by Lily Archer
Another whinny brings my attention to the horses in the stalls along the back wall. Two large black stallions watch us, their eyes like liquid midnight. I have no doubt who they belong to.
“Come on.” I help Lenetia up and half carry her down the row, the scents of manure, leather, and hay tickling my nose.
When we reach the large horses, they don’t move, just look at us with what seems like a superior expression.
“Hi?” I’ve never ridden a horse, and these don’t seem particularly friendly.
“Uppity horses. Typical fae rudeness.” Lenetia laughs, but the sound is weak.
“Will they let us ride them?”
“Only one way to find out.” She lifts the latch on the nearest stall and swings the door open.
The great beast doesn’t move, just gives us that same stare. I glance at the fae. He’s fallen onto his back, his eyes closed, but the blackness seems to have stopped spreading. I handle the blade gently as I slide it back into my pocket.
Lenetia speaks to the horse in fae. The horse breathes out hard and lifts its head, ignoring us. She grabs its bridle and pulls. It doesn’t move, and she gives up, sagging against me.
“Stuck up bastard of a horse,” she grouses.
“You need to use a gentle touch.” Gareth strides up.
I jump and turn to find Leander behind me. He reaches for me, and I fall into his arms with an ease that should give me pause. Instead, I take his warmth and let him hold me.
“Is that blood?” I lean back and stare at his shoulder.
He makes an unconcerned face and shrugs, then casts a glance at the stable fae and raises his eyebrows in question. I hold up the blade. He grins, pride in his eyes. Heat bursts along my skin, and I’m certain my cheeks turn rosy under his adoring stare.
Gareth speaks to the two black horses. They huff, but walk out of their stalls. They tower over me, and Leander gives the haughtiest one a familiar pat on the nose. Not wasting a second, Leander lifts me onto the beast and then climbs up behind me.
“She’s hurt.” I reach for Lenetia, but Gareth scoops her up and onto his horse.
“I’m fine.” Her eyelids flutter.
“Don’t let her fall asleep,” I warn, then yelp as the horse takes off toward the stable door.
Leander speaks to it in fae, and the beast jets out onto the cobblestone street and starts a thundering pace, scattering everyone in its path. The warm wind rushes by, creating a humming in my ears as the furious clip-clop of hooves echoes along the buildings ahead of us. The city is beautiful, flowering vines growing along the buildings and towering trees on every street corner. The buildings are made of the same pale stone as the castle. After a long while, we pass over a wide bay, its waters a bright Caribbean blue, and fly across the bridge and up the slight hill on the other side. The city is on an island, the water surrounding it like a vibrant, sparkling moat. But I’m not fooled by the beauty. Not after Tyrios and the fae in the stables.
Leander keeps one arm firmly around my waist as we hurtle down the road. The buildings eventually thin out, giving way to fields of unfamiliar crops and rows upon rows of flowers. Heat reflects from the blades of grass and hard dirt beneath the horses’ hooves. Everything is too warm, too beautiful. I let Leander hold me closer, his chest a comfortable wall at my back. The miles fly away under the horses’ steady gait. Deeper into the countryside we roam, the sun finally beginning to fade into a dusky twilight. I wonder again and again if this is just part of the odd dream that I must be having as I lie in the twin bed of my dorm room. But the jostling of the horse, the ache in my butt from the hard saddle, and the frequent kisses on the crown of my head from Leander tell me it’s all real.
“Is she okay?” I peek over at Lenetia.
“She’s awake.” Gareth frowns. “She’s been telling stories that would make a siren blush.”
“You love them.” Lenetia winks at me, though her face is pale. How long had she been in the dungeon when I landed there?
The horses slow somewhat as we crest a hill far outside the city that sparkles like a mirage. A deep wood sprouts up before us, the huge trees dappling the greenery beneath them with emerald light. It’s a forest from a fairy story, but does that mean there’s a wolf or worse inside?
