Chapter 33
Reid
“Would you get your hand off my face already?”
“I haven’t quite gotten your ears right,” Emlyn says. The sunlight slicing through the leaves above splits his forehead in two, just like my own damn headache.
“It hasn’t taken this long before,” I grumble.
“Well, I messed up this time. We can’t have you walking around with mismatched ears.”
“Does it matter? I keep my hood up around everyone else anyway.”
“But I still have to look at you, and it will bother me.”
I shove his hand off my face. “Fix it later. I’m tired of standing here.” The forest’s suffocating me, its massive branches weighing heavily overhead.
Emlyn’s had to reapply the glamour every day, and each time it seems to take longer and longer. It’s uncomfortable having someone else decide what I look like—I still haven’t seen it myself.
It’s the third morning since I left Ellie with Taran, and I’m still kicking myself about it.
I can’t help feeling like I let Caeo down.
As Emlyn and I clamber up and down the rocky hills, my imagination conjures images of Taran offering Ellie his hand.
When Emlyn pulls me close as we hide from potential enemies, I’m swarmed by visions of Taran doing the same to her.
And when we settle down to camp in the cold, dark wilderness, my stomach threatens to empty itself into my throat.
On the first day, Emlyn repeated platitudes about how I should stop worrying, that it wasn’t my responsibility, how Taran was smart enough to know it was a terrible idea, and so on.
But he eventually gave up, and now most of our conversations devolve into bickering.
Not that we didn’t do that before, but these arguments are different. Strained.
Outside of that, everything’s gone smoothly.
We’ve met with a few supposed allies of Taran’s, with Emlyn passing along his message.
The last one mentioned they’ll be attending the prince’s wedding in six days, which at least got my mind off Ellie for a while as I fretted over Caeo instead—he’d never willingly go through with that.
Emlyn decided we needed more information, so today we’re off to a village near the capital, hoping to uncover more.
We’ll have to hurry if we want to make it to White Spring in time.
After walking for half the day, past hills full of goats and sheep bleating like their lives depend on it, Emlyn calls for a break. We’ve abandoned the sunny meadows for a shadowy, overgrown forest that makes all the trees I’ve seen at home seem like babies. Pale, half-dead babies.
“We’re almost there.” Emlyn hands me his waterskin as I lean against a tree trunk; the water here has a sweet, refreshing flavor, like it’s infused with bliss. “There’s a market, so we can get some better food.”
“Thank Arandur. I’ve eaten more nuts and dried fruit in the last three days than in my entire life.”
Emlyn cringes. “You really need to stop idolizing that man.”
“Shit, I didn’t mean to.” I give him back the waterskin before scratching behind my head. “I’ll work on something else.”
“Try the Ancients,” Emlyn suggests, then takes a swig.
“Who are they?”
“The oldest of the trees. They’re much more worthy of your adoration.”
“Right, the Ancients,” I grumble. “Thank the Ancients.” It has a nice ring to it.
Emlyn nods in approval. “Now then—time to fix your ears.”
I sigh and pull down my hood, trying to stay relaxed as he rests his hand on my face. Several seconds pass as he stares at my left ear.
“I’m a little concerned people will see through it,” he mutters, tilting his head as he steps back to look at me. “Maybe if I got you to smell like me…”
My throat constricts. “H-how would you do that?”
Emlyn’s eyes glimmer with mischief. “How do you think?”
My mouth opens, but nothing comes out. I force a swallow. “I don’t think there’s time for that,” I say weakly.
He shrugs as he pulls his pack onto his shoulders. “Your choice. You could always try telling yourself you’re fae.”
The absurdity of the suggestion snaps me out of my discomfort. “Are you serious?”
“It couldn’t hurt.”
I let out a heavy sigh as he leads the way to the village.
I’m fae. I’m fae. I’m fae.
* * *
Emlyn leans close to my ear. “You need to relax—you’re drawing attention.”
“I’m trying to,” I mumble.
The path through the village is full of fae buying food and other wares from merchants shouting their prices, and my body jerks every time someone glances my way or bumps into me.
Emlyn rolls his eyes, then wraps his arm around my waist, pulling me close.
“What are you doing?” I snap, tugging myself free, but his grip tightens.
“If you can’t stop looking uncomfortable, then you need a reason for it. So now we’re on a terrible date.”
Did he just decide that’s true so he could say it?
Emlyn tickles my side as he weaves me through the crowd toward one of the merchant stalls—a simple wood table creaking under the weight of woven baskets of fruit, its owner shouting about his goods.
