Dirt-Stained Hands, Thorn-Pierced Skin, page 1
Tabitha O’Connell
Dirt-Stained Hands, Thorn-Pierced Skin
Copyright © 2022 by Tabitha O’Connell
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.
First edition
Cover by The Illustrated Page Book Design
Contents
Content Notes
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Content Note
This book contains:
Minor injury & blood
Mild body horror
Reference to parent death
Reference to alcohol consumption
If you would like more details, please contact me here.
1
Heron eased what ey hoped was the final weed from its spot between the leaves of a rhubarb plant, careful to pull the entire root system free before tossing it into the wheelbarrow with the rest. Ey wiped the light sheen of sweat from eir face, then looked up to survey the garden for any remaining intruders. Only the neat rows of vegetables remained, soil dark and damp around them.
These days, with eir mother determined to make a living off selling her inventions, the garden was solely Heron’s responsibility—which ey didn’t mind. Ey liked the quiet, the steady rhythm, the progress as the plants grew and blossomed and bore fruit. Ey liked the smell of the dirt, the infinite variety in the plants, the insects that pollinated them…
If Tiel got his way, though, Heron was going to lose all of that. Living in town instead, hearing arguing people instead of the clucking of chickens, inhaling smoke instead of rain-soaked earth.
Sighing, ey unbent eir stiff knees and rose, rolling eir shoulders and stretching eir arms above eir head. With Ma away, off on her trip to the city fair that morning, Tiel had invited himself over tonight. Heron had reminded him, though, that that would mean waking up early tomorrow to make it back into town for work on time, and that had seemed sufficient to put him off the idea.
Guilt nagged em like a persistent fly, but ey just as persistently swatted it away. Ey was allowed to want some time to emself every so often. Ever since Ma had mentioned her trip, ey’d been looking forward to a quiet evening alone with a book. No clatter of tools from Ma’s bedroom workshop, no trying to figure out if her mutterings were directed at em or just her talking to herself. Ey loved her, and they got along well for the most part—but it was still nice to have a break once in a while.
Of course, most people would relish the chance to have their lover over when they had the house to themselves… but then, most people weren’t seeing Tiel. Maybe if he could sit still, could amuse himself while Heron read, or at least show an interest in what ey was reading, it would be different. Maybe if he could stop pestering Heron about moving to town with him for one moment…
Ey dropped eir arms with another sigh. At least ey’d succeeded in dissuading Tiel from coming by, and ey wouldn’t have to face that tonight—
Something grabbed em around the ribs, and ey yelped, pulling away. When ey spun around, there was Tiel, sleeves rolled to the elbows, hands stained with ink, wearing the heeled boots that raised him two or three inches taller than Heron, elegant features crumpled into a laugh.
“For fucks’ sake.” Heron rolled eir eyes and gave Tiel a half-hearted shove, conveniently pushing him off the rhubarb plants he was trampling.
“Every time!” Tiel exclaimed through continued laughter. “I swear, you’ll never learn.” He grabbed Heron’s hand, making a show of wincing at the dirt embedded in eir palm, and pulled em in for a kiss. “Impeccable timing on my part, don’t you think? Looks like you’ve just finished for the day.”
“Just about.”
Heron turned to maneuver the wheelbarrow out of the garden and toward the compost heap. Tiel jogged to catch up, smacking eir ass as he fell into step beside em, making em jump, and Tiel laughed.
“Ah, I can’t wait to have a night of peace and quiet,” he remarked. “My parents are going to murder each other one of these days, I swear.”
Here it came. Tiel would certainly use take this chance to segue into…
“Have you talked to your mum yet about leaving?”
The wheelbarrow hit a divot in the path, sending clumps of dirt bouncing into the air. Tiel fell back a step, giving Heron an extra moment to consider eir answer. “…No, not yet. She was so busy with fair preparations, you know, there really wasn’t a good time.”
“When will be a good time?” Tiel grabbed Heron’s shoulder as he caught up again.
“Do I look like a fortune teller?” They’d reached the compost pile, and Heron shrugged Tiel’s hand off and tipped the wheelbarrow forward, giving it a shake to get all the bits out.
“No, you look like a farmer’s child who was meant for bigger things! Stop worrying about your mum and let yourself have this.”
Heron rested the wheelbarrow on the ground again, and Tiel grabbed eir arms, spinning em to face him. Holding Heron in place, hands firm on eir biceps, he dropped his voice to an enticing whisper. “Come live with me, darling. Let me take you away from all this.”
There was a time when Heron would have smiled at Tiel’s theatrics. Ey had originally enjoyed that side of Tiel; it was what had drawn em in even before they’d met. The handsome man with the loud laugh and bold gestures, who veered into silliness at times, but whose confidence never wavered. When had that confidence become a wall holding Heron back, rather than a supportive foundation?
Heron closed the gap between them, pressing eir mouth to Tiel’s, lifting a hand to run eir fingers down Tiel’s chest.
“You’re trying to distract me,” Tiel murmured against eir lips.
“Is it working?”
