by Chloe Jacobs
Dryden was tall, taller than Greta or Siona, and probably even taller than Isaac. But he was thin and wiry like most faeries, and moved like a timber cat.
When he stopped and looked down at Siona, her face only got redder, but she squared her shoulders and didn’t move a muscle. It was obvious there was more happening between the two of them than could be seen or heard.
Finally, the faerie guard kept walking, but his shoulder brushed Siona’s very lightly as he passed. She turned and followed him with her gaze until she noticed Greta watching, then cleared her throat and ducked her head. She seemed to notice only then that she still had her blades in each hand and flipped them over with a snap of her wrists before shoving them back in the sheaths.
The faerie dude went to Leila’s side and took the lead as they continued through the woods. Not five minutes later, the glow of a campfire became visible. “You weren’t kidding about being close by,” she said.
Suddenly they were surrounded. Her palms itched and her stomach tightened in readiness. It was a survival instinct Greta had cultivated since arriving in Mylena, but she bit her tongue and forced her hand to open.
Looking at the tents, Greta was reminded of the dugout, the shelter that the boys had built for themselves deep in the heart of the goblin forest. Those tents had been built to be stripped down and packed up quickly if needed, whereas these were larger and more elaborate, the kind of accommodations one would expect of traveling dignitaries who had little to no experience with actual traveling.
A female faerie met the princess in front of one of the camp’s biggest tents with a steaming mug of something in her hands. There were a few lines fanning out from the corners of her eyes that suggested she was older than the others, but she still only looked about forty or fifty. From what Greta knew of the faerie race, the woman could be 250.
Leila took the mug with a grateful smile before turning back to Greta. “Please make yourselves comfortable. We have another guest whom I’m certain you’ll wish to meet. Danem Jessa will show you to him, and we can talk more later.”
A guest? The older faerie woman nodded to Greta but completely ignored Siona, who lagged a step behind. Maybe this was one of the faeries who’d rejected Siona because of her mixed blood.
“Excuse me, danem,” Greta called after the faerie. “But exactly who is this other guest of yours, and when did he get here?” Didn’t they realize that when you were dealing with a hunter, surprises were not appreciated?
Jessa kept going past the crackling bonfire and a group of faerie guards, all of whom seemed very interested in checking Greta out as she passed.
The faerie woman finally stopped and pulled open the flap of a much smaller tent at the outer edge of the camp. “This will be yours for the evening,” she said in a tone as brisk as her steps had been, with a tiny bow of her head. “Please don’t hesitate to let me know if you need anything. Someone will fetch you for the evening meal.”
When the woman left and no one else stepped in to stand guard, Greta took note. Was this their way of proving they meant no harm and wanted her to trust them?
Before Greta could duck through the tent flap, a hand reached out and pulled her in.
“What the—” She stumbled forward and whacked her forehead off the crossbeam holding the canvas over their heads. “Ow, damn it.”
“Greta.”
She blinked back the stars in her vision. “Wyatt?”
Behind her, the canvas folded shut over the opening, and it was dark inside the tent.
“I can’t see you,” she said, reaching up. “Did they hurt you? Are you okay?” Her fingers found his scratchy chin.
“No, I’m fine.”
Siona shifted away from the opening, brushing against the canvas and allowing a slim crack of light to come through. Thank the Great Mother. He looked intact. “What are you doing here?”
He glanced at Siona. She shrugged. Greta looked between the two of them, confused. “What’s going on?”
Siona removed her long coat and dagger belt. “I escorted Dolem Wyatt out of the goblin castle, as promised.”
“Actually, she followed me all the way back to the Brimstone Caves.” He looked at Siona with a grin. “Almost as if she expected me to get lost.”
“You did make more than a few wrong turns.”
“You only think so. Those turns were cunningly calculated to throw enemies off the scent.”
A small smile played at the corners of Siona’s mouth. “In that case, you could use a little more practice.”
“Are you saying that you’re an enemy?”
Greta raised a brow at the back-and-forth between them and wondered just how much time they’d spent together.
Greta turned to Siona. “Is that why you were late to the banquet last night?”
She nodded. “I knew it would be important to you that Dolem Wyatt reach his destination safely.”
“That still doesn’t explain how you ended up here.”
Wyatt’s expression dimmed. “The boys were gone when I arrived.”
“Gone?”
“There were signs of a struggle.”
She gripped the hilt of her sword and frowned. “Not the faeries?”
Wyatt shook his head. “No, but Siona and I came across them when we attempted to track the prints leaving the scene, and they offered to help me. She left me with them last night, and we started our search today. Unfortunately, there’s not much to go on. The snow has been melting, and any prints that were left in it are gone.”
She turned to Siona. “What do you think is really going on with these guys?” she asked.
Siona waited a long time before answering. “It is quite possible that everything the prince and princess have said is true. If that’s the case, then it would make sense that they would offer assistance to your friend.”
“Because they think that by helping me with my problem and helping Wyatt find the others, they’re going to get on my good side and I’ll put in a good word with Isaac.”