Heat rises to my ears as I smack Emlyn’s hand away. “Stop that.”
“You know you like it.” He plasters his most annoying smirk across his face. “Now what would you like to eat, flower?”
“Please don’t call me that.” I don’t need any stupid nicknames.
“How about some figs?”
“There are no figs.”
“What?” Emlyn widens his eyes, then looks at the merchant, a stout fellow with dusty black hair. “No figs today?”
The merchant looks back and forth along the path, then grunts. “I might have figs tomorrow.”
Emlyn clicks his tongue. “I can’t wait that long. I’m only passing through.”
“Let’s just get the pears,” I say, but Emlyn pushes his fingers against my mouth.
“Shush.” He doesn’t even look at me. “Is there anywhere else I might find some figs?”
The merchant rubs his thumb along his chin while I yank Emlyn’s fingers off my lips, then gives a sharp huff. “The tavern down the way serves fig wine. They get busy after supper.”
“Wonderful! Thank you very much. We’ll take some pears.” Emlyn hands the merchant some wooden disks that I assume are money, then fills my arms with fruit.
“We can go now, flower.” He pushes me along as I attempt to keep the pears from spilling out of my hands. “Let’s find an inn and see if we can turn this date around.”
“I hate you so much right now.”
“I can work with that.” He pinches my side, and my body jerks, causing a pear to spill to the ground where someone immediately kicks it.
“Hmm,” he says. “Too bad. Less for you. Now let’s go.”
He drags me through the crowd to an inn suspended in the forest canopy. The second he closes the door to our room, I throw the remaining pears at his face.
“What the fuck was that all about?”
Emlyn drops the ones he caught onto the bed, which is apparently the only piece of furniture in our tiny room. He draws the animal hide hanging beside the window across it, plunging us into shadow.
“Quiet down. You were acting suspicious. If you’re gonna draw attention to yourself, it’s better to have an obvious reason for it instead of making everyone curious. And people avoid the overly affectionate.”
I guess that makes sense. I grumble to myself as I sit on the edge of the mattress. It’s firm, as if stuffed with straw.
“Why is there only one bed?”
Emlyn peeks out the window. “Because Taran doesn’t pay me enough to afford two.”
I blink in surprise. I was expecting a comment about wanting to bed me. Could I have pushed him away one too many times?
My chest sinks. I should say something. But what?
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Emlyn, I—”
He drops the curtain as he turns to me. “I need to go back out—hear what people are saying. You’re gonna stay here.” He pauses at the door. “I’ll be back later, then we’ll get supper at the tavern.”
And then he’s gone, leaving an empty void behind.
I fall flat onto the bed and cover my stupid face with my hands. With nothing else to do, I eventually fall asleep.
I wake to Emlyn standing in the shadows next to the bed. His eyes glow with a soft, golden light as he caresses my arm.
A tender smile tugs at his lips. “Are you hungry?”
“For…?”
His laugh ignites a spark in my chest. “For food.” He pats my shoulder. “But you need to relax—at least pretend you enjoy my company. Or I’ll have no choice but to get you drunk.”
“I do enjoy your company.”
I latch onto his honey-colored eyes. They were one of the first things I noticed about him—such a beautiful shade—and now they glow as if the sun shines within them. It’d be so easy to draw him down to me. To engulf him in a fiery kiss.
But I hesitate. Why do I hesitate?
“Then come on.” Emlyn wraps his fingers around my hand and pulls me out of the room.
The inn spirals around a grove of enormous pine trees, with a precarious wooden ramp leading to the forest floor. There’s not a single straight line to be seen, and I can’t for the life of me figure out how everything’s fused together.
“How do you build without metal tools?” I ask as we circle down.
Emlyn runs his fingers along the tree trunk, still holding my hand with his other.
“Shaping. When mortals incant, they steal from the Land to create what they want. Our magic shapes what we’ve already been given.
We can easily mold wood and stone, we just have a limited supply.
This village has existed for millennia, slowly growing piece by piece. ”
The tavern isn’t far—a large building on the forest floor, with walls of massive tree trunks shaped to fill as much horizontal space as possible.
When we step inside, the rush of familiarity startles me.
It feels like walking into the Kettle Maker, despite its interior being completely different.
Its irregular shape follows the trees’ growth, leaving no corners, and fae apparently don’t waste wood on chairs, so the tables all sink low.
Most are crowded with fae, drinking and laughing between boisterous conversations, just like the people back home.