Page 16 of Triadic

He drank Corbi's concoction all the way down—never once had he complained about anything Corbi had asked him to do, even though I knew from experience the medicinal tinctures weren't exactly tasty—then replaced the cup on the table. He grabbed his little Snowy and squeezed the stuffed dog, then kissed her head, and my heart ached.

Peter got up and left the room to head to the washroom, and I took a moment to forcibly gather myself and regain my composure. I was torn in so many directions and not exactly neutral and rational. Just watching Peter kiss a stuffed dog had desire ripping through me. Now I knew what he looked like when he kissed something, the soft sound of him smooching her, and goddammit, I wanted that to be me.

And then there was the confused sadness and longing at seeing his return to health. Of course, I was happy that he was recovering quickly now that he was off the purging medicine, but as he regained his balance and could move about on his own, he no longer needed us to stay nearby in case he needed help. I wanted him to get healthy again, Iabsolutely did, but I also knew that we would be forgotten soon. He wouldn't need us.

"I can go if you're good," I said when he came back, my insecurities spilling out of my mouth.

Though he still looked exhausted, he was moving well at least, no sign of dizziness or instability. Peter shook his head. "I like having you and Corbi here, but I don't want to trouble you."

"You're no trouble at all," I answered immediately. "We like being here."

"Stay as long as you like, then," he said, sitting down on the bed. "I prefer to be upfront. If I need space, trust that I'll speak up."

His frankness took me by surprise, and I laughed. "Understood."

He leaned over, bumping shoulders with me. "What are you reading?"

"An old book on bardic triads," I answered. "They're triplicate pneumonic devices that are very useful teaching tools on multiple levels. Take each of the three parts as a meditation topic that'll bear fruit upon multiple sessions. Then put them all together and encourage your brain to synthesize them. Even if they seem like a riddle at first, if you're diligent, then possible solutions will eventually reveal themselves."

His brows rose and he blinked at the pages. Maybe he wore reading glasses and had lost them in the forest.

"Give me one," he prompted. "I want to try it."

This was a moreadvanced book of ancient Welsh bardic triads, but I had the basic ones from my beginning training learned by heart. "Three planes on which human beings have bodies."

I lifted my brows at him, but he shook his head in confusion, not even hedging a guess.

I answered for him. "The physical body on the material plane; the life force on the etheric plane; and the thoughts, emotions and desires of the astral plane."

His eyes widened. "Corbi heals using the etheric plane. It's when he hovers his hands over me. He said he's scanning my life force with his and can siphon off any negative gunk generated by my suffering, as well as any vampiric critters that might be drawn to it."

I was impressed he'd remembered that much, considering he'd been so sick. "Very good. And the others?"

"The material body is pretty self-explanatory," he hedged.

I cocked a brow at him in faux judgment. "If you say so."

He laughed and I beamed at him, so thrilled by his joy.

"Autsch," he whined and covered his stomach again with shallow pants.

I put a comforting arm around his shoulder tentatively, and he leaned into me, accepting the touch.

"No laughing," he whispered to himself. "Hurts."

"Tut mir leid, Peter," I apologized.

He shook his head, and after we sat there a moment to let his pain die down, he took the challenge up again.

"If the astralplane is the one where emotions, desires, and thoughts live…I imagine it's not a great place to be. Humans are grubby buggers. I honestly don't want to know what most people desire or think about."

"That's fair, and it's why the monks here perform daily protective practices," I conceded. "As humans, our consciousness is not contained inside our skulls. It is more liquid and permeable than that. If you want to separate yourself from the thought processes of your society as much as possible and try to think for yourself, you have to start by examining your own thoughts and begin slowly learning when a thought is yours and when it came from elsewhere."

During my explanation, his mouth had slowly fallen open. By the time I was done, he looked so silly I giggled. He grinned, then waved me off. "That was Helvetican German, but I didn't understand a word of it."

"Another time, then," I concluded.

"Absolutely. I'll approach that one when my brain is more awake."