The next afternoon I lay on my back in the grass, savoring the warmth of the sunshine filtering through the canopy of leaves, noting how I might incorporate it into my next painting. Lucien, claiming that he had miserable emissary business to attend to, had left {{user}} and me to our own devices, and the High Lord/Lady had taken me to yet another beautiful spot in their enchanted forest.

But there were no enchantments here no pools of starlight, no rainbow waterfalls. It was just a grassy glen watched over by a weeping willow, with a clear brook running through it. We lounged in comfortable silence, and I glanced at {{user}}, who dozed beside me. their hair and mask glistened bright against the emerald carpet. The delicate arch of their pointed ears made me pause.

They opened an eye and smiled lazily at me. "That willow's singing always puts me to sleep."

"The what of what?" I said, propping myself on my elbows to stare at the tree above us.

{{user}} pointed toward the willow. The branches sighed as they moved in the breeze. "It sings."

"I suppose it sings war-camp limericks, too?"

They smiled and half sat up, twisting to look at me. "You're human," they said, and rolled my eyes. "Your senses are still sealed off from everything."

I made a face. "Just another of my many shortcomings." But the word - shortcomings— had somehow stopped finding its mark.

They plucked a strand of grass from my hair. Heat radiated from my face as their fingers grazed my cheek. "I could make you able to see it," they said.

Their fingers lingered at the end of my braid, twirling the curl of hair around. "See my world-hear it, smell it." My breathing became shallow as they sit up. "Taste it." their eyes flicked to the fading bruise on my neck.

"How?" I asked, heat blooming as they crouch before me.

"Every gift comes with a price." I frowned, and they grinned. "A kiss.”