May Kihia be her witness.

  Quincey Melvic did not want to start her story off with a man affecting her this much.

  Her mother was a strong woman who raised her daughters to also be strong women. Even after her mother died her father would have never thought his daughters less capable, whether that be in the pits of hell fighting demons, or dancing their way through the tricks of a fairy field. Whether they chose the path of solitude, found fated mate or said fuck it and formed a harem. Quincey and her older sister Hasey were not the type to get sidetracked by things that didn’t even deserve their attention.

  Yet here Quincey was opening the door to her tree hut that was warded against unwelcomed guests to see a man singed and smoke ridden leaning against the framework. Of course, she knew him and of course he wasn’t welcome.

  Keith Sterling was an asshole.

  An A grade fuck you over jerk that did not deserve the time of day. She’d theorized lately he’d been that was since his mother trekked her way through no man’s land back to their camps after everyone thought she was dead carrying a baby, with a demon’s aura. Quincey knew that most blamed his personality on his demon father. Quincey never bought into that. Keith wasn’t an asshole because his blood deemed long ago that he’d be that way. No that was all him.

  Sauntering around town, that curling smirk on his face, cocking his brows at any who might be called by his charms. He was the guy that tripped and found himself in a moment, a dalliance, a relationship that would woosh up like flames but always leave everyone involved in cinders. Everyone knew it and yet he had been fantasy of many. He was the image of rebellion. The image of charm.

  He fought demons, infiltrated their camps, made friends with them and eventually Ping ponged his way back and forth. Bringing lovers to explore demon lands and bringing demon lovers into the pit of sanctuaries. Leaving chaos in his wake.

  Yet, everyone seemed to like him. Claimed that though you were never sure on what side he was on in any given moment he meant well. He was as she said charming. He was more than just trouble.

  Quincey had to give him that he was more than just trouble. A fuck tone more than trouble.

  He was a complete and utter disaster and Quincey had for years been trying to ensure that she did not have to deal with said, heart throb, annoying down fall.

  “What are you doing here Keith?” Quincey asked him trying to determine if the damage was done by her wards or a previous fight he’d gotten himself into. He coughed, smacking his chest until black gunk splattered on the floor. “Lovely.” She hissed.

  “Mothy.” He huffed out a wheeze. Turning eyes like flames up at her a plea for help.

  Quincey’s mother had been descended from fae. Which led to Hasey being nicknamed Butterfly and Quincey being called Mothy. The names fit too, Butterfly had been born with the bright blue eyes and dark hair of the emblem their father chose for the mercenary group, a Blue Monarch Butterfly. She was always the one to be forefront and in the sun. Most likely to run into a crowd of people and most likely to be seen in the trenches bulldozing her way to the center of conflict. She was loud, bold and a good leader. Those under her command chose to alter her nickname of Butterfly to Monarch though it was mostly said to get on her nerves. Mothy though had always been a bit more reserved, she’d stood back and took in a situation, researched things in the middle of the night, crept places to find more information. She’d grown to build a home in the middle of nowhere interacting with the various fae in order to get information and resources. Though she also was born with black hair and blue eyes she’d never been a Butterfly, but she’d never wished to be either.

  Her willingness to talk to the fae was leading to there being less conflicts on that front of late and they were even talking about trade agreements. Those among the fae hadn’t liked her nickname of Mothy saying it was undignified called her Moon Drop. Though she always preferred Mothy.

  Her relationship to the fae had been much like Keith’s relationship to the demons. They were both in between both trying to figure out what that meant for them. It was for years that reason Mothy had sat on the ledge of her bedroom window and listened to all his troubles. Had enjoyed listening and talking about each other’s hopes and dreams. Had excitedly crossed over no man’s land with her note book him promising her he could get her the best information.

  She’d cared about the reasons behind the problems that always followed Keith Sterling. Had helped him think of ways to help. She’d cared about him. Thought he was a friend. Yet, she didn’t get a word of thought when he disappeared in the middle of the night, stealing some money from her father and taking the potions, she’d excitedly told him she’d been making.

  When he’d slunk his way back, she’d read in letters from her sister and father that everyone forgave him. Her Uncle, who’d never met him before wrote that he was a nice kid.

  Kid. Mothy thought bitterly. He hadn’t been a kid anymore. He’d been grown enough to come back with saying he was United to someone. A United that she knew from mirror calls with her sister that hadn’t lasted long. And here he was in trouble again looking at her knowing she’d help.

  “Is it all out of you?” Mothy asked him.

  “I think so.” He breathed. Mothy nodded and waved a hand, the black sludge lifting and swirling into a jar that appeared in her outstretched hand. She capped it and looked at it through the glass.

  “What is it?” She asked wrinkling her nose.

  “I think poison.” He trailed his nose wrinkling. “Why did you jar it?” He asked. Mothy glanced at him looking him up and down looking a total worse for wear.

  “You don’t know what it is but it seems to be trying to kill you. So I’ll do some tests on the sludge, see if you’re going to die and get you out of my hut as quickly as possible.” Mothy explained to him slowly keeping her voice dry and lacking emotion. “Go sit.” She told him motioning to a settee and went to her workstation setting up what she would need. She took only a little of the sludge dripped it onto piece of glass and began running through all the different tests.

