They found Tobei in quite an odd scene up in the middle of the village, his shining black violin tucked into his neck.
“I couldn’t name a better time!” Tobei said without the slightest hitch in the song he drew across his violin’s strings. “I was just on my way to groom Kunin.”
And indeed it seemed it was the perfect time, because in a long, bobbing line behind Tobei floated an assortment of jars and bottles that Belle would guess held any substance she might want to smear on her skin or rake through her hair. The clay and glass of the little containers clinked merrily against each other, almost in time with the music, as Tobei walked. Belle could see—they were being tugged along by the notes themselves.
“Brilliant,” Belle whispered, awed, and she watched a thrill run through the beautiful mess that was his magic.
The other villagers passing by seemed far more interested in Belle than they were in Tobei’s clattering procession—this must be a common occurrence here. It made her grin, and she fell in line, let his music tug her along too. Odelia, her expression something between amused and annoyed, followed after, making a point not to stand in the line lest anyone think she was playing along.
Tobei played them onto one of the large wooden lifts with his jaunty song, and when they were all aboard switched up the melody, and Belle felt his magic guiding her to the lift controls. The music nudged her hand up toward the far right lever, and right on rhythm, she pulled it, pots and jars bobbing around her.
The Great silver Wolf must have heard the music, because he was already running eager circles around and around the massive trunk of the tree, vaulting roots higher than Belle’s head with ease. When the lift touched down, he zoomed off, and when they were too slow following, zoomed right back. He must have run back and forth two dozen times by the time Tobei and his followers came to a stop in the same clearing Daivad had just finished repairing.
The floating containers swirled around Tobei as he finished up his song and neatly arranged themselves along the edge of the stream, now swift-flowing and clear once again. When Tobei finally parted bow from string, Belle broke into applause and he tucked his violin under one arm and gave several deep bows, his black locks tumbling all around his handsome face.
“You and your golden Jacqueline both make an excellent audience.” He winked.
“I haven’t seen music and movement woven so finely in—Well, I don’t know if even Great Cassiix ever saw it. So tightly knit they could never be unraveled. And beautifully woven, too.”
A wobble ran through his magic, elated and uncertain at once, and a pleased blush warmed the notes still drifting hazily around him. For just a moment he couldn’t seem to find words, but then he had that cocksure grin back on, and he said, “Alright, alright, if you want the name so bad, you’re the better audience.”
“Sweet shit,” Belle said. “Even all the way across camp I could tell that, to you, that fight was a greater gift than any piddly little words from me could ever be.”
“Ah,” he said, gold-green eyes twinkling, “you do have the Eyes.”
Kunin, tired of all this attention that wasn’t on him, barked straight in Tobei’s sensitive ear, nearly sending the man to the ground.
“Mother Dark, Ku!” he said with a hand clamped over one ear. “Alright!”
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When Tobei had sated Kunin with a minute or two of brushing, he would take a moment to examine Belle’s hair, ask her as many questions as he could get through before Kunin started to huff or stamp his paws and Tobei would have to turn his attention once again to the Wolf. He took Belle through each little container he’d coaxed after him, their contents and their uses.
“Almond oil,” he would say. “Excellent moisturizer.” And then, he held up a green bottle, “Whiskey.”
“You can put whiskey on your hair?”
“Yes! A rinse in this will keep your hair clean and strong. But that’s not why I brought it.” And he took a deep swig before offering the bottle to her.
Together, they groomed the beautiful Wolf, trimmed his nails and cleaned his teeth, talking all the while. Belle gave Kunin the same massage she’d given Clarix earlier, evening out the flow of magic through his massive, lithe body, and he attempted several times to head-butt her whenever she stopped.
Then, once Tobei had finally fought Kunin back, he set to work on her hair, pulling out each lock and raking oil through it before defining and scrunching the curl. And talking and talking. Tobei, it seemed, was where Belle could go to get any and all information she wanted on this camp.
More than once Odelia, visibly bored sitting on another low root, uninterested in this spa day, would try to stop Tobei’s chatter. Caution him that Belle was a stranger, that just because she had some pretty words for him didn’t mean she could be trusted. Tobei waved all of this off.
“Tell the story of that charm on your chest,” Belle invited. “I spotted its siblings, one on Daivad’s arm and the other in Ben’s hair. The way their wound into each of y’alls magics means they must have their stories.”
“Aah.” Though she couldn’t see his expression behind her, she could hear the smile in his voice. “Wound into our magics, huh? Even Daivad’s?”
“Especially Daivad’s.”
“Ha!” Tobei said. “I knew he loved me.”
Belle laughed. “You made them?”
“I did. When we were in the queen’s army. Daivad had been gone for years playing Prince—or having Prince play him, really. He’d had enough of the role and the queen let him switch to the role of Soldier instead, at least for a while. He called Ben and me up from the Farm to join his ranks—our trio, back together again. In case we were ever separated again, I wanted them to—I wanted us to have something to remember us by. That was when we got our Wolves, and Daivad had always been our pack leader, so I carved him a Wolf. A violin for me, of course, and a tree for our strong, silent Ben.”
“But you’re surprised to hear Daivad holds his close to his heart?” Belle asked, smiling.
“No,” Tobei chuckled, “but it’s welcome words that he’s still losing his fight to not care.”
If Belle wasn’t determined to see the entire camp, she may have spent her whole time there with Tobei. He was funny and charming and absolutely poured attention onto her—the good kind of attention for once. But there beneath all that beauty in his magic, the longer she sat with him, talked to him, and listened to him turn every topic back to her, she found a wound so deep, so dark that she couldn’t see the bottom of it.
She knew wounds like that. She had one herself.
They spent their last few minutes picking wildflowers around the clearing and weaving them into flower crowns, using the technique Mama T had used to make crowns for Belle as a child. Belle waved Tobei over without interrupting the flow of conversation and braided the crown she made into his hair to ensure it would stay in place.
Finally, while she knelt before him so he could return the favor, she confided in him how nervous she was about this meeting. How the very idea of it exhausted her, and she was afraid she would mess it up this time. Her magic would fail beneath the pressure, and her very last and only hope would die here.
When Tobei had tucked in the last braid, he came around in front of her and leaned in so his eyes were even with hers, just a few inches away. He gave her a knowing smirk, eyes twinkling once again. “Trust me, Belle,” he said. “I’ve known Daivad longer than anyone. You have nothing to worry about.”
It made her feel a lot better, and she thanked Tobei for both the oils and the open ear before giving him a last hug and heading off to see what else she could see.