by Lily Archer
Beth collects the rest of the dishes and grins. “Taylor,” she calls and hitches a thumb behind her. “The stream is that way.”
“Oh.” My mate’s cheeks color a sweet pink as she huffs past lugging the stew pot.
“Spirited.” Thorn nods.
“She’s certainly got a mind of her own.” I stretch out my legs and rise, my senses attuned to each of her steps.
“I’d expect nothing less of your mate.” Thorn clears his throat. “But, perhaps you haven’t noticed, she’s a changeling.”
“Of course he’s noticed, Thorn.” Gareth kicks dirt onto the low flames.
“I meant that in a charming fashion.”
“Charm somewhere else.” Gareth finishes snuffing the fire.
Thorn picks a piece of gristle from his teeth. “I’m only saying that it’s an interesting pairing and one that might cause some issues with a handful of the old guard nobles.”
“She’s a changeling.” I shrug. “But she’s my mate. If anyone has a problem with her, then they have a problem with me. And as you know, I’m a problem solver.” Aggression boils through my tone.
“And then there’s the little problem of longevity.” Thorn tucks his dark gray hair behind his ear. “She will die.”
“There has to be some way to change that.” I glance over my shoulder to make sure she’s not listening in. “There are magics that can reshape her fate.”
Thorn whistles. “Only the dark can do that. And the price you’d have to pay—”
“Would be too high.” Gareth stands and meets my eye. “You know how magic works, Leander. It takes and takes and takes. Something like this? I’ve never heard of it being possible, but if it is, you can be sure it will have a terrible price.”
“Then I’ll pay it,” I snap. “I will never allow her to suffer and die, not when I’ve finally found her.”
Gareth shares a warning look with Thorn.
I force myself to lower my tone. “One thing at a time. We need to get across the border. The winter winds will soothe my feral fae, and I’ll be able to think more clearly about her and deal with the trouble building along our borders. Thorn, fly back to High Mountain and send Brannon to investigate. Give word that we’re returning, but keep the information about Taylor to yourself. Have the rest of the Phalanx wait for us at the Timeroon border crossing. We’ll be there in a fortnight at the latest. Go.”
“Yes, sire.” Thorn gives me a brief lowering of his head before turning and running. In a flash, he turns into a silver hawk and pumps his mighty wings, shooting up through the trees and wheeling away into the sun.
“Why does he always have to do a dramatic exit?” Gareth peers after him. “Showboat.”
“He’s loyal.” I rub my temples. “But he’s an ass.”
“Same can be said for the entire Phalanx.” Gareth smiles. “I like to think I’m the most stubborn of all of us, though. Pride myself on it.”
“I tend to agree.” I clap him on the back, my dark mood lessening. “Let’s get ready to ride. The winter realm beckons.”
“I feel it, too.” He pounds his chest. “Ice calls to ice.”
I stride through the woods as Gareth packs up camp. Beth and Taylor are returning from the stream, Taylor complaining that Beth barely let her wash a dish. I can’t see them through the trees yet, but I can hear them arguing.
Beth lets out an exasperated sigh. “Look, girl, I’ve been doing cooking and laundry and scrubbing since I was a wee one.”
“So?”
“So, your technique needs work.”
Taylor grumbles as they appear just up ahead. “I washed dishes some when I lived at home. But in college I didn’t have to do dishes or cook. I mean, I subsisted on Hot Pockets and ramen most of the time. Give me a microwave and some paper plates, and I can show you what I’m made of.”
“You speak fae, but nothing you just said made any sense.”
Taylor wrinkles her nose. “It’s technology. It makes life easier.”
“Sounds like nonsense to me. Give me a good pot and a fire, and I can make anything your heart desires.” Beth brushes past me.
I put out a hand to stop Taylor. “A word?”
Beth takes the bowls from Taylor and continues toward camp.
“What is it?” Her irritation with Beth bleeds over to me.