She nodded.
“I’m going out there to talk to Leila. I’ll try to see what she knows about the boys.”
Wyatt stood with her. “I’m going with you.”
She stopped and shook her head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“I don’t recall asking you if it was. Those kids are my responsibility, not yours.”
“Fine, have it your way.” She strapped on her sword, realizing that nobody had attempted to take it from her yet. “Stay behind me,” she said flatly. “If something goes wrong, I’ll—”
He cut her off and picked up a wicked-looking dagger from the furs. He strapped it to his belt. The veins in his hands popped, snaking up his thick forearm and under his rolled-up shirtsleeves. “Don’t bother. I’ve been taking care of myself for a long time now.”
Her cheeks flushed and she nodded. “Okay, let’s go.”
They weren’t mobbed as soon as they left their tent, but their movements were definitely noted. Two guards by the fire pit stood at attention. Greta made eye contact with the faerie closest to her, who happened to be the same one Siona hadn’t been able to keep her eyes off of. “We’d like an audience with the prince and princess, if you don’t mind.”
Without showing an iota of emotion, he led them back to Leila’s large tent. He pulled open the covering and stood aside. “Enter.”
Siona slid him a shy glance as she slipped by. Greta noticed the way his head dipped very slightly, as if he was smelling her hair when she walked past.
Inside this particular tent, there was lots of light. Tiny tin holders cradling small, flat candles had been strung in rows from loops stitched into the canvas ceiling, reminding her of the little paper lanterns that used to hang from the covered deck in her backyard when she was a kid. They’d been all different colors, and her mother had loved to turn them on at sunset and set the patio table for dinner outside. Dad would complain that they attracted the bugs, and when her brother, Drew, was rea
lly young, he would laugh and try to swat the flies landing on his plate, sending mashed potatoes everywhere…which had only made him laugh harder.
She swallowed the unexpected melancholy and tried to decide whether she should bow before the faerie royalty or not. If Byron had been in the tent she definitely would not have. But it was only Leila, so she gave it a clumsy go.
Leila came forward with a smile and took her hand, pulling her up straight. With a nod toward Wyatt, she said, “Didn’t I promise that we could help you find your friends?”
Wyatt crossed his arms. “Danem Greta was never lost, Princess, but it’s a good try.” His tone of voice was respectful, but reserved.
“Do you know where the others are?” Greta asked. She winced. “I mean, thank you for your hospitality, Your Highness, but I was wondering—”
Leila shook her head. “Unfortunately, we do not yet know where the young ones are. But that is exactly why you must come with us to the Glass Kingdom. Queen Minetta will know. Your visit will be beneficial on more than one level.”
“How do you know your queen will be able to tell me where a small group of relatively sneaky human children are hiding, when they could be anywhere in Mylena?”
“That is one of our queen’s gifts.”
“It appears that she has a lot of gifts. How exactly does this one work?”
Siona spoke up, her gaze never leaving the faerie princess. “Every faerie mind is connected to Queen Minetta’s mind, and through her all faeries are connected to one another.” Siona paused and crossed her arms. “Unless that connection is forcibly severed.”
If they’d been alone, Greta would have reacted to the slight thread of pain in her friend’s voice, but she knew Siona wouldn’t appreciate any show of support in front of the faeries and Wyatt, so she said nothing.
“Theoretically, the connection she shares with her people means that she can access the power of any of her people as well,” Siona said.
“Wow, that is a neat trick,” Greta said. She didn’t know whether to be impressed or completely creeped out. What else would Queen Minetta be able to do with that kind of connection? How easily could it be misused? She’d been fighting with just one source of magick for only a few weeks and it was ready to break her.
Greta met Siona’s gaze, searching for any hint of warning from her, but the look on her face was stoic and calm. “All right, I’ll go with you.” She had no choice.
Byron spoke from the doorway. “Be ready to leave with the rising of the suns.”
She turned around. Wow. Did the expression on that guy’s face ever change, or was he permanently constipated?
Greta nodded. At least this way, only she could be held responsible if things went bad. Isaac need never be involved.
They got up to return to their tent a little while later.
“Could I keep Siona with me for a few moments?” the princess asked, hands folded neatly in front of her. “I would like to…get reacquainted.”
Siona stiffened, and Greta was about to object on her behalf, but then she nodded and smiled. “Of course, Your Highness. That would be lovely.” She turned to Greta. “I will join you shortly.” Her smile looked pasted on, but her eyes asked Greta to leave it alone.
Greta shrugged, but tried to let Siona know that she would be close by if needed. “Sure. See you later.”
She and Wyatt returned to the little tent alone. Full dark had fallen, but Leila had sent along some of her little candles, and it only took a minute to get them hung from the canvas ceiling.
Greta took off her sword belt and collapsed onto the furs. “I suppose we better get some rest.”
“You’re not serious about all this, right?” Wyatt crouched down on one knee in front of her. “We’ve got to get out of here.”