Tiel pressed closer against em, sufficiently answering that question, and Heron let eir anticipated vision of the evening slip away. It was fine. Ey would have a night with Tiel, and ey would enjoy that instead.
* * *
In the dim light of morning, waking sore and cold and crammed against the wall—Tiel, still passed out beside em, had stolen all the blankets and most of the bed—Heron had to acknowledge that ey hadn’t particularly enjoyed Tiel’s visit. What was wrong with em? Ey hadn’t been able to believe it when Tiel had approached em at last year’s midsummer celebration, asking em to dance; ey’d thought it had been some joke, that Tiel and his friends were just waiting to laugh at em if ey agreed. The naive farm kid falling for the tricks of the sophisticated town lad. But it had been real—Tiel had made pleading eyes at em, and ey’d given in, and the grins Tiel had flashed as they danced had made eir heart flutter.
What had also been real, several dances and multiple drinks later, was Tiel pulling em aside, sliding a hand onto eir ass, and attempting to drunkenly kiss em. It had all become clear then—Tiel was just looking for a quick fuck. Heron had pushed him off and left, ignoring his confused “What? You don’t want to kiss me?”, berating emself for being so foolish as to think someone like Tiel could have an actual romantic interest in em.
The next day, though, the gifts had started. Baubles left with notes of apology, imploring forgiveness; cakes and sweets addressed to em, delivered in neat little boxes. Ma gave em significant looks and made comments about eir admirer, while Heron just felt humiliated. It was so much, so over-dramatic—it had to be Tiel’s way of mocking em for not wanting to jump into bed with him. It was an expensive mockery—Tiel’s family was decently well off, but not wealthy—but Heron couldn’t imagine what other motivation Tiel could have.
Ey ignored it all, waiting for Tiel to get bored and give it up. But one day, as ey was leaving the barn, ey caught Tiel’s red-faced form coming down the road from town, some kind of sapling balanced in his arms. Tiel’s eyes had met eirs, and the look of mild panic on his face, the blush that had further reddened his cheeks, had seemed genuine. Something loosened in Heron’s chest at the sight, and ey went to meet Tiel, taking the burden from his arms.
“You like plants,” Tiel had blurted, anything but smooth. “So… this. It’s an apple tree. I thought, something more practical…”
“What do you want?” Heron had asked, annoyed with emself for being slightly charmed by Tiel’s flusteredness.
“I want you to know that I really am sorry for being a drunken boor. Because… I like you. And I had hoped to spend more time with you.”
Heron searched his face. Hair slightly mussed, dirt smudged on one cheek… If this was all a play to laugh at em, or just to get em in bed, Tiel was either an amazing actor, or somewhat insane. Somehow, him meaning it was the more logical explanation.
No one had ever gone to that much effort for Heron before. Much as ey’d hated to admit it, even to emself, it had made em feel a bit swoony. Somehow, Tiel liked em enough to pursue em; somehow, Tiel considered em worth getting to know.
Now, though, with Tiel having gotten what he wanted, Heron’s heart and eir body and eir time, that all seemed to have worn away.
Tiel shifted beside em, arms reaching out to drag em closer, and whispered against eir
Instead, ey was glad when Tiel said he wouldn’t be able to return that night. “Mum and Da said I’ll have to work late to make up for starting late this morning,” he said, rolling his eyes. The next day Heron’s ma would be back, putting an end to the potential of privacy.
“Hey,” Tiel said through a yawn as they stood together at the door. “Will you talk to your mum once she’s back? For me?” He gave Heron the sad-eyed expression that had once made em feel something.
“All right,” ey said, because what else could ey say? “I will.”
Apparently ey was going to let emself be swept along with this plan of Tiel’s. Ey knew ey didn’t have to, knew ey had the power to dig in eir heels, but how was ey supposed to explain to Tiel beyond That’s not what I want? Tiel wouldn’t be satisfied with that answer, but when Heron tried to imagine what else ey might say, eir mind went fallow as a field in winter.
Was ey really still holding onto some ideal of “true love” that only existed in stories? Tiel’s parents were constantly at each other’s throats; Ma’s partner had left her when Heron was young. Compared to those relationships, eirs and Tiel’s was exemplary.
“Excellent!” Tiel leaned in to plant a kiss on Heron’s lips before opening the door and stepping out backward. “Meet me for dinner at Keyn’s afterward? I’ll pay. We can make all our plans!” He waved as he turned around, leaving Heron staring after him. Apparently ey had just agreed to talk to Ma immediately upon her return—and start planning eir new life with Tiel immediately after that.
* * *
As it turned out, though, Heron wasn’t able to ask Ma about Tiel’s scheme the next day—because, by the time ey’d finished the chores, washed up, and dressed to leave for their dinner, she still wasn’t back. If she’d set out in the morning, as she’d said she would, she should have arrived by now…
Ey tried not to worry. Maybe she’d had a late night with new friends, and had decided to leave later. Maybe she’d grown tired on the ride back and had decided to stop and rest. Maybe business had delayed her, her foot-pedal-powered laundry machine so popular at the fair that she’d been swamped with commissions. You worry too much, ey could hear her saying when ey asked where she’d been. I’m supposed to be the parent here.