“I wanted to ask about…” About what you said about people changing, but not for the better. But the way she looks now—slightly dejected and frustrated—has me changing my mind. “About Hot Pockets. What are they?” When she said the phrase the first time, a certain image came to mind, but surely that’s not what she’s referring to. Couldn’t be.
“Oh.” She smiles, some of the tension leaving her. “They’re food. Like sort of bread wrapped around ham and cheese or pepperoni pizza—cheese and tomato sauce. They’re super easy to cook and best of all, cheap. Like ramen. Those are noodles that don’t cost a lot.”
“Did you go without in the human world?”
She shrugs as a bird sings overhead, its song bright and warm. “I didn’t always have food to eat, no.” Her gaze falls, as if she’s hiding her face from me. “My mom was gone a lot when I was a kid, so I had to take care of myself. And in college, I’m there on scholarship, but I didn’t have extra money. I worked, but what I made got spent on books and my dorm room.”
No easy life for my mate. I should have guessed. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine. Plenty of people had less than I did. And I was lucky enough to get into college.”
“Lucky? I don’t think so. You worked hard, even when it wasn’t easy for you.” I push a little further. “And your father?”
“He was never around. Left when I was little. But my mother always had boyfriends.” She tangles her fingers together and squeezes. “And I had a stepfather for a short while.”
Just the way she says the word ‘stepfather’ has me bristling. Something is wrong there. “Your stepfather, was he kind?” I keep my tone light despite the vengeance pulsing through me.
“He’s dead.” Her head tilts even lower. “What about you? I’m sure you’ve had hard times in all your years.”
A deflection, but one I have to let go for now. She’s opening up to me bit by bit. But her question takes me off guard. How can I answer? Should I describe the terrors of war, the fae I’ve killed, the many lives that have been lost under my command? Should I tell her of the weeks when my soldiers and I starved on the fields of battle after Shathinor’s forces destroyed our provisions and burned the surrounding farmlands to ash?
Like her, I choose to deflect. “Nothing worthwhile is ever easy.” I cup her face with one hand. “And that includes us. I know it’s a lot. When I step back and try to think about it from your point of view, it’s overwhelming. A new world full of strangers with one of them claiming to be your eternal mate. But you are strong. You’ve shown me that time and again since I met you.”
“I think you’ve got me wrong.” Her cheeks pink. “I’m just a student looking for a way back home.”
I don’t say that I’m her home. It’s in my heart, though, and one day she will know it’s true. “We should get going. The forest will start to clear from here on out, then we’ll pass over the Misty River and into the Red Plains.”
“Two more weeks until the border, right?” She wipes a stray strand of hair off her brow.
“Two more weeks,” I agree.
We make our way back to the camp in a comfortable silence, though my thoughts push ahead, imagining the day we enter my lands. Two more weeks before the winds of winter soothe me, fuel me, and give Taylor a taste of the power lying dormant inside her mate.
8
Taylor
The Red Plains are aptly named. Stark and forbidding, the landscape stretches out before us, the ground bloodred and covered with twists of brambles and something akin to sage. This morning we emerged from the trees and rode until we found a narrow lane.
“We’ll stick to the ro
ad from here on out.” Gareth peers into the distance where I can almost see dark jagged peaks.
“I feel so … exposed.” Beth pulls her ratty shawl around her shoulders. “And the merchants gawk at us when they pass.”
“It’s safer on the road. More traffic here. If we wandered out into the plain, we’d be far too obvious, not to mention, the land is full of pitfalls, sinking red sands, and a number of other dangers.” Leander pulls my hair from my nape and blows cool air across my skin.
I almost moan with relief. How does he know what I need before I do? The sun has grown hotter, the sanctuary of the trees now a dense green wall at our backs. Here, there is no respite, no fairy lights flitting around, no lazy streams. Ahead, a dark river cuts a slash against the encroaching crimson, and a ramshackle town—almost like something out of the Old West—sits on the opposite bank.
“What’s that?”
“Blood Run,” Gareth offers. “The only town in the Red Plains. Full of schemers, travelers, and outlaws.”
