~ (Continued) Vijfday, 30th of Iovilios, 11831 ~

Elwin carried Renaud through the Duc’s Forest. The body was soaked in blood, reeking, the wound in the back still leaving a trail behind them. Given that Autumnfinding would be here come dawn, he could either wait a few days, or have this done before the morning, and there had already been enough time wasted.

Magec met him as soon as he stepped into Faery.

“Go let Rhianu know that I will be home soon,” Elwin said, hefting the body to a more comfortable position. “And that I wish her expertise.”

“Shall I dine tonight?” the wolf asked in reply.

“You may, if there is enough left of him to consume when we are finished.”

Magec barked and wagged his tail before running ahead.

Eyes watched from the shadows and trees. Those going to Cardinalis, those preparing for the morn. He gripped his prey and glared into the night.

“I am fay. I am the Margrave de Spadé. His blood is mine.”

The world soon shifted, and his home appeared down a deep glen. Candlelight burned in the windows. The night sky was clear, Erebia, the moon of the other-planes high in the sky and almost full for tomorrow night.

His wife was already in the doorway. Magec sat at her side, growling softly, his hackles raised and ears alert. Elwin stopped to watch her.

He was fay. But she was Fée.

She wore a gown of gold and grey, her skin glowing in the moonlight, and a dagger in her hand. She had been making preparations for the Autumn King and his subjects, the unseelie fae, those more cruel and harsh in their justice.

She was unseelie.

Elwin let the corpse fall from his arms. “A maggot,” he said. “His life is ours to do with as we please. On behalf of our daughter, and our grandson, and his beloved.” He told her quickly of what the young man had done, and how Pierre had even shown mercy, only to be repaid with more treachery.

Rhianu walked up to them, and Elwin could swear she was floating, for she did not even bend the grass beneath her feet. Her expression had hardened at his tale, but as she moved closer, he could see fury and rage. She held a dagger in her left hand. Her perfect fingers shook.

The Margravine de Spadé circled first her husband. Her hand touched his shoulder, wove over his chest, checking the old blood stains and finding no wounds underneath. She then stopped at the feet of Renauld de Feuilles.

“You speak of his life, but bring me his corpse. That does not give me satisfaction, Husband. For such pain caused I wish he had suffered further… Are those we love alright?”

“They will be. Síofra’s heart was broken, and an attempt made of Pierre’s life. Lady Elizabeth was struck down by this… but she too will be well, I made certain of it before I came here. As for your feelings, my dear, I have good news. I have been keeping a secret from you—I consort with Mora. Sabine was my teacher… In addition to it all, this filth is part of the reason Sabine is dead. It will be my pleasure to return his life so we may end it.”

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Her eyes widened, and Elwin smiled, knowing for the first time in many years he had surprised her.

“Then come. We have a few hours before dawn and I have come up with a new transformation. Bring him, my dear, I will show you.”

They trekked up the side of the glen to a nearby hill, filled with wildflowers, where their daughter and granddaughter had played together as young girls. On this first day of autumn it was still in full bloom, the petals catching the scant moonlight and looking as if the whole hill glowed. Come morning they would wilt.

Rhianu directed her husband to lay down the corpse at the very top.

“You first,” she said, “Let me see this magic you have managed to keep from me.”

His smile turned sheepish. “I meant to tell you one day, but it was easier to keep quiet from everyone. It became habit.”

She nodded, amused rather than offended. There were, after all, secrets she kept as well.

“Will you need a knife?”

“Oui, thank you, dear.”

He opened his palm and cut along a scar that had already healed, resting over a line for life. He cupped his hand, and it filled with dark blood, swirling silver and black.

“I wish to taste it,” he heard his wife whisper. Fae did not feast on flesh or lifeblood, but they gained knowledge of a person through the consumption, and accepted offerings.

Elwin spread his fingers, the blood falling onto Renaud’s face from above, some of it entering his mouth—enough to alert the suitor that his spell had begun. With that he reached out to his wife and let her also taste, much preferring her lips on his fingers to any other.

Her soul was a wash of ice, pure and cold. Bringing both life and being able to take it. He shivered as her tongue touched the wound. He focused on her even as he dragged back the rusted soul of the comte’s heir.

“He lives,” Elwin whispered.

Rhianu licked the last of the blood from his hand before kneeling in the flowers. There was still a smear on her cheek.

She placed a finger on the toes of his foot and traced up his body, along his leg, stomach, arm, chest, neck, and stopped at the tip of his head. She then traced the other side of his body in the same way, ending at the toes on the other foot. The grass and flowers wrapped around him, holding him to the soil, trapping him.

She then whispered a few words that Elwin did not hear and stepped away from him.

Renaud woke.

“Where am I?” he demanded. He strained against the grass and snarled, even the new strength of a vampire not enough when being held by Faery.

“What have you done to me?”

Renaud felt stiff. Moving caused him pain. His skin was darkening. Hardening. He sunk his feet into the earth as if needing the feeling of dirt on his skin, and his toes grew long, poking up like shoots. His arms reached up into the air, his fingers stretching and thinning.

“You are becoming an elder tree,” the margravine said. “See, your fingers will be your twigs, your body your trunk.” She pointed out the changes with a terrifying smile. “You committed many a grave sin, the least of which could be said that you tried to seal Síofra’s magia. You should have taken her mercy and the ignorance of your other deeds and hidden for the rest of your days. But you instead returned, killed Lady Elizabeth, revealed yourself to be one of those attempting to end Pierre’s life. And this is the sentence that I pass as Margravine Spadé and Mother.”

Renaud opened his mouth to reply, but instead screamed, then gurgled, his teeth breaking open and unfurling into leaves. His eyes sunk into bark. His tongue grew large and out of what was left of his mouth, splitting, searching for dirt and becoming roots.

Elwin retched. Rhianu was unfazed.

“Everything will correspond as best as it can. It would be so nice and simple if it was only your hair becoming leaves, no? But you will taste the dirt you stand in, absorb the sun as you would chew bread. I believe you do not see, and soon you will not hear, but you will feel. Every broken twig will be as if it was your finger snapped. Every pulled leaf as if yanking out a tooth.

“You will not lose your mind. At least, not initially, though I presume you may well lose it given enough time.

“Yet I am not without mercy. Your lifespan will last as long as you would have before this transformation. It should only be a few decades rather than centuries this way.”

Elwin laughed, lest he lose control and be sick again. There was no other way for him to process what his wife had just done. “My dear, oh my horrifying wife, did I forget to mention he became a vampire to seek revenge? He will stand here for eternity!”

“Unless he bursts into flame come dawn. But I do not believe that will be the case… Maybe a great-great-grandchild will one day have pity and chop him down.” If she remembered to pass on who this tree was.