At least it meant ey could postpone the big talk a bit longer. As a conciliation to Tiel, ey wore the red shirt he had given em, its ruffled sleeves always making em feel ridiculous even though Tiel said it looked dashing.
For as long as the farm was in sight ey cast glances over eir shoulder, watching for a glimpse of Old Pete pulling their wagon up the road from the opposite direction. But there was nothing.
“Look at you!” Tiel rose from the table where he waited in the midst of the inn’s other guests, grabbing Heron’s hands and looking em over. “All dressed up. Does this mean we’re celebrating?”
Fuck, the shirt had been a mistake. “Not yet.” Ey pulled eir hands free to take eir seat. “Ma isn’t back yet.”
“Really? Honestly, Heron, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re avoiding talking to her!”
“Are you accusing me of hiring thieves to waylay her or something?”
“No, not that, but maybe you saw her coming and ran away?”
Now of all times, Heron was not in the mood for Tiel’s jokes. Ey just shook eir head and glanced around for the barkeep so ey could get a much-needed drink.
“Wait, are you actually worried?” Tiel stretched a hand across the table, and Heron gave in and slid eirs into it. “You know she probably just got wrapped up in something and ended up leaving late.”
Heron couldn’t argue with that after ey’d had the same thought emself, but those perfectly reasonable words weren’t enough to quell eir buzzing nerves. Tiel didn’t care about that, though; he only cared that Heron couldn’t yet commit to his plan.
Why was ey having such uncharitable thoughts? Worry made em ill-tempered, apparently. If only ey had the spine to tell Tiel ey wasn’t up to this dinner and wanted to go home. If only ey wasn’t holding back in part because ey knew Tiel would argue.
They got food and drink; Heron picked at the former as Tiel prattled about getting em a job at his parents’ office, how ey was certainly qualified since ey did all the bookkeeping for the farm, and then they’d work together and it would be so much more bearable with Heron there, they would never have to be apart and Heron would never know a moment’s rest again…
No, wait, Heron’s ill temper had supplied that last part. Eir gaze kept returning to the window as the day’s light ebbed away. Ma might have gotten back by now, and would tease em about not being there to greet her. Tiel was right that she got distracted and absorbed in things easily—but that was the precise reason Heron worried about her. Ey could just see her setting out at sunset, not thinking about the impending darkness and how it would require her to spend a night in the forest.
“Heron?”
Fuck, ey hadn’t been listening and now Tiel was going to give em shit for that. But no, actually, he was giving Heron a concerned look this time.
“Do you want to go back and see if your ma’s home?”
Heron was nearly struck speechless at the suggestion. That Tiel would actually think of that, and offer it—it was nearly unprecedented. “Would you mind terribly?”
“I would mind only slightly,” Tiel answered graciously. He stood, giving Heron no chance to argue. Heron downed the rest of eir drink and followed suit. But as ey turned away from the table, ey caught Tiel holding up a finger to someone at the bar—one of his friends, who gave him a nod in return. That explained it. Tiel was getting rid of em so he could spend time with someone more fun.
“You don’t have to walk me out,” Heron muttered as Tiel started to follow em to the door.
“Why, of course I do! What kind of man would I be if I left you to the mercies of the night fiends waiting to swoop down on unsuspecting travelers?” Apparently his high spirits were back now that he had the prospect of a pleasant evening before him again.
“You know there are—” ey started to return, intending to remind Tiel that it really was dangerous to travel at night, and ey wasn’t worrying over nothing. But Tiel went on over em.
“Or is it the Barringtons you’re afraid of? Maybe they’ve just been waiting for an unsuspecting inventor to wander by in the dead of night, when their powers are at their height!”
This was why Heron had no patience for Tiel’s dramatics anymore—he didn’t know when they were appropriate and when they weren’t. Tiel knew that Heron was not concerned about a family of mages who supposedly lived in a castle deep in the forest, where they conducted magical experiments. Ey’d loved those stories as a child—magic and castles and mysteries… But that was all they were. Stories.
“Be safe!” Tiel called as Heron walked away from the inn, his gallantry apparently extending only as far as the establishment’s door. “Don’t get eaten or magicked!”
Heron gave him a rude gesture without looking back, and Tiel laughed. He always laughed. He didn’t fucking know when to stop laughing.
On the other hand… him not taking Heron seriously was the only reason Heron felt comfortable doing anything like pushing back.
2
Heron arrived back to a still-empty house. Ey slept fitfully and woke feeling almost more irritated than worried. If Ma showed up today blithely declaring that she’d simply decided to spend an extra day in the city…
Ey was milking the goat when what ey assumed was a large insect buzzed in eir ear. Ey raised a hand to swat it away, and hit—metal? The thing fell to the barn floor with a soft thunk, and ey stared down at it. A golden cylinder lay in the straw, sporting two intricate metal wings, complete with individual feathers. As ey reached for it, it fluttered to life to hover in the air again.
At first ey drew back, staring at the thing with a frown, but then ey extended eir hand. The object—creature?—flew forward and alit on eir palm, wings going still.