“So it’s Mos Eisley from Star Wars.” I smile at my faint geek knowledge, well aware that no one else will get my reference to the spaceport where Luke and Obiwan meet Han Solo for the first time.
“Sounds like my kind of town,” Beth says after giving me a blank look. “Too bad it’s ugly.”
“Inside and out,” Gareth agrees.
“Are we stopping there?” I stretch, and Leander grips my waist.
“For supplies, but not for the night. It’s not safe. We’re better protected on the road where we can see what’s coming.” He slides his palms upward, as if committing my shape to memory.
“I was really hoping for a bed.” Beth frowns. “I haven’t slept in a bed since …” She pauses and stares into the middle distance. “I guess it depends on if a pile of empty grain sacks counts as a mattress.”
She’s had such a hard life. The bite marks on her body only tell one part of her harrowing story. I want to know more, but she deflects every time I ask about her life as a changeling slave. I do the same when she asks about my past, so I can’t blame her for it. Some parts of a person’s history are better left alone, though they’re never forgotten.
“Your master was Granthos?” Gareth asks.
“Yes,” she says tightly.
He grunts in response but doesn’t say anything else about it.
Beth shoots me a questioning glance, then shrugs and turns back toward the town. “I hope they have bread.”
“Me too.” That is a train I’m happy to ride. “Carbs are life.”
“Carbs?” Leander blows against my nape again, and I want to moan.
“Carbohydrates. What bread is mostly made of.”
“Spoken like a true alchemist.” He says it with pride.
“I’m not an alchemist. Just an almost-chemist. Not the same. And besides, it’s pretty common knowledge that bread has carbs. It’s why I love it so much. Carbs are my jam.”
“I know jam. We have an entire store room at High Mountain full of it.” I can hear the smile in his voice. “Any flavor you’d like.”
I laugh and lean against him. His chest has become my back pillow and his arms my seatbelt. “In that case, I’ll be sure to raid the jam room when we arrive.” But then I’ll go home. A pang of hurt slashes through me at the thought. The idea of leaving is still my goal, but somehow, each day I spend with Leander, it gets harder to think about. Not to mention the bonds I’ve built with Beth and Gareth. I don’t have anything like it back home—my only pseudo-friend, Cecile, is the one who sent me here, so she’s more of a backstabbing enemy. I still ponder why she did it but haven’t been able to piece it together. Then a thought stings me like wasp, and I almost jump off the horse.
“Hang on. HANG ON!” I yell so loud that Kyrin startles.
“What?” Leander tenses and draws his sword.
“Byrn Varyndr.” I clap a hand over my face.
“The capital of the summer realm?” Leander’s voice is tight and wary. “What about it?”
“It translates to Long Island.” I grit my teeth as some pieces of the puzzle click together. “I didn’t realize it until I learned fae, and I didn’t think about it until right this second. But in English, it means Long Island.”
“You lost me.” Beth’s eyebrows crinkle.
“Cecile always said she came from Long Island!” I take a breath and try to keep my voice calm; I’ve scared Kyrin enough. “And see, I thought she meant Long Island, New York, but all along I think what she really meant was Byrn Varyndr.”
Beth’s eyebrows unknot. “So your roommate is a summer realm fae?”
“Yes!” Kyrin jumps a little, and I pet his mane. “Sorry, buddy. I’m going to be quieter. But yeah, I think that must be it. She’s a summer realm fae, maybe some sort of exchange? I don’t know.”
“Exchanges don’t realize they’re fae.” Leander stows his sword. “She’s something else. Fae, but not a traditional exchange.”
“Then what is she doing over there?” Beth gnaws on her thumbnail. “I’ve never heard of anything like it.”
“Neither have I.” Gareth frowns. “We’ll need to speak with Ravella about it when we get to High Mountain. She’s the only one who may know how Cecile is in the human world, and why she sent you here, for that matter.”
I sigh and settle down. One thing has become clear, but the rest of it is still hidden from me. All these questions bumping around in my skull are beginning to tangle with each other, the wires crossing. Leander seems to hear the noise in my head and rubs my upper arms slowly, pulling my thoughts away from the mystery until I focus on his gentle touches instead.
