Chapter 6 Carwynn
CARWYNN
Everything in the Ferie Realm still felt new. It was such a high seeing and experiencing things I once thought were impossible. Like take right now for instance—riding in a luxury carriage pulled by an Enbarr.
Looking out the front window, I could see the horse-creature’s cute fuzzy body, and even cuter pointed ears bopping with every trot under the rising moon. Although the Enbarr was bounding, the ride was virtually smooth.
Wild.
After my control slipped in Lochlainn’s office, I pulled him into the hallway, calling him every colorful word I could think of. I didn’t stop until he looked like a child who was thoroughly reprimanded by a mother with a wooden spoon, shushing him every time he tried to speak.
“Listen, truly Carwynn, I’m so—” Lochlainn began, hands raised.
“Shhh!” My hiss cleaved his words in two.
“You promise-breaking, whiskey-piss-drinking, no good, cheap wannabe-godfather, lying, gold-humping . . .” He frowned, looking struck, but an eyebrow arched at the last bit.
“. . . shove all the lucky charms up your fucking ass, ginger leprechaun fuckwit!” I seethed the stream of curses, angrily jabbing a finger into his annoyingly hard chest.
“Hold on now.” Lochlainn’s brows pinched together at hearing the human mythological reference. “There’s no need for low blows, getting derogatory. Besides, we both have red h—”
“Shhh! Shut your mouth or I’ll break your hip, I swear to god!
” I scolded, interrupting him again with a glare that held the heat of a thousand infernos.
His face went up in surprise, a faint smile curling at his lips.
“Now turn on your fucking listening ears. Number one—I’ll be part of your piss-poor excuse of a team, so long as you grant me access to all your archives.
” I held up two fingers, assuming math might be a struggle for him.
“Two—if any of your men spread word about my ability, I will raise the most horrifying, demented souls from the grave to personally haunt them in all the worst ways.” The look I speared him said fuck-around-and-find-out.
Not that I could actually raise anyone from the grave . . . but it sounded hard hitting and added a dramatic flair.
Lochlainn leaned his chest into my finger, forcing it to transform into a splaying hand to keep him back.
“Oh, would ya now?” His face lit up, a wickedly amused grin spreading. But his features steadily twisted into suspicion. “And what exactly are you looking for in my collections?”
I dropped my hand, straightening. “Just trying to identify some old relics I’ve been doing research on.” My throat slightly cleared. “Academic purposes really.”
Lochlainn studied me for a second, either considering my conditions or calculating them. He hooked a thumb into his pants pocket, casually pressing back against the wall.
“All right then. Help me with the runner tonight, and access is all yours.” He nodded.
“Suppose I owe ya as much anyways for being a selfish arse, forcing your hand. I should’ve kept my trap shut.
” Gold eyes trailed over my face. “I’m sorry.
” It wasn’t the most emotional or convincing apology, but I had a feeling men like him didn’t dish them out too often. So I’d take it.
From the look in his eyes, I could tell he was curious about why I wanted to keep my abilities a secret, but he didn’t push it.
Of course, I was careful to omit any information pertaining to I’m the daughter of the murdered Queen.
Based on his pinky-promise track record, I would not be sharing that secret with him anytime soon.
Lochlainn sat at the head of the carriage while Finley and Keeffe were across from me. To my side, unfortunately, was Pogue.
After my semi-freak out, Lochlainn must’ve figured the more the merrier was, in fact, not a good idea.
The moonlight coated the Enbarr’s fur in a light blue hue. The stone buildings of Luckland City were behind us as we made our way through the forest. Thick green moss covered the ground, sprawling up trees. Orb lights trickled down from branches, guiding our way on the gravely path.
I was far more interested in the passing sights outside than making small talk—something that couldn’t be said for the rest of the company as they bantered among themselves.
Gossipy busybodies . . .
A gaze lingered on me, itching my skin.
“I don’t recall telling ya how beautiful you look tonight. Hope that wasn’t all for me?” Lochlainn attempted a charming smile, but it was looking more and more equivalent to a grin a clown would flash after making you a balloon dog.
