Road To Winter (Fae's Captive Book 2)

by Lily Archer

  “Oh my god, pants!” I pull a pair off a spindly wooden hanger.

  Beth grabs another set and holds them up to her narrow hips. “These will do just fine. And look, new undergarments, thank the Ancestors!”

  “Is there a dressing room?” I look to the back of the shop, but the dark door leading farther inside isn’t particularly welcoming given that it has odd pelts nailed all around it.

  Leander steps away, and a filmy barrier appears around Beth and me. “I’ve cloaked you. No one can see.”

  Beth and I strip down.

  “No one but me.” He meets my eyes but doesn’t let his gaze drop to my naked body.

  A shiver tickles up my spine, sending jolts of heat shooting through me. How does he constantly manage to turn me into a horndog? When his lips tug into a smirk, I know he knows what I’m thinking. Mortifying.

  “Looking good.” Beth smooths my tunic down.

  “You’re going to need a belt.” The brown fabric sags around her waist.

  I turn to look for one, and Leander already has two in his hand, which he offers to me.

  “Thanks.” I take them, and Beth and I finish up. “Wait, shoes?”

  Once again, Leander already has two pairs ready.

  “Can fae read minds?” I kick off my worn and dirty slippers and slide on the leathery ones Leander chose.

  “Some can. But it’s super rare. Most fae can’t wield magic at all.”

  “Seriously?” I just assumed they all could.

  “I mean, most fae have a talent of some sort or other.” She grimaces. “My master had a talent for creatures. Not magic, exactly, but Granthos could communicate on a basic level with most beasts. And he could tell them what to do.” She doesn’t mention the scars that mark her body, but she doesn’t have to. Her master had commanded some sort of vampiric dog to feed on her. I only hope that one day he will receive the punishment he deserves.

  She stands and works her dark blonde hair into a big knot. “Anyway, magic isn’t so common—and the magic Leander and Gareth have? It’s unusual.” Swiping a couple of wide-brimmed hats from above the meager rack of clothing, she hands me one. “These will have to do. They don’t have anything else to choose from. Maybe they’ll last us through the plains.” She doesn’t sound too sure.

  “We’ll make them work.” I test Leander’s barrier with my finger. It sends a tingle up my arm. “We’re ready.”

  The barrier disappears.

  “Is there anything else you’d like?” Leander asks, his dark eyes gleaming as he inspects my new outfit.

  “Toothbrush.” I don’t think the shop has any. It’s more of a wilderness store, not one too concerned with hygiene. “Oooh, and a hairbrush.” It’s funny, but back home, my fiercest desire was a set of Baron Fig Squire pens. I was certain if I had those fancy pens, I’d actually journal everyday instead of once a week when I thought about it. Pipe dreams. Or, pen dreams, more accurately. But now? A simple toothbrush would make my day, week, year.

  “Tired of the twig toothbrushes I make for us?” Beth asks almost petulantly.

  “No, of course not.” I think fast. “But in the plains, there won’t be any trees, so you can’t make fresh ones.”

  She considers for a moment. “Good point.” Turning to Leander, she says, “We need toothbrushes.”

  Gareth is still arguing with the shopkeeper, though he’s amassed a small pile of goods on the counter.

  “Not here.” Leander leads us back to the door. “The inn across the street might have a few items like that. I’ll take you.”

  “Leander, this son of a yakhound is trying to charge us double simply because he doesn’t like my face.” Gareth towers over the shopkeeper, who snaps his beak.

  “I wouldn’t let my ugly sister sit on a face such as yours.” The shopkeeper has a row of green feathers along the top of his head that stand up in challenge.

  Leander sighs. “Wait here.”

  He strides to the counter. “We need supplies and are happy to pay a fair price for them. If you’d prefer to deal with me—”

  “You winter realm fae aren’t welcome here.”

  “I have coin. You have goods. Let’s discuss—”

  “Come on.” Beth tugs me out of the shop and onto the dusty porch.

  “Shouldn’t we wait for Leander?” I glance back into the shop, but it’s too dusky inside to see when the sun is so bright out here.