Leander and Gareth kick off a long conversation as my eyelids finally begin to droop, the adrenaline of our escape wearing off. Leander rubs his thumb along my side in a circle. Round and round he’s been going for a few moments, the touch soft and sweet. I inhale his winter snow and roaring fires and relax against him as his voice rumbles in that oddly beautiful tongue. I’m in a strange land with an even stranger man—fae—who’s staked a claim on me.
We resume a gentler pace, heading for the forest.
“We’ll make camp in the Greenvelde Wood for the night,” Gareth says. “Then we’ll ride at dawn. It will be three weeks before we reach the border of the winter realm. Then another three to reach the High Mountain, our home.”
“Six weeks?” I clamp my eyes shut when the bridge of my nose begins to sting. “I have classes, and an exam, and my mom will eventually start looking for me and—” My breath catches in my chest as my voice rises. “And I don’t belong here.”
Leander wraps both arms around me and pulls me tight to him, his lips in my hair as he speaks low, foreign words. A tear slips down my cheek. I don’t know how he sees it, but he does, because he wipes it away.
The horses move forward again, carrying me toward the darkening forest and an uncertain fate.
12
Leander
Claim her, claim her, claim her, CLAIM HER. My blood thrums insistently as I settle down on my bedroll and pat the furs beside me.
Taylor has spent the past hour fretting over the other changeling, seeing to her wound, and going over a few basic fae words. I’ve been grilling Gareth for more phrases from the changeling language. More of it’s coming back to me, but I’m far from proficient.
I peer into the shadowy woods. Tiny fairies fly between the trees, chasing each other and stopping only to give us curious glances. They are far fairer than their winter realm brethren, but seem to be imbued with the same amount of mischief. We’ve already discovered some of our apples and briarberries are missing. We still managed a decent meal, though Taylor seemed unsure as I served her only the finest items from our provisions.
Gareth had laughed. “She says she can feed herself just fine.”
I’d kept on, ensuring she ate until she was full, and then tried to give her a little more. My mate would be well cared for, spoiled even. I smile at the thought and pat the furs again as Taylor rises from her spot next to the fire.
“Sleep,” I say in her language.
She points to Lenetia and says something to the effect that she’d prefer to sleep with the other changeling. A growl vibrates under my ribs.
Lenetia shoos Taylor away. “No way I’m getting between a fae and his mate. I like my head attached, thank you very much.” She says it again in English for Taylor’s benefit, then turns her back to us.
Taylor bites her lip and looks down at me, her eyes tracing my chest. I’m still wearing my tunic, even though I prefer to sleep nude. I don’t want to frighten her.
Gareth creeps around the edge of our camp, his steps silent to anyone else. My glamour camouflages our location, but it will dissipate if I fall asleep. Though, with my mate beside me, I don’t see how I can slumber.
She edges closer and babbles in the changeling language while still pointing at Lenetia. Her nerves are adorable.
“Sleep,” I tell her again, then hold my hands up, palms out. “Only sleep.” I want far more than just a night of rest with her. I’d happily claim her in front of Gareth and the changeling, such is the nature of my need for her. But she’s far too skittish for an open display.
“Just sleep?” She eyes the soft furs.
I nod.
She sighs, the fatigue evident in her movements. Keeping an eye on me, she sinks down b
eside me and lies on her back. The swell of her breasts makes my mouth water, and the moonlight shows her hardening nipples in sharp relief. Does she have any idea what she’s doing to me? I have to shift my hips to hide my stiff cock.
“Just sleep,” she repeats and looks at me, one eyebrow raised.
“Yes.” I reach over and pull her to me.
She yelps and says something.
Lenetia pipes up from her spot by the fire with words like “mate” and “bond” and some other things I can’t understand.
“Shh.” I lie on my side so Taylor can rest her head on my arm.
She turns her head and peers at my shoulder. “The wound?”
“Heal fast.” I say as best I can in her tongue. I intend to access my memories of the changeling language while I dream.