I rolled my eyes.
“Good attempt at kissing my ass, but it doesn’t suit you.”
He winked, grin widening even farther.
“Ohhhh I think kissing your ass would suit me just fine. In fact, I—”
“Don’t!” I held a finger up. “Do not finish that sentence!”
I fidgeted with the tie on my coat. Other ears were listening.
He chuckled darkly, “Oh come on, love. Truce?” He made a pouty face at odds with his rugged beard. “Water under the bridge and all that?”
Love. He flung that word around so often that there wasn’t a doubt in my mind he’d never actually cracked a dictionary open to read what it meant.
Finley disregarded Lochlainn, cutting in.
“With a gift like yours, I don’t blame you for erring on the side of caution. I want ya to know I’d never say anything. And if any of the others do—I promise they’ll be dealt with personally.” A blond lock fell over his eye, lips pulling into a tight line.
“Thanks, Fin.” I offered an appreciative smile.
Keeffe grinned ear to ear, leaning in.
“I still can’t believe it! I never would have guessed ya were from Hallow Land. Not to mention—a fecking Soulsayer! Do you know how badass that is?”
“I don’t know about that.” My laugh was skeptical. “I’m still in the early stages of learning to control it. Hard to do when teachers are scarce.” I shrugged.
He whirled toward Pogue. “You’re from Hallow Land. Maybe you know a thing or two that could help her?”
Excuse me? He’s from—
I whipped my head around in disbelief.
“Wait, you’re from Hallow Land?”
Pogue sharply exhaled.
“Yes,” he said flatly.
Silence.
My eyebrows shot upwards, giving him a look that said, seriously, that’s it?
He crossed his arms, leaning back in the leather seat.
“From a small town you’ve probably never heard of.
There was nothing there for me. When things changed after the collapse of Loveland, and lands opened their portals to outsiders, I decided to start a new life.
” His eyes darted out the window. “And no, I’m not going to train her on something she should have learned as a child. ”
Ah, there it is. The asshole mask is back on! Maybe I should call it his assmask . . . or maskhole? Assmask kind of has a ring to it.
“As thoughtful as it is for Keeffe to consider that—I wasn’t asking. Besides, I know a terrible teacher when I see one.” I looked him up and down. “Hard pass.”
Pogue’s nostrils flared, side-eying me.
“Actually that’s not a bad idea.” Lochlainn pointedly turned to Pogue. “You’re a Shadowsayer. She’s a Soulsayer. They’re basically in the same family! You could help her—which in turn, helps us figure out who’s behind all this.”
Shadowsayer.
I’d heard of it, but vaguely—someone who could speak to shadows.
When I was a teen, David and Wyatt didn’t have the easiest time teaching me about the Ferie Realm.
I mostly ignored the boring histories, only wanting to know the fun stuff like: Are there Unicorns?
Leprechauns? Santa’s elves? Why are the Cherubs obsessed with chocolate, and where do they get it from?
Luckily, better listening ears came with age.
As it was explained, most people didn’t have gifts or abilities beyond their natural physical traits. Those who did were rare. The most powerful abilities were typically seen in those with royal blood, though non-royals could still possess lesser—yet still potentially lethal—gifts.
No one understood how the abilities came to be, but it was believed they were granted from the lands themselves.
Loveland’s power stemmed from love, emotion, and healing of what was broken. Poetic, I know. As a kid, anytime David told the story, I put a finger in my mouth, gagging.
Hallow Land drew from darkness—of night, of death, of souls.
Eostre Land’s came from life, fertility, and growth.
Luckland’s from fortuity and nature.
And Vinterland’s from light, magnanimity, and resilience.
In Hallow Land, there were lower gifts and higher gifts.
Lower abilities included the Soothsayers, seers with various forms of sight, such as glimpsing object memories for a short time frame.
The Shadowsayers, Soulsayers, and Beastsayers—those who could speak to shadows, souls, and beasts, coaxing them to cooperate.
