by Holley Trent
“She’s not my ex,” he shouted.
“Whatever. At some point, you put your dick into her, so that implies at least a superficial connection. She’s on a petty rampage, and you’ve got a fairy queen who would probably have your head on a stake just to make an example of you. Yeah, I’m having a real good time here, baby.”
She put her hand over her heart again—not so much because it was racing, but because she felt sick. Acid worked its way up her throat, and her stomach lurched.
What have I gotten myself into?
“Dasha, I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”
She laughed and turned on her heel toward the front room. “Yeah, easy to say. Ben said that once. Look how that turned out. Look where we are now.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Being confined in a small space for weeks with a woman who’d probably smile to see his balls skewered and grilled was what Ethan imagined hell to be like. He couldn’t even open his mouth to complain. Every time he did, his mother either threw something at him or his father knocked him on the back of his head.
He couldn’t get a damned word out, good, bad, or otherwise.
The treatment was torture, but he deserved it. He shouldn’t have said those things to Dasha—shouldn’t have dredged up her ex because they were in a situation made by his ex of sorts. Apparently, Dasha held grudges the same way fairies did.
Ethan huddled in the front room near the corner by fireplace he was allowed to be in polishing his sword—and unfortunately for him not the flesh one—when his father in his hawk form flew in through the open window and shifted.
He didn’t even bother covering himself for modesty. Three weeks into their hunkering down, Dasha had learned to avert her eyes.
“Finally caught up to Ari,” Father called over his shoulder as he headed to the bedroom.
“Yeah? So she’s all right? What’s taking her so long?”
“She and Owen have their whole damned household loaded onto a cart they’re pulling along at a snail’s pace.”
“They should have just left it all.”
Father grunted. “Of course you’d think that. You’re used to traveling light.”
True.
“How close are they?” Dasha set down the notepad she’d been scribbling furiously on and pushed her chair back from the table. She knocked the wrinkles out of her borrowed dress and straightened yet another of the multitude of headscarves she kept in her bottomless purse.
“You look fine,” Ethan said. Better than fine.
The muted vertical stripes of his mother’s dress suited her complexion, and the cut of the frock was certainly flattering, even if he couldn’t see much of her skin beyond her arms, face, and neck.
She skewered him with a sour look and turned back to his father as he reentered the room.
Ethan groaned inwardly. He wanted to hold his wife, but hadn’t yet figured out which magic words to whisper to make her stop being mad at him. When fairies held grudges, the only cure was time, but Ethan had never been a patient sort. He didn’t see how anyone could expect him to be patient where his wife was concerned.
“Probably about an hour away,” Father said. “I offered to escort them, but they were in the midst of a rousing argument of a personal nature, and Ari told me to go on ahead.”
“I’m surprised you did,” Dasha said.
Father, leaning in the doorway between the rooms, grunted. “Not worth an argument with Ari. I always feel like shit at the end of them. She doesn’t even have to raise her voice to make you feel bad.”
Mother, moving slowly on her feet, squeezed past him and padded to the kitchen. She put the kettle on the stove and looked at Ethan. “You still sitting there?”
“Am I allowed to move? Can I come out of timeout now?”
She sighed. “Not up to me.”
Ethan looked at the woman his freedom was sort of up to, but she didn’t look back at him. She looked at Mother.
“How are you feeling?” Dasha asked her.
Mother sighed. “A little nauseated, but that’s normal for the tail ends of these episodes. I should be ready for a real meal in a few days, I hope. Whatever you’ve been cooking out here this week has been making me sob with envy.”
Dasha cringed. “Sorry. I’m not usually the biggest fan of game fowl, but even pigeons are tasty enough when they’re breaded and fried.”
Mother pressed her hands to her sunken belly. “Oh, that sounds lovely.”
“Yeah? Ethan Number One says deep-frying isn’t a thing here.”
“I imagine if more people sampled it, it would be,” Father said.
“I’d offer you some tea,” Mother said, “but what I’m about to steep tends to be quite bitter. A potent combination good for nausea and not much else. I’ll make you some black tea when I’m done, if you’d like.”
“Eh.” Dasha rubbed her own belly and shifted her weight. “Pour me a little of that brew of yours, too. Not feeling so great today.”
“Had too many of those greenberries while canning preserves?” Father asked.
“Could be. I should know better than to mess with all that sugar, but they’re so damned yum.” She shuddered as if the taste were flooding her tongue at that very moment.
Ethan wasn’t a fan of the fruit, but he wasn’t a fruit-eater in general when there was meat to be had.
“There’s nothing like them on our side of the veil,” she said. “They’re satiny on the tongue. No way in hell am I going to leave this place without at least a hundred cans of that stuff.”
Father chuckled. “You’ll be hauling a cart like Ari and Owen, then, with all that. You could just take some seeds. The plants are hardy enough. You could probably grow them anywhere that doesn’t get too much sun.”
“Hmm.” Dasha tapped her chin contemplatively. “I’m not much of a green thumb, but my father could probably grow them.”
“I’ll show him how. Don’t forget to gather the seeds. Who knows when we might be able to squeeze out of here? Could be sooner than later.”