  “It’s just across the street. We’ll be fine. They’re a couple of over-protective ninnies.” She steps to the edge of the porch as another buggy passes along with a few horses. “Come on, here’s our chance.”

  I let her pull me off the porch and into the dusty road. We hurry across, avoiding all the creatures on the opposite porch as we step up.

  “See?” Beth smiles.

  “Okay, but let’s hurry. You know how Leander gets.”

  “Insanely possessive?” she says brightly.

  “Yeah, that.” I snug my hat down tightly on my head, mainly to ward off the prying eyes of the nearby fae.

  “We can handle ourselves.” She leads the way into the inn. “Don’t worry so mu—” Her shriek cuts her words in half as a large fae grabs her and shackles her wrists.

  “Let her go!” I rush forward as the creatures in the inn scatter, knocking over tables and chairs. Grabbing Beth’s arm, I try to pull her from the fae. He’s almost as large as Leander, strength rolling off him. He wears a bandanna around the lower half of his face. When I see his dark eyes, I suspect he’s a winter realm fae.

  “She’s mine.” He keeps a hard grip on the chain between her shackles as she struggles to free herself, then he pushes up the brim of my hat. “Are you a runaway, too?”

  “Run!” Beth kicks him in the shins, but he doesn’t seem bothered. “It’s the Catcher!”

  “Leander!” I think my yell is loud enough to be heard all the way back at the summer palace.

  The inn darkens, a chill blowing through the building so quickly that my teeth chatter. Leander enters behind me, his presence like a tangible fist of cold.

  “Release her.” He holds his sword with lethal ease and softly maneuvers me behind him.

  “Get him!” I pat him on the back. It’s pretty much the extent of my usefulness in this situation.

  “The Catcher, is it?” Leander’s voice is coated with ice, though he lowers his sword.

  The Catcher dips his chin just a bit in Leander’s direction. Was that respect?

  Gareth rushes in, blades in each hand. The inn has completely cleared out, as if we’re having a showdown in a ghost town.

  “Release the changeling.” Gareth advances, his ire even greater than Leander’s.

  I peer around my fae warrior. No, not ‘my.’ I try to shake the possessive thought free, but it seems stuck in the net of my mind.

  “She ran from her master,” the Catcher says, as if it explains everything.

  “And she is now a citizen of the winter realm. Free.” Gareth stands just out of reach.

  The Catcher palms a blade. “I hate to quibble, but you see, she isn’t in the winter realm. Therefore, she’s not free. Here, she’s just a runaway changeling.”

  “Quibble all you want, but you will release her.” Gareth raises his daggers.

  Leander reaches back and puts one hand on my hip, the other still holding his sword. Is he sitting this one out?

  “Release her?” The Catcher lifts her chain, then drops it. His hand flies out, far too quick for me to see anything other than a blur.

  I gasp, but Gareth easily deflects the blow, then counterattacks with a hard kick to the Catcher’s stomach. He flies backwards and out a glassless window into the street.

  Gareth storms past, and I rush over to Beth.

  “You okay?”

  She rattles her metal cuffs. “Never better.”

  “Leander, can you get these off her?”

  He reaches for them, but his skin sizzles, and he frowns. “They’re enchanted. Only the Ca
tcher can open them.”

  “Great,” Beth deadpans.

  A rough yell draws us out to the street, though Leander keeps both of us behind him.

  Gareth is spinning and striking like some sort of murder dynamo. The Catcher stumbles back, though he puts up an impressive defense.

  “Gareth is mad.” Beth cocks her head to the side. “Like, really mad.”

  It’s my turn to smirk at her. “I think he’s got a crush.”

  She makes a pffft noise and continues watching the fight. The street is bare, but plenty of creatures are gathered on porches watching the fray.

  “You aren’t going to help?” I grab Leander’s forearm.

  “He doesn’t need me.” He places one hand over mine. “Have I mentioned how much I enjoy it when you touch me?”

  “Only a few … hundred times.”

  He grins down at me. “Get used to it, little one.”

  “Are you two really going to do this when Gareth is fighting for his life?” Beth goes to step off the porch, but Leander holds her back.