She says something like “not possible” and a few more things I can’t catch, then she glances at the orbs floating through the forest, the fairies at play under the moonlight. She repeats “not possible” and sighs.
“Possible.” I take her hand and press it to where the wound was. “Real.”
Her skin is so warm against mine, and I can’t imagine how good it will feel to have her hands all over me.
She swallows hard and crosses her arms over her stomach. Her small body is perfect next to mine, though I can’t believe the ancestors have gifted me with such a fragile mate. Not fae, not from the winter realm—she’s not one I would have ever thought was meant for me. But just being close to her calms every bit of the raging winter wind that has always swirled inside me.
She clears her throat, her eyes still wide open.
“You can’t sleep like this. You must relax.” I run my hand over hers. The cursedly warm air prevents me from soothing her beneath luxuriant furs, but all that will change soon. Soon, she will be moaning for me as I taste her sweet honey and take my time with her delicious body.
“She can’t relax with you pawing at her,” Lenetia calls.
Pawing? I would scoff, but I’m too attuned to my mate’s worry. “Tell her she’s safe with me. Tell her I’d never harm her or take anything from her without her consent.”
The changeling grumbles but translates. The words seem to calm my mate, the tension falling away from her.
She looks up at me, her stunning eyes sparkling. My heart beats for her, if only she could hear its song. Her tongue darts out and wets her lips. My blood howls through my veins, calling her name. The sweet scent rises from between her legs, and her breaths come a little faster. She feels the same need, the desire to be one with me, she’s just too scared to give in to it.
I settle next to her and whisper. “When I claim you as mine, you will come more exquisitely than you ever have in your life, little one.”
A shiver courses through her, as if she understands my words.
I hide my smile in her fragrant hair and hold her as she eventually drifts into a peaceful sleep.
13
Taylor
Leander cradles me all night, and I wake from dreams of crisp snow and icy lakes under a stunning blue sky. He was in them, too, but I push those memories aside.
His dark eyes meet mine, a hint of a smile on his angular face. “Sleep wet?” he asks.
“Um, what?” I scoot away, mortification turning my insides to lava. Was I so obvious? How could he tell what I’d been dreaming about? Oh my god. I press my thighs together. Can he smell me again?
“Well,” Lenetia calls as she stirs a pot over the fire. “You meant ‘sleep well.’”
“Well.” His smile grows. “Sleep well?”
I run my hand across my forehead. Sheesh. “Yes. You?”
“Well.” His hungry gaze strays down my body before catching my eyes again.
I swallow audibly and scramble up from the furs. My muscles ache from the night on the ground, and I try to stretch away the soreness as I walk to Lenetia. Leander rises and folds up the bedroll.
“You really let me down.” Lenetia stirs what looks like a bubbling stew that smells of vegetables and herbs.
My mouth waters. “Let you down?”
“I thought I was going to see some hot mating fuckery last night. All I saw was awkwardness and then sleeping.”
My cheeks turn about twenty shades of crimson. “I’m not mating.”
“You will be.” She scoops a ladle full of the stew into a wooden bowl and hands it to me. “You’ll be riding that king over there like he’s one of those stallions in no time.”
“That’s not—”
Leander walks past, a satisfied smile on his face, and straps the bedroll to his horse, Kyrin. I’m beginning to suspect he understands more English than he’s been letting on.
I lower my voice. “I’m not having sex with him, okay? I’m just trying to get back home.”
She snorts, the dirt along her cheeks cracking a little as she laughs. “Sure.”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.” She plops a wooden spoon into my bowl. “Eat up. Long day’s ride ahead.”
“I’ve never even done that before, so there’s no way—”
“Never what?” She licks an errant drop of stew from her thumb and pours herself a bowl.
“Never, you know.” I wish I hadn’t said anything.
“Never been with a male?” She plops down next to me on the fallen leaves that blanket the forest floor.
“No.” I take a bite of the stew and singe my tongue. Damn.