“You want to leave? But I thought—”
“You’re here now,” he said. “You and I can track the boys down together. We don’t need anyone else.”
She shook her head. “No, I can’t. This is our best chance.”
“For what?” he said, pulling back. “Finding the boys, or for you and your boyfriend to suck up to some faeries?”
She gasped. “It’s our best chance for a lot of things, Wyatt. You don’t understand everything that’s at stake right now.”
“Oh, really? Then why don’t you explain it to me.”
She put her hands in the fur and curled her fingers. She wasn’t ready to talk to him about her own issues. “What do you want me to say? That this could be a mistake?” she asked. “Yes, it might be a mistake. But you don’t realize what’s been going on here. This whole place is on the verge of war. If there’s even a chance I can stop that—”
“Why would you risk yourself for a world that neither understands you nor cares if you live or die? This isn’t your fight, and nobody’s going to magically change their mind about you just because you make it your fight,” he insisted, making her blush. Was it really so obvious that she craved Mylena’s acceptance?
He leaned forward and took her hand. “Leave the Myleans to their own problems.”
“And how long will it take for two people to search all of Mylena alone? Another week? A month? Longer? Could you live with yourself if even one of those kids died because we were too stubborn to accept the help that has been graciously offered?” She extricated herself from his grasp. “And then what? Assuming they’re even still alive after that long. How do you think we’re going to rescue anyone when we don’t know who or how many we’d be up against?”
“We’ll figure it out.” His voice shook.
“Don’t you see, this is the way we figure it out,” she said gently.
He shook his head. “How can you trust any of them?”
“I don’t. Not entirely. But not everyone is out to get us. There are people in Mylena who can be trusted.”
He crossed his arms. “If you’re wrong about this—”
“I’ve been wrong about a lot of things, and if I’m wrong about this, too, then we’ll find another way.”
The tent flap fluttered, and Wyatt didn’t say anything. Siona was back. She entered and then stopped. “Do you require some privacy?” she asked delicately.
He shook his head. “No, we’re done.”
Greta sighed. “Why don’t you both get some sleep and I’ll stand watch.” She glanced up. “Siona, will you relieve me in a few hours?”
“No, let me take the first watch,” Siona said. “With the banquet and everything else that’s happened, I have a feeling you need more rest than I do.”
“Thanks.” Greta didn’t bother to argue. It was true. She was so tired her eyelids started drooping the minute she spread her coat down over the cushy blankets and collapsed on top of them.
Chapter Seven
When she closed her eyes and let out a deep breath, the dream was there almost before she was even fully asleep. It rolled into her head like a movie reel starting to spin.
She hadn’t even opened her eyes, but she knew Isaac had taken her back to the secluded glade in the forest where they’d had their first kiss. That kiss had been part of another dream, but was still so real she remembered every moment of it. In fact, she remembered all of the dreams where he visited, because in a way they were real. Real enough to be experienced by both of them, at least.
Her heart hammered with anticipation. She desperately wanted to see him, but that might not be such a good idea now that Wyatt had shown up.
The link between them clicked into place as the dream coalesced. She was sitting, her back propped up against something wide and firm that took deep breaths and smelled rich and earthy, like the forest itself.
Strong hands turned her around to face him. She set her teeth and ducked her head, resisting looking up, resisting the moment when they would argue.
“Not yet,” she whispered, grabbing fistfuls of his soft shirt in her hands and ducking her forehead against the warm wall of his chest. “Let me pretend I can’t feel you bristling for a fig
ht. Just for a minute. Okay?”
“Greta.” She could hear the frown in his voice, but he dragged his hands up her arms. “Why—”
“Shh.” She shook her head and breathed deep, amazed that there could be so much reality packaged up in a dream. “Please, Isaac. I just want…”
“What wishes do you make of me now?” His voice was a low murmur that teased the wispy strands at her temple until she felt the hesitant press of his lips. “I’ll grant every one.”
She lifted her head finally and looked into his face. The forbidding goblin king who’d once contemplated her death because she was a hated human was long gone. In his place was the boy she couldn’t resist.
She knew his duties as the goblin king would ultimately change him. It had already started. But if she was to be the goblin queen, too, how would it change her? Could they weather those changes together, and come out stronger for them?
“No more wishes,” she said, curling her hand around his neck to play with the short ends of his hair, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth as she contemplated how to get him to kiss her without having to ask.
His gaze fell to her mouth and stayed there. With the softest touch he could turn her to mush. She held her breath. Give her a sword and she knew what to do with it, show her a track in the snow and she could hunt down whatever had left it. But this emotion crap always threw her for a loop.
When Isaac’s mouth covered hers, she gasped. Each time between them was different, hitting her from another direction.
Her lips felt tingly and swollen when she finally turned her head to catch her breath, but then she looked back at him and was breathless all over again. Silky black hair curled at the nape of his neck, but she didn’t reach out and touch it. His amethyst eyes were mesmerizing pools deep enough to drown in, but she didn’t let herself.
His expression darkened.