Chapter 1 #2
The old woman was right: he was gorgeous, with a well-formed face, pointy little chin, and big, bright blue eyes.
His eyes darted between us, wide and questioning, a bright, uncertain smile on his lips.
“Do you speak the Common tongue?” I asked.
He tilted his head, frowning, pointed at himself and said something I could not understand.
I turned to Ilyndra. She was already reaching into her satchel for an aetherwoven ring. She handed it to me without a word, the corners of her eyes crinkling the tiniest bit.
I dismounted. The man’s eyes skimmed over my body, centering between my legs. He licked his lips.
“This will help you understand,” I said, holding out the ring.
He stepped back, raised both hands, palms out, and shook his head. The universal gesture of no, thank you—or maybe, I don’t accept magical jewelry from strangers. Which was fair.
I held the little wooden ring out again, more insistently. “It’s not dangerous, it’s aetherwoven, spelled by a powerful elf to translate languages. It will allow us to understand each other.”
The man spoke again, turned and slapped his own ass, winking. What the ever-loving fuck?
Behind me, Vaelith made a sound that she poorly disguised as a cough.
I took a breath. I’d faced down fae war-chiefs. I had survived a hundred and fifty years of the Long War. I had once endured a six-hour council session on agricultural tariffs in the Faraway Delta.
I could handle this.
I held the ring up where the man could see it. I pointed to the ring. Pointed to his ear. Pointed to his mouth, mimed understanding.
He stared at the ring, at me, at the ring again.
Behind me, Bram sighed, and I knew what he was thinking. The commander of the elite, highly trained Grey Guard, reduced to pantomime on a country road.
I tried the pantomime again, pointing at my ear, nodding as if I’d heard something. He reached out and took the ring and put it on.
“I don’t know why you keep insisting on giving me this ring, but whatever.
Sure, Lothario, I’ll take a ring. This does not mean we’re engaged, though.
I mean, we can fuck, if you like, because who would say no to all of that.
” He made a little gesture at my body. “I’ve been walking for HOURS and I have no idea where I am or how I got here.
I think I blacked out. Do you think I was drugged? ”
The words hit me like a wall, loud and forceful. The ring was still weaving a connection to his mind, and the meaning arrived in fragments, in bright shards of sense buried in a torrent of sound. I tried to cut in, but he was still going.
“And my phone is in my bag back at the club, because, I mean, no pockets!” He patted his tiny trousers. “I tried asking a cute old lady, but she sprinted to her wagon and raced off. Is this like a Renaissance fair? Because the production value is incredible but I need to—“
I gave up on waiting for him to finish and cut in. “I’m afraid I must first ask who you are.”
The man stopped. Stared.
“You — I can understand you.”
“Yes. The ring is —“
“Holy crap.” He looked at the ring on his finger, pulled it off then started talking again.
I shook my head.
“It needs to —“
He put it back on. “—hear me now? Can you hear me? What about now?” He pulled it off. Put it back on. Pulled it off, still talking all the while. “Holy crap, that’s—“ Off again, then on. “—thing I’ve ever seen. What the fuck? How does it work, is it some kind of wild new technology?”
“It needs to stay on,” I said. “For the translation to —“
He took it off again, inspecting it as he kept speaking in his strange language.
I grabbed his hand and forced the ring on. He stared down at my fingers for a long moment and shivered, and I wondered if I’d been too rough.
“It needs to stay on,” I repeated, still holding his hand. “Needs to have enough surface area in contact with your skin for the magic to work.”
He shook himself. “You have really nice hands. And forearms, has anyone mentioned your forearms to you? I mean, you’re probably well aware of them, I suppose, as they are attached to you. Wait, did you say magic?”
My patience frayed. “What is your name?”
He stared up at me. “Pippin Crane. But everyone calls me Pip. Who are you? Where am I? Have I been kidnapped? This doesn’t look like California. The road is so bumpy, and your outfits are insane, and there are HORSES, like real live horses, but…”
“I’m sorry,” I said. The aetherwoven ring translated meaning but not always context, and I was sure I’d miss something. Or many things. “You are shocked by horses?”