  “Gareth is my deadliest warrior. You have no need to fear the outcome of this duel.”

  “Oh? No need to fear, eh?” Beth shakes him off. “Tell me, smart king, if Gareth kills the Catcher, then who will get these cuffs off?”

  Leander shrugs. “He won’t be killed.”

  “How do you know?” Beth groans, then steps into the street. “Hey, assholes!”

  My eyebrows pop up. I’ve never heard her curse before. Gareth and the Catcher pause.

  “I need him to remove these cuffs, so don’t kill him.”

  “He harmed you.” Gareth narrows his eyes.

  “No, he just tried to kidnap me. I’m not hurt.” Beth holds up her hands. “But these have to go.”

  “All right. That’s enough.” Leander raises his hand and sends a blast of icy cold shooting through the street. The spectators disappear into the buildings or turn tail and run toward the bridge.

  Gareth whirls and aims a blow for the Catcher’s throat, but the Catcher manages to stop it with his own blade just before contact. I grip Leander harder. I don’t know if I’m ready to see this. Tyrios still flits around the edges of my mind, not haunting me exactly, but the way he died isn’t something I can simply erase. Am I ready to see another death?

  Leander shoots me a concerned glance, then calls, “Phinelas, that’s enough.”

  “Phinelas?” Gareth yanks the bandanna away from the male’s face.

  A handsome grin fills in the blanks. “Gareth.”

  “What in the Spires is going on?” Gareth roars.

  “Okay, now I’m beyond confused.” Beth leans against me.

  Leander waves the two males over. “Let’s go inside. It’s not something we want to discuss out here.”

  9

  Leander

  Gareth is still steaming when he walks into the barren inn, but he relaxes a hair when Phin releases Beth from her cuffs.

  “Why are you on a first-name basis with the Catcher?” Taylor asks as I set a chair to rights for her.

  “I’ve never met the Catcher.” I flip a table onto its legs and a few more chairs, then sit beside her.

  “I’m lost.” She stares at Phinelas, but not as hard as Gareth glares at him.

  “Phin is one of ours, a member of the Phalanx, but I was under the impression he was investigating the disappearances.” Gareth splits the glare evenly between Phinelas and me.

  Phin pockets the cuffs, then hops over the bar at the back of the room and returns with a few bottles. “I am investigating … in my way.” He sets the bottles on the table along with some glasses.

  “By parading around as the Catcher?” Gareth leads Beth to a chair and holds it for her. I don’t think he even knows he’s doing it.

  She grins and takes her seat, then pretends to fluff a fancy skirt.

  Gareth notices and grits his teeth, then takes his usual grumpy tone toward her. “And you! Going around and getting yourself caught, putting Taylor in danger. I ought to take you outside and—”

  “Gareth, calm down.” I kick a seat out toward him.

  Gareth catches it.

  “Phin is here on my orders.” I await Gareth’s outburst, but he sits and crosses his arms over his chest.

  Silence from him is never a good sign.

  I hurry on with my explanation. “When the disappearances began increasing, especially among changelings, I decided the best way to question changelings from the summer realm would be for one of ours to take over the role of the Catcher. That would give us unfettered access to changelings, maybe even ones who intended to set off for the Gray Mountains.”

  “That’s all well and good.” Gareth snatches a drink from the table. “But you didn’t think to tell me? I’m your second in command, and you hide this from me?” He takes a drink, then sputters, “And you’ve allowed Phin to catch these poor changeling slaves and return them to their horrible masters?”

  “No.” I sniff Taylor’s drink before letting her taste it. “He doesn’t return any of the changelings to their masters. He takes them to the winter realm and sets them free.”

  “Then how does he ever get any work? If he doesn’t deliver?”

  Phin salutes me with his drink. “I never deliver, but there’s a very real Catcher out there who does. The trick is for me to get his assignments before he does. He knows about me, or at least he knows he has an impersonator. But, as we suspected, he isn’t divulging that information to clients. It would be a sure way to kill off business. Instead, he’s been chasing me whenever he’s in-between jobs, trying to take me down quietly.”