She grunted, and then slumped into a chair. “I don’t know. You talked to Fergus this morning. He said he can’t do a damned thing right now. He can’t reopen Simone’s tunnel, he can’t even make any new ones of his own, and he might have to close the one that’s between here and his place soon if he thinks Rhiannon might be moving toward his part of the kingdom.”
“I’m certain Prince Heath has a plan,” Ethan said. “He’s good at getting information when he needs to, the crew is likely already working to undo whatever Rhiannon and her lackeys have done.”
Dasha didn’t look at him. She was too busy staring into the mug of tea Mother handed her.
Father stood in front of him and propped his fists onto his hips.
“Aye?” Ethan asked begrudgingly. He hadn’t felt so much like a petulant child in fifty years.
“Feel up to swimming the channel?”
Ethan sat up a little straighter. “Between here and the kingdom? I could talk myself into that grueling chore, I suppose, but to what end?”
“I’m just thinking of backup plans. Maybe the prince has something in the works, but if shit’s going to hit the fan—as you other-realm dwellers might say—I’d like to cover every contingency. I won’t have my family stuck in this bloody place when the gods have already given us our leaves. Rhiannon’s keeping us here now—not them.”
“Huh,” Dasha mused softy, twirling the end of her headscarf.
Mother pulled back the chair at the table beside Dasha and sat. “What, dear?”
“Well, call me naive, for this, but…I know the gods are forbidden from interfering with mundane matters, but if the realm is collapsing and they gave you all permission to exit freely centuries ago, could they not just give you a doorway to do so?” She sipped her tea, grimaced, and then nearly spilled the beverage all over herself when a newcomer appeared in the room in a flash of blue light. “Jeez, stop doing that!”
�
��My lady.” Father bowed low to Mielikki.
“Greetings.” Mielikki strode gracefully across the room and set a jar of seeds in front of Dasha. “For your father.”
Dasha’s cheek twitched, and in a tangle of words that would have made no sense out of context, thanked the goddess.
Mother tried to stand, but Mielikki waved a dismissive hand. “No need. You’ve been unwell.”
Ethan stood and propped his sword against the corner by the hearth.
Mielikki turned and pinned her pale gaze on him.
Oh, hell.
“I could give you a doorway,” she said to him.
Gods and goddesses were often listening, although they rarely chose to act. But she was there. Perhaps, for once, she’ll act. “But?”
She turned back to Dasha. “Would you go through alone?”
“Yes, she would,” Ethan said. “Let her go home.”
“Shh,” Mielikki whispered. “Quiet, child.”
Ethan opened his mouth to tell her what she could go do with herself and where, but he managed to dig deep and muster up some self-restraint. He might have been aggressive, but he wasn’t stupid…most of the time.
Dasha furrowed her brow and rotated the mug in her hands. “If I had to go alone, no. I don’t think so.”
“Why not?”
“Like you said, Moira’s unwell. I’m sure the guys would take care of her, but if there’s a fight, they can’t play bodyguard. I mean, neither can I. I’ve got shitty hand-eye coordination and I tend to shriek when people charge at me, but I can swing a mean broom if I have to.”
Smiling gently, Mother leaned over and squeezed Dasha’s wrist. “Don’t worry about me. I’m upright. I can sling a little magic if I have to.”
“I keep forgetting that you people aren’t normal.” Dasha turned toward the goddess. “Still, I wouldn’t bail out unless I had a good reason to. With Simone working on the other end, I have to hold onto some faith that I’ll get out of here…eventually. I mean, fear of deranged fairies aside, I’m not exactly miserable. And I’ve probably lost my job. So…”
Ethan couldn’t tell from Mielikki’s neutral expression what she thought of Dasha’s response, and she stood silently for so long staring at his mate, that he worried the inscrutable goddess was working up a curse for her. With his own sense of self-preservation tamped for the moment, he was about to walk over and give her a shake, but before he could, she turned to him and nodded.
“I could open a door,” she said, “but I cannot leave it open. I am not the one who designed this realm, nor did any of my magic contribute to its construction. Any opening I make would be a fleeting gap. A pinprick would remain viable for a day, perhaps. A larger one for a matter of hours.”
“Leading to where?”
She turned her hands over. “Wherever you’d like, but I could only make a large opening once before the realm’s own magic compensates and becomes immune to my power.”
And that was the rub. In the isolated part of the realm they were in, there were few people to gather and send out. A portal there would have been a waste of the goddess’s magic. But if they could send someone out so pass on word that a tunnel was opening, they could also communicate to King Nick that the masses were heading his way. The Gotches and Fergus could tell fairies via looking glass to get ready to move—and to fight, if Rhiannon’s guards got in the way.
“Send Dasha out,” he repeated.
“I already said no,” she said.
“You’re being—”
Mielikki silenced him again with a slash of her hand through the air. “Are you so quick to send forth your mate?”
“No! Of course not. I’d just prefer her to be safe out there instead of being here where things are uncertain. And she’d know what to tell people. She’s good at figuring that shit out.” Growling, he turned to Dasha. “Come on, sweeting. Princess Simone would go if the prince asked her to.”