“Hmm.” She shrugs. “Well, you’re about to learn, queenie. So don’t fret.”
“You aren’t listening.” The food is delicious, despite the fact my tongue is in need of a burn unit. “I’m going to the winter realm so I can get back home. Not so I can be some queen or get with Leander—” I glance at him. He’s hefting the saddle onto the other horse, and his broad back muscles stretch the fabric of his dark shirt. That little tingle between my legs begins anew, and I have to start again, “So, as I was saying, this is about me getting out of here.”
“Right.” She shrugs.
“And what about you?” I pull my gaze away from Leander before he catches me ogling him.
“Me?” She scratches her nose and examines her dirty fingernails. “What about me?”
“Don’t you want to go home?”
“Home?”
“Yeah, back to the human world.”
“That’s not my home.” She slurps her soup, apparently immune to the burn.
“But it’s where you’re from. Won’t your parents want to have you back? Siblings? Friends?”
“You don’t understand.” She sighs.
“What don’t I understand?”
“Changelings can’t go back.”
“Why not?”
Gareth strides up and serves himself some stew. “Morning.”
“Morning.” I hand him a spoon.
Lenetia ignores him. “I can’t go back because someone’s taken my place.”
“What?”
“When humans are exchanged, a fae takes their place in the human world. The parents don’t know the difference.” Gareth blows on the steaming stew. “So there’s nothing to go back to. As far as Lenetia’s parents are concerned, she’s still in the human world.”
“Beth,” she says quietly.
“What?” Gareth squints at her.
“My human name was—is—Beth. I think it was short for something, but I can’t remember—”
“Elizabeth?” I guess.
She smiles, and I realize she’s probably only a little older than I am. The dirt, bedraggled clothes, and tough personality all work together to hide her youth. Knowing that she was brought here against her will and forced to work as a slave while her parents believed she was safe and sound at home makes me hurt in ways I never have before. I reach over and squeeze her hand.
“Elizabeth. I think that was it. Yes.” She hides her sorrow by downing her soup, but I saw the wetness in her eyes.
“Why do you take human children?” I ask Gare
th.
“I don’t take them.” He meets my eyes. “It’s an old tradition going back thousands of years. Sometimes, when a changeling babe becomes ill, its mother will choose to exchange it for a human. The human world is far more hospitable than many of the realms here in our world, and gives the fae child a chance at life. The fae child is given a permanent glamor to look like the human child and is sent to earth and exchanged. It’s forbidden to do an exchange past childhood, because it’s far too obvious that the switch has taken place. Children’s memories fade, and humans are more likely to accept the child when it’s young.”
“But the fae parents don’t treat the human child as their own.”
He takes a careful bite of stew. “No.”
“Definitely not,” Beth grumbles.
“They use them as slaves.” I can’t hide the indignation in my tone.
He sighs. “Yes, much of the time.”
“That’s horrible!”
“I don’t disagree.” He takes another spoonful. “And that’s why I’ve never had a changeling slave. Then again, I’ve never had children. If I had a babe that could survive in the human realm but not here, I don’t know what I’d do.” He holds up a hand. “But I’d never treat the changeling as less than my own.”
“Why can’t you just take your child to the human world without snatching someone else’s?”
“The less the humans know about the other worlds, the better.” His tone darkens. “Humans are both fragile and too clever for their own good. It’s for their safety and ours. Swapping the child keeps everything in balance, and the humans are none the wiser.”
“It’s wrong.”
“It may be wrong, but that doesn’t mean it will stop.” He stands. “We don’t allow changeling slaves in the winter realm, but we do allow the exchange if a babe begins to fade.”
I hand my half-full bowl to Lenetia, who gobbles it down. My appetite seems to have dried up with each explanation from Gareth, especially since I was exchanged and enslaved for no apparent reason. “Why was I swapped? The fae with my face didn’t seem ill, and I’m far older than the allowed exchange age.”