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  It took about an hour to find what she needed in a book laid it open on the table while she plucked things off of her hanging growths. Starting a cauldron on a boil and adding the plants in. Mothy glanced over at her patient that was strewn across the settee grumbling incoherently. She went back to her boil. When it reached its peak she strained to concoction into a heatproofed glass and brought it over to Keith.

  “Drink.” She commanded him. He pulled himself up to sitting and took the glass from her downing it. It had always intrigued her how demon linages could handle boiling liquids like they were nothing. He placed down the glass, took some deep breaths and stared blankly at her ceiling for a while. She went and cleaned up.

  “Shit, that worked.” Keith hissed out still laying there. Mothy cut a glare at him.

  “Did you think it wouldn’t?” She asked him.

  “No, I know better than to question your skills, Mothy.” Keith chuckled shooting her that croaked smile. Mothy turned away from him. Pulling out the book she was reading and continuing to page through it.

  “You can leave forty gold on the table.” Mothy told him naming the amount he’d stolen from her father.

  “You aren’t going ask what happened?” He asked her. No. When they were friends she didn’t mean enough to get answer so now he could live without her questions.

  “Why should I care about your goings on.” Mothy commented continuing to turn pages. Keith was silent for a while.

  “Mothy.” He breathed his tone sounding pleading. She would have ignored that but there was more to the tone pain. She glanced at him and saw him wince as he sat up fully. She sighed and closed her book and placed it down.

  “Are you more injured?” She asked him. Keith’s face winced and he pulled his shirt up to show a gash that looked as though it had already been treated. Poorly but treated. Mothy went and retrieved more things. She sat and carefully removed each stitch until the wound leaked a mix of red and black. More of the tar. She tutted.

  “How many times were you poisoned.” She asked him.

  “I don’t know. I was attacked five times.” He admitted his voice thinning as she stitched him. Mothy hummed and nodded. Having him remove his shirt completely she found two other wounds as poorly treated with the same blood and black ooze. When she had the wounds cleaned and resewn. She looked at him a cool impatience.

  “Are there anymore?” She asked him formulating each word leaving a threat of if he lied in the air.

  “No.” He admitted. “That was the lot of it.” He assured her. Mothy started to stand.

  “Then fifty gold.” She informed him letting her tone brighten just a hair. Kieth caught her arm swiftly but not roughly. She glared at him.

  “I could also use your knowledge.” Keith stumbled out his lips turning up not cocky and charming but chagrined. “My united ran off with a different guy and for some reason when I severed the Union they took that to mean it was fair game to kill me.” Kieth offered. Mothy raised her brows not expecting that. She found herself interested though she could see the clear attempt to play at her sympathy. “She’s fae.” He added quickly afterward. Mothy rolled her eyes and sat beside him steering clear of where he’d bled on the settee.

  “Well, that’s rather broad.” Mothy informed him though she was already running through different Fae groups that might kill a person to sever a Union. Kieth chuckled nodded.

  “Telgalorian.” He offered saying the words in pieces. Mothy nodded that was it.

  “Ah, yes.” Mothy breathed understanding fully. “You formed a Union with a woman who it is customary to her people to fight for their women to the death. Good job.” Mothy congratulated him sarcastically. Keith gaped at her.

  “She left me though.” Keith pointed out sound shock and affronted.

  “Technically, but in the eyes of the Telgalorian, she went on an escapade with a lover. If you wanted her back you should have rode to his location and challenged him to a death’s duel where either he would parish and you would keep your united or he would keep your united and you would die at the end of his blade.” Mothy explained. Keith shook his head opening and closing his mouth.

  “But I severed the Union.” He pointed out. Mothy again nodded.

  “Yes, so you’ve deemed the I assume Telgalorian man’s lover to not be suitable enough to even fight for, insulting her and his choices. He will view it as if you didn’t want her, you should have killed him first and then left her. Or prove that there is something of greater value then her.” Mothy laid out. It was a sad truth the woman he was united to most likely wouldn’t even want these conflicts but the Telgalorian didn’t see the point in checking what a woman thought but would die to bed her. There was a chance she’d never wanted to marry Keith but his request was something she couldn’t turn down without apt reason. Though Mothy didn’t know the situation herself had simply seen the tragedies in the Talgalorian kingdoms.

  Keith hissed out a breath shaking his head. He glanced down at himself wincing. He met her gaze.

  “Could I borrow your bath?” He asked. Mothy shook her head standing and heading away.

  “But you can add ten more gold to your bill.” Mothy shot back over her shoulder at him.

  Keith swore pulling a bag off his belt and tossing it on the table.

  “That should cover whatever other expenses you come up with in the beautiful mind of yours.” He called out his casual meaningless flirting echoing. He stomped a bit away and Mothy watched him waiting. Keith paused turning back to her piercing his lips. “Where would your bath be?” He asked sounding as if it pained his pride to have to ask. Mothy was already heading to the bathroom pulling out a few packets. She drew the bath to the most scolding temperature and added the packets in she even added things to make the bath smell nice.

  “What’s that?” He asked.

  “Medicine. It will help the cuts heal. Seeing as you so generously paid handsomely.” Mothy offered brightly. Keith swore.

  “Dammit Mothy.” He hissed. Mothy provided him with a towel bath supplies and a change of clothing. She brought him wine and snacks. She gave him wonderful treatment. Keith looked as if he wanted so badly to be irritated and yet a smirk pulled at his face.

  She shut the door on him.