And those who practiced the Craft, which were Ferie’s version of witches and warlocks.
Higher gifts were rare. Some said to be so powerful and uncommon, they existed only in legend.
These included the Soothseers, insanely powerful oracles who could see through time and space, believed to have died out.
And the Wielders—Soul Wielders, Shadow Wielders, and Beast Wielders—who could command absolute control.
The carriage started to slow, disheveling my thoughts.
I couldn’t help staring at Pogue. I’d never met a being from Hallow Land—or anyone with a similar gift to mine. It made me feel homesick in some weird way.
Any time I pictured Hallow Land as a kid, I imagined some extraordinary Halloween world made of eternal autumn, spooky cemeteries, eccentric costumes, and the ultimate trick-or-treat neighborhoods.
Obviously that bubble quickly popped once I learned about its history and barbaric line of rulers. The humans definitely got the cutesy part wrong. But maybe some of the horror films got parts of it right.
Of course, the first person I met from my homeland would be a complete jerk. Just my luck.
But I shouldn’t have been surprised. If anything, I was annoyed with myself that I didn’t see it sooner. Looking at him now, it was almost obvious in the way he dressed, the way he carried himself.
Lucklanders were all about fineries and glitzy style. Although tough, they at least had a sense of humor.
Pogue looked like a walking threat. His style was dark and deliberate, obviously meant to unsettle. Even the gold embellished suspenders felt like a lazy attempt to blend in.
His attitude alone should have been a red flag that he wasn’t from around here, along with the lack of brogue in his voice.
And yet, there was something about him. His energy pulled me in somehow.
Maybe it was a Hallow Land thing.
I grilled Lochlainn.
“Absolutely not. Like I said—hard pass.”
Don’t push it, my eyes said.
Finley’s chuckle flooded the enclosed space.
“Probably for the best. Otherwise, I’d put money on someone getting shanked within ten minutes.” He shot me a wink. “Carwynn doing the shanking, of course.”
A shoulder tensed at my side, making me wonder how Pogue survived in Luckland without a better sense of humor.
“Why, shank you very much!” I cheekily replied.
I was rewarded with Finley’s laugh. He always did appreciate my cheesy humor.
A sudden thought came to mind, spinning me back around.
“Question—how’d you get mixed up with this lot?” I asked, swirling a finger to indicate the Luckmen around us.
For a moment, I thought Pogue was going to ignore me, but then his eyes met mine in the dark.
“I own the Lost Souls Nightclub. When I heard of a new product in town that’d enhance patron experiences and bring in more revenue—I wanted in.”
Of course, he did . . .
“He handles processing and transport of our products. Though lately, he’s dipped into formulation. Developed our most recent success: Arcadia Leaf,” Lochlainn said in his best businessman-like tone.
“Bettering the world one step at a time, eh?” I said sarcastically. “Curious—does the Lord of Luckland know his streets are riddled with drugs?”
Lochlainn’s voice sharpened at the mention of the Lord.
“As long as people do Lord Faelad’s bidding and leave him the fuck alone, he’s happy to turn a blind eye.”
I’d always figured his family connection was the reason he and his men got to run rampant in the city without consequence. But it also made me wonder what kind of personal relationship he had with his uncle.
My body jerked to the left as the carriage came to an abrupt stop. I tried to brace myself, but Lochlainn’s strong grip held my shoulder to steady me before I toppled over.
“Easy does it. We’re here,” Lochlainn muttered quietly as he reached to open the door.
His grip was firm as he helped me down from the carriage.
The moment my foot hit the damp ground, I felt it. My inkling, my gut sixth sense—it surged through my system, shocking my nerves like I’d taken a fucking hit from a stun gun.
Something was terribly wrong.
That’s when the voices started. Soft mumblings that quickly escalated into a crescendo of screams.
Help us!
Ahhhhhh!
Help!
Free us! Free us! Free us! Free us!
He’s coming! He’s coming!
Trapped!
He’s coming!
It’s a trap!
Run!