitchen. “When I left home, she made sure I took her recipes with me—she has them all memorized. Otherwise, there’s a tavern in town I can get something from if I don’t mind how loud it is.”

Nezael smiled, even if thinking of parents left him hollow. He brushed it aside and hoped Yorick didn’t notice as he happily dug in. The bread soaked in the stew and melted in his mouth as he took a bite and the stew itself went down warm, heating him up from the inside. They didn’t talk much as they ate, but Nezael didn’t mind. He enjoyed being in someone else’s company for once. Existing together and being content. Besides, while Carrow’s silence bored into Nezael like he’d done something wrong, Yorick’s was easy and soft. He liked it.

The meal finished too soon, drawing Nezael back to reality, but therein he found Yorick smiling softly at him.

“Yes?” Nezael asked.

“You just went quiet,” Yorick said. “And looked so content there.”

Heat bloomed across Nezael’s neck and threatened to creep up his face. “No one’s invited me to a meal like this,” he said and settled his spoon down. “I’m fed fine, make no mistake, but this is... nice. Different, but nice.”

“You’re welcome to come by any time you want,” Yorick said. “Maybe you could teach me some magic. The candles twinkle nicer when you light them.”

There it was, all the warmth rushing to Nezael’s face, and he tried to hide it by looking at the candle. Teaching magic wasn’t possible if the potential wasn’t there and in Yorick, it definitely wasn’t, but Nezael kept it to himself. “I’d love to.” Nezael smiled shyly at him. “I think you’re the first person I’ve ever met on my own.”

His gaze drifted to the window, scared of Yorick’s expression after having admitted that aloud, and he jolted. Dusk bloomed across the grove in streaks of pinks and oranges. “Oh. Oh no.” He almost clattered over his chair attempting to dash back to the door for his cloak and boots. “It’s late. It’s really late.”

“What’s wrong?” Yorick was right there, yanking his own boots on too as though he intended to follow Nezael out the door.

“I need special plants,” Nezael explained as he laced up his boots. “They’re called life blossoms and they bloom at this time each year. They have immense magical properties and I need them.”

“I think I know them,” Yorick said and Nezael faced him, astonished. “It’s used in tea to help with healing. I saw some earlier this week not far.”

Nezael nodded fervently. “Please. Show me.”

As the sun grew dim along the tips of the trees, drawing dark shadows across the woods, Yorick hurried Nezael through the trails and pointed out the two plants beginning to hum with blooming life blossoms along the river’s edge. They shone faintly like firelight, twinkling with magic, and Nezael deftly clipped them with his dagger. Two of them would have to do for now, even if he feared his lord’s reaction.

Before Nezael could run back to the tower, panic pushing magic into his legs to make him faster, Yorick took his hand. “Tomorrow,” he said, “I can show you more. They’re deeper in the woods.”

Nezael nodded. “I’ll try to come by,” he said. “Thank you.” He brought Yorick’s hand to his lips and kissed the knuckles before he turned and ran through the forest.

It was only when he caught sight of the tower did he realize perhaps it’d been too intimate a motion, but he couldn’t take it back now, nor could he return to spy on Yorick’s reaction. He had to stay focused.

The sun’s light had lowered past the top of the tower and Nezael hurried inside, sad jar of only two life blossoms tight in his arms.

His lord was there inside the door as though waiting for him, although this time he wasn’t frantically pulling on a cloak to mount a search. He regarded Nezael coldly as Nezael came inside and when his gaze landed on the jar, his expression hardened.

“I found two,” Nezael said, breathless from the run. “I-It was growing dark when I determined another place to search and I didn’t want to be late coming home.” He held the jar close and couldn’t meet Carrow’s gaze. “I will find the rest of what we need tomorrow. I promise.”

The sigh from Carrow’s lips dug deep. “Life blossoms are decidedly rare,” he murmured as he drew closer. He tipped Nezael’s chin upward to look at him. Carrow was resigned, not annoyed. Small miracles. “You did fine, my blossom. Agatha should be done with supper about now. Go eat.”

Nezael blinked. “What about you?”

“I’ve other matters to attend to.” He gently brought a hand through Nezael’s hair. “I will speak to you tomorrow once we have acquired the life blossoms.” He traced the same hand down to Nezael’s cheek. “Am I clear?”

“Yes, my lord.”

Have the blossoms tomorrow. That was the command. Nezael didn’t want to find out what happened if he didn’t or if he let a distraction stray him from this path he’d been on for years. He couldn’t throw it away. Not now.

Morning came after a silent evening alone and a fitful night of sleep. Nezael was out of the tower doors without prompting before frost had melted from the grass. Sallow sunrays hardly penetrated the forest today, but even in the dark gray shades of morning, he knew his way to Yorick’s cabin by heart.

Yorick wasn’t outside this time—the axe was where they’d left it yesterday—and at first, Nezael worried he was gone in the morning, but one knock upon the door proved his worries unfounded. Yorick immediately answered, already dressed warmly, and had the scarf Nezael had knitted around his neck. Nezael smiled, but immediately dashed it aside to hold up his jar.

“You told me you’d show me where the other blossoms were,” he said.

“I know,” Yorick said, smiling faintly. “I’m sure we’ll get enough and more.”

Yorick strode through the woods with such ease, Nezael wondered if his lord’s wards had ever worked on the man. The magic was certainly there, but the farther ones must have waned over time. If Nezael was sent out to redo them come spring, he needed to make sure to keep it this way. Let Yorick through unheeded. There were ways to and he’d figure it out in time.

The path took him deeper in the woods than he’d ever gone on his own where light receded beyond the branches too thick overhead. With ease, Nezael made a sphere of light in his hands to guide them, and it wasn’t long afterward before they found a grove full of life blossoms. Each one flickered like candlelight in the dark. Soft shimmers of magic folded over the petals as they took what was left for them. Soon, Nezael’s jar was full enough to be a light of its own and Yorick didn’t stop from showing him the other herbs in the grove. All kinds Nezael knew Isabella needed more of and together, he and Yorick clipped all they could into the jar. He did it all the way back to the trail and Nezael was glad for his help, but tried and tried to keep from distractions this time. He’d already tested his lord enough.

When they returned to the well-traveled road, Nezael figured it was enough and stopped Yorick from taking him to yet another hidden grove.

“I think this will be plenty,” he said, happy with how the jar warmed his fingers. “Thank you. I don’t know what I would have done without your help.”