“I doubt that, and I think you know better, too.”
He didn’t want to admit the truth, but he did know better. Princess Simone would probably dig in her heels and ball up her fists.
Dasha twined her fingers atop the table and looked to Father. “You could send Ari. Would Heath recognize her?”
Father nodded.
“Then have her go. I don’t think sending out the one person here who can move undetected through the realm is wise.”
Ethan growled.
Dasha gave him a long blink. “You think I’m wrong?”
“I’m concerned for your safety. Contrary to what you might think, if I had to choose between sending you to a place where capable people would keep an eye on you or for you to be with me, I’d send you away. I may be compelled to cleave to my wife, but I do try to use some sense when I can.”
Dasha sighed, but at least it wasn’t a frustrated sigh. Her breath was laced with resignation, but he didn’t think for one second that she was going to concede to him so easily. She wasn’t that kind of lady, and that was probably part of the reason she belonged to him.
“Perhaps intercept Ari and let her know the plan,” Mother said.
“I’ll go,” Father said.
Ethan shook his head. “No, I may as well do the errand. I’ll be back quickly. I’m just an unwanted accessory in the house at the moment, anyway.”
“No,” Father said. “Stay close to the house. I don’t want you out and about in case your…” He cut his gaze to Dasha and then back to Ethan. “Mistake decides to make another appearance.”
“I’ll deal with her.”
“No. Let your friend Colin handle the fishes as he see fits. Keep your hands clean on one thing.” He was already moving to the door, and Ethan knew there was no arguing with him, so he didn’t bother.
Mielikki entwined her fingers in front of her belly and, after a long moment said, “I will return at nightfall, then, to make your pinprick.”
She disappeared.
Dasha, with her gaze fixed on the striped tablecloth, let out a breath and then took a tiny sip of tea.
Ethan shifted his weight nervously. Now what?
Mother stood, and he was thankful for the distraction. “Well, if we’re going to send Ari through, perhaps we should send along some correspondence with her. I’ll get my mirror and see who I can reach.” She padded into the bedroom, leaving Ethan alone with Dasha.
She rubbed her chest over her heart and fixed her gaze on her tea.
Awkward.
Things had never been awkward before Ethan had joined her inside the realm. Outside of the realm, though, she’d had choices as to whether or not she wanted to be in his vicinity. Maybe he followed her closely and kept an eye on her when she wasn’t aware, but he hadn’t intruded so much as protected her.
She still needed his protection—in spite of any claims she might have made to the contrary—but he definitely felt like he was intruding. And in his childhood home, of all places.
Need to deescalate the tension.
He strapped on his sword and moved to the table.
She eyed him warily.
He tried not to take offense. Given the circumstances, she had every right to be hesitant. He put on a smile for her and hoped she found it soothing enough—that he looked more like a man than a feral animal at the moment. “Would you like to see the workshop? To see Mother’s loom?”
“How far is the workshop?” She looked up.
He made a waffling gesture. “Maybe a minute’s walk. You would be able to see the building from here if it weren’t enchanted. Mother had a shielding spell cast to deter theft. You might have even walked past while gathering berries.”
“The workshop?” Mother returned to the room with her glass and a book of blank paper.
“Yes. I figured I’d show it to Dasha.”
“The inside must be incredibly dusty. I haven’t been in there for seven or eight weeks. If you’re going to go, will you bring back my handloom? I think I feel up to a bit of weaving.”
�
��Of course.” He looked down at Dasha. “Coming?”
She gave a one-shouldered shrug. “Sure. Why not? Maybe the fresh air would do my nausea some good. I miss being able to throw open windows and doors without worrying about weirdoes flying in.”
He grunted. “You mean unfamiliar weirdoes.”
“Okay. I’ll give you that.”
He held out his elbow, half expecting her to refuse him. But, she took it and let him pull her to her feet.
“Whoa. Got dizzy there for a moment.” She listed a bit, but he straightened her up.
“You probably stood too fast.” To his mother, he said, “Lock the door behind us.”
“I will.”
He escorted Dasha outside, off the path, and into the woods in silence, pondering about how things had become so formal between the two of them. He missed being able to flirt and tease.
And why can’t I?
The situation was somewhat dire, but there was no reason for them to go backward in their relationship. He already knew she wanted him. He needed to pick up the reins and run with them.
Perhaps make her think only of the future.
He gave her a bump with his hip to get her attention. “Do you really think your father will be able to grow those berry bushes?”
She laughed and rubbed her side where his hip had struck. “Oh, yeah. He can grow anything. He’ll probably ask me a bunch of questions about where I got the seeds and what kind of place they grew in, though.”
“And what will you tell him?”
She let out a breath and adjusted her hold on his arm. “I…I don’t know. I’ve been giving that a lot of thought.” She glanced up at him and then back at the forest floor. “Not about seeds in particular, but about what I’m going to tell them about you.”
“Still planning on telling them about me, are you?”
Her only reply was a smirk.
“Oh, well, I see.” Perhaps he was finally being allowed out of the doghouse. “I’d like to be there when you do all that talking. Should be amusing.”
“To say the least.”