The Hellhound

Ch. Thirty-Six

"We are not permitted to choose the frame of our destiny. But what we put into it is ours."

- Dag Hammarshjold

                                                                            ***

Sirius could only gape at that. Caydryn didn't say any more, apparently content to just let his words sink in.

Honor-bound, just because Sirius hadn't turned him over to the Unseelie King once six hundred years ago. It was mind-boggling, in a way, that this male would even bother to repay his debt.

Sirius hadn't remembered the prince until now, and never would have thought to call upon anyone from Faerie for help. Even now, with Caydryn's words ringing in his ears, he wasn't sure trusting the prince was such a great idea.

Not that that had ever stopped him before.

The prince let out a heavy sigh and turned away from Sirius, his pale gaze straying to Rhys. He muttered, "I will attend to your friend while you..." Uncharacteristically—for a faerie—he seemed to run out of words and simply waved a vague hand at Sirius.

Before Sirius could think better of it and stop him, Caydryn was already across the columned hall. He knelt beside the witch, a damp cloth that smelled of eucalyptus and lavender in his hand. Rhys barely twitched as Caydryn began to swab the cloth over the still-closing cuts.

Sirius watched as Caydryn started muttering over Rhys, pale blue magic glittering around the tips of his golden claws. Color slowly began to return to the witch's face, his breathing becoming less labored. The faerie brushed a strand of indigo hair behind a slightly pointed ear.

"If you owed me just for letting you go that day," Sirius began, looking out over the mesmerizing shift of the ocean before turning back to the faerie, "then by my reckoning we're even. I let you go, you got us out of that pit. We're square."

Caydryn glanced over his shoulder, hand resting on Rhys' chest. He didn't so much as blink, staring at Sirius with that inscrutable ivory gaze. Then, his mouth curved into a sly smile, sharp canines glittering in the impossible golden sunlight.

"That's why I set a new price, boyo."

Sirius snarled, flashing his own canines. Caydryn's eyes flickered down to his mouth, his smile turning more feline. But all the prince did was turn back to Rhys, who was finally beginning to stir. 

Shaking his head, Sirius decided to put off thinking about Caydryn's new price and instead moved to stand on the other side of the bench. He watched as the witch frowned, then opened his eyes, gaze darting first to Caydryn, then to Sirius.

He lunged upright before gasping in pain, a hand coming up to his stomach.

"Slowly," Caydryn murmured, one hand on Rhys' shoulder to keep him from slumping backwards. "That she-devil has been working on you for—"

"Don't care," Rhys spat. He blinked twice, then brought his hands up. The holes through his palms still hadn't healed completely. 

It shocked Sirius when Rhys snickered and got to his feet, stumbling drunkenly. Again, the Seelie prince caught him, peering curiously down into the witch's face. Rhys cocked his head, staring back at Caydryn with the same interest.

Then he smirked and rasped, "You were the one speaking to me."

Brows drawing together, Sirius looked back and forth between them. 

"Your eyes are lovely," was all Caydryn said in reply. Rhys just nodded in agreement.

A surprised breath got caught in Sirius' throat and turned into a cough that made Rhys turn to him with a raised eyebrow. The witch snickered and brushed a few strands of silver-streaked hair from his face. "And here I was thinking you would get it more than anyone else."