“Who wouldn’t be shocked by horses? I mean, it’s not like we’re in the middle ages.” He blinked, then let out a sharp, nervous laugh. “It’s entirely possible this is a really weird dream.” His eyes darted between my legs. “That definitely looks like the stuff of dreams.”
Vaelith’s cough grew more pronounced.
“I am Aeldryc the Ironstorm,” I said. “Leader of the Queen’s Grey Guard. You are on the road to River Bend, in the County of Clovermere.”
“I know Ren Faire types don’t like to break character, but like… None of that made sense.” Pip was still staring at my cock.
“I assure you, I am not a character.”
“Cool. Cool cool cool.” Pip nodded several times. He stood on his tiptoes, grabbed the tip of one of my ears, and pulled. Hard.
“Ouch. What the bloody hell?” I rubbed my ear, frowning down at him.
“Those are attached to your head. Permanently?”
“They’re my ears. What else would they be attached to?”
“They’re so pointy! Did I eat some magic mushrooms?
” He held out his hands in front of his face.
“The last time I tried those, my hands had seven fingers, but I suppose you never know what the brain will create.” He placed his palm over my face and squished it.
“Sky, if we’re in the bathroom at Club Vortex, and you’re fucking with me by pretending to be the sexiest elf since Legolas in Lord of the Rings, I need to know. ”
“I am fae, not an elf.” I glanced back at my company.
Thyren’s mouth was a tight line, but the corner of it twitched—a seismic event for a man so disciplined.
Vaelith, never one for stoicism, had given up all pretense and was openly weeping with laughter.
Ilyndra watched, her expression closer to academic curiosity.
“We’ll bring him in,” I said. “To the palace. He seems to be a lost soul from a faraway land.”
Thyren frowned. “If he’s from a faraway land, how did he get to Clovermere? There’s no sea nearby.”
“Someone sent him,” Ilyndra said. “Or something brought him.”
“Not ominous at all!” Vaelith giggled. “Ooh, this is good!”
“Me? I’m definitely not at all ominous, I mean, look at me!” He did a small, deliberate gyration of his hips, which somehow did seem ominous. “I’m a twink!”
“Is that a… magical being?” Thyren asked.
Pip beamed. “Some who’ve had me might say so.”
“I’m going to take you in for a medical assessment and an interview,” I said, pulling a small set of shackles from a loop on Bram’s saddle. “Should you choose to resist, we will have to restrain you.”
“Ooh, kinky.” Pip held out his hands. “Yes, please, Shadow Daddy.”
Vaelith had only just gotten her giggles under control, and now she was back to laughing.
“Never call me that again.” I didn’t put the cuffs on, because he was clearly not a flight risk. Instead, I yanked him by the wrist toward Bram.
“Is that horse looking at me? He’s judging me. That horse is absolutely judging me.”
“He judges everyone,” I said.
“So you want me to get on the giant magic horse who hates me?”
“He doesn’t hate you.” I wasn’t sure this was true. “He just has questions. We all do.”
I mounted first, settling into the saddle, and reached down. Pip stared at my hand as if it were something far more intimidating, his gaze flickering back to my face as his throat worked.
“Up,” I said. “Don’t make me cuff you.”
His smile turned cheeky. “Don’t threaten me with a good time.”
Pip grabbed my forearm and I lifted him and deposited him in front of me on the saddle. He made a small involuntary sound as his bare body settled into my lap. My cock twitched.
There were certain unavoidable physical realities to carrying a person in the saddle in front of you, certain reactions within one’s body.
It was a logistical difficulty caused by his lack of clothing. That was all. My iron magic stirred, waking in a way it shouldn’t have.
“Comfortable?” I asked.
“Mmm.” Pip shifted a little and settled in.
I kicked Bram into motion. He waited a judgmental beat before settling into an easy, loping canter that had Pip bouncing against me.
As we rode, Pip chattered, a constant stream of bewildered observations. “Wow, is that a real thatched roof? Like, with actual straw? It’s so cottagecore.” A moment later: “Wait, is that a windmill? I didn’t even know they still made windmills!”
The Queen had wanted a distraction. She was about to get her distraction, along with unforeseen tactical complications.
I adjusted my grip on the reins. If my arm tightened around his waist, it was only for safety, because he kept squirming. It had nothing to do with the warmth of his bare stomach against my forearm.