Gareth leads us to the river, the surface covered in a low fog dotted with whorls, as if something spins below the surface. A wide bridge made of splintering timbers and mossy stone is the only way across from what I can see. A buggy approaches, and a man with a pair of skeletal wings jutting from his back gives us a simple nod as he passes.
“What was that?” I try not to stare.
“Lesser fae. They can be a mix of different races but have a line of high fae blood in them.”
“Why do you call them lesser? Seems sort of … snobby.”
Leander sighs. “It’s simply the way it’s always been. An easy way to delineate between full-blooded high fae and those with mixed heritage.”
I wrinkle my nose. “Even if you don’t mean it as an insult, it doesn’t mean it’s right. ‘Lesser’ has a negative connotation, no matter how you say it.”
“I agree.” Leander steers us to the side of the road as another, larger buggy passes.
“Leander tried to change the classifications of beings in the winter realm long ago, but the distinctions still persist.” Gareth leads, his broad back hiding Beth from view. “He wanted to do away with the separate classes and simply have ‘fae’.” Gareth grumbles under his breath. “The nobles, though, would not have it, threatened outright rebellion. We didn’t need more bloodshed, not after the centuries we’d already spent at war. At least, that was my counsel. Leander wanted to decree it, the nobles be damned.”
“They’re fools,” Leander says matter-of-factly.
“They are. But we need stability,” Gareth’s words seem like pieces of an argument the two fae have had quite a few times. He waves a hand. “That discussion is for another day. For now, Taylor and Beth, be on your guard at all times. Don’t speak to anyone.”
“We’ll come back to the discussion, and my queen will have a voice in it.” Leander squeezes my hand. “But Gareth is right. Blood Run is a pit, one we can’t afford to fall into. Gareth and I will conduct our business, gather supplies, and then we’ll be off.”
“Sounds like a real good time,” Beth snipes.
The road gets busier as we ride into town. Creatures that defy imagination mill about on either side of the lane, entering shops or arguing with each other. Some of them are high fae, their stature and ears giving them away. Others are more of a mystery, though I can see what
I think are a few changelings scattered around on wooden porches stained red from the dirt. We cross an alleyway, and I see two bare-chested males fighting, both of them swinging huge axes, their battle yells ignored by everyone. The view is gone as we continue down the road. Maybe Gareth wasn’t exaggerating about how dangerous this town is.
Pulling up in front of a storefront, Gareth jumps down and peers around the street. Plenty of fae watch us, some of them whispering to each other. I suppose seeing two winter realm fae with a couple of bedraggled changelings isn’t a common occurrence.
“I need a hat.” I glance up at the too-bright sky. “The trees shielded me in the forest, but out here I’ll burn to a crisp.”
“Clothes, too.” Beth throws a leg over her mount and jumps down. “You need to cover up. So do I.”
“We told you to stay put and—” Gareth groans when I start to dismount. Leander grabs my waist and lowers me down slowly.
“Beth is right. We need clothes. Is there a store like that here?”
“This is the goods merchant, and you two aren’t going in.” Gareth looks at Leander with a stern expression.
Leander shrugs. “If my ma—” He glances around at the busy street. “My friend needs clothing, then she shall have it.”
“Fine. Let’s get inside before we draw even more attention to ourselves.” Gareth leads the way onto the porch and into the store, grumbling under his breath about females the entire time. Leander smirks and offers his arm. I get a little thrill as I take it and we enter the shop.
I wrinkle my nose as we step inside. “Why does it smell?”
“Meat.” Gareth points to a row of carcasses hanging behind a rough-hewn wooden counter.
“What sort of animals are those?” I peer at one ribcage that looks a little too human.
“You don’t want to know.” Leander sweeps me to the back of the shop as Gareth goes to speak to the fae with the beak at the counter.
“Not much to choose from.” Beth runs her hand along a rack of clothing, all of it dusky brown with black stitching. “But it’ll do.” She snags a couple of long-sleeved tunics.