  “Why not tell me about this?” Gareth is still a thundercloud.

  “Because you would have said no.” Phin downs his drink and pours another.

  “You’re damn right I would have said no!” Gareth is close to bellowing. “You put our truce with the summer realm in danger by freeing their changelings!”

  “But it’s the right thing to do, old friend.” I put my hand on his shoulder. “You know it is.”

  “Maybe it is, but strategically—”

  “Don’t think about strategy. Think about how you felt when you saw Beth in irons.”

  “Well, that’s—” He shakes his head. “That’s different.”

  “Because you like me so much, right?” Beth grins and drinks her whiskey as if it were water.

  Gareth’s bluster dies a bit as he sputters out a vague denial that ends with “damn females” and a chug from one of the bottles.

  Under the table, Taylor takes my hand. “You’ve been freeing changelings?”

  “Technically, Phin has.” I grab my drink and raise it. “To Phin.”

  Gareth grumbles but lifts his bottle. “This isn’t over. We are going to discuss this, Leander.”

  “Let’s do it on the road.” I can feel the townspeople scurrying around just outside of our presence. “We’ve attracted enough attention. Phin, keep the work going and save as many as you can. I’ll get word to you once it’s time to return to High Mountain.”

  “One more thing before we part.” Phin levels his gaze at Taylor.

  A sharp tingle spikes along the back of my neck, the feral fae taking issue with Phin’s direct stare.

  “Why are you taking these changelings to High Mountain?”

  “That’s not your concern.” Gareth rises.

  I stand and offer Taylor my hand. She takes it and rises beside me.

  Phin’s eyes open wide, his countenance puzzled as he tries to piece together why I would be so familiar with a changeling. “Is there a reason to hope? Is the curse finally…” He rises so fast his chair falls over. “Your mate. This changeling is—”

  “Not another word, Phin.” Gareth peers around at the walls.

  “My spell has muted our talk, but we can’t be too careful.” I put my arm around Taylor, and to my never-ending pleasure, she leans into me.

  Phin smiles, and it takes such a weight from him. “Thi
s news is—I can’t begin to describe it.” He strides to us, pulls out his blade, and kneels before Taylor, his oath pouring out of him as he bows his head. My most trusted warriors never disappoint me, and their unerring loyalty is worth more to me than any riches the summer realm can boast of.

  “Bladanon thronin.” She says the words without hesitation and with a quiet strength that runs through her from head to toe. Though she doesn’t know it yet, she will be a formidable queen, one I will always be honored to call my mate.

  10

  Taylor

  The sky is so huge, pounding down to the ground in shades of deep blue, and a crimson dust devil twirls off in the distance.

  “Does anyone live out here?” I pull the brim of my hat down low.

  Leander shades his eyes. “These lands are home to the Vundi, a nomadic band of lesser fae. I’ve heard tales of a vast network beneath the surface of the plains, roads of iron and halls of stone, a Vundi community, but I’ve never seen it.”

  “Doesn’t exist.” Gareth leads his horse down the right side of the narrow, red road. “Someone would have seen it by now, come back and told us. Besides, the Vundi are violent and territorial. They don’t have what it takes to build some sort of vast underground cavern like that.”

  “Sounds like the Mines of Moria.”

  “The mines?” Gareth points to his left across the Red Plains. “Those are far away to the south.”

  “No.” I smile at my tidbit of human knowledge—even if it’s fiction. “The Mines of Moria are in a book. Well, I didn’t read the books, but I saw the movies. It’s this huge underground place, up under a mountain, and they have enormous halls and rooms and an entire city. It’s fancy and has dwarves.”

  “Hmm.” Leander blows on my neck again. “Sounds somewhat like the caves of the Wyvern Range. They’re a set of mountains along the winter realm’s northern border. I’ve been beneath Caron’s Cap, the tallest of the peaks, but I can assure you that dark, dank place is nothing like what you’ve described.”

  “Sounds scary.” I turn back to look at him.

  “We have no reason to venture there.” His grip tightens on me almost imperceptibly. “You will find safety at High Mountain and have no need of travelling farther.”