49
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It was easier to get to the causeway than I had imagined.
It was also easier to locate, considering the long stretch of Mount’s Bay was visible from most angles, even if I was incredibly tiny. So I dragged myself, my shoulder slouched, my body rattling with pain, all along the land that split Cluaineach and Uisge.
I tried not to look to the South, to the large protrusion of rock that was where I had met Urram and Gliocas.
To the meadow that prefaced it where a Prince had revealed his golden wings to me.
To the flowers around me that dappled aotroms throughout and reminded me of the one that was permanently around my neck, weathering and decaying the poor thing.
The texture of the land beneath me shifted slowly, no longer the flattened meadows of dirt and grass roots but rounded and bumpy as the pebbles from Mount’s Bay appeared slowly.
I hopped from one to the next, trusting my ability to navigate that way instead of trying to walk over them and likely roll an ankle.
Nearly an hour later, I saw the causeway. Where we had once loaded an army of pixies, where panthers had prowled down it and scared the shit out of several random tourists to St. Michael’s Mount. I tried not to think too much of that, either, as I made my way to the ticket-master.
The wooden outpost was tremendous in comparison to my small size, causing me to wonder how, exactly, I would be able to garner his attention at all.
Due to the sinking sun and the late hour – as well as the fact the causeway was flooded and most would take boats or wait for the tide to lower itself – there wasn’t much traffic in and out of the booth.
I stood as close to it as I could, forcing myself to look up at the man behind the counter.
At first glance, he looked like nothing more than a normal man, though quite handsome.
But the longer I looked, the more of his features started to stand out.
From his dark brown hair, near black, that had a unique tint to it that spoke of the trees and their bark, from his eyes of a similar colour.
Then there was that natural charm, that indisputable allure that simply pulsed from him like a scent.
But the last, and possibly most important, hint was when he pushed some of his shoulder-length hair from his shoulder and revealed no ears to tuck it behind.
“Hello,” I called out, unsure of how else to start a conversation.
He did not startle nor did he panic. The appearance of a faceless voice didn’t bother him much as he simply took a deep breath. “Your scent – I do not recognize it.”
“I’m a friend of Rory’s.”
He contemplated that information, the ravine between his brows thickening. “And what do you want?”
“He told me to seek you out if I ever needed help. I need help.”
His brows, big, black caterpillar-like things, lifted. “With what?”
“I’m too small,” I sighed, wondering if this would be the last time I would know my body in this way, at this size. “And I don’t want to be anymore–”
He didn’t give me time to finish my sentence.
The world shifted around me, everything shrinking and contracting as the world tightened yet expanded.
I went from standing at the wooden base of his booth to leaning over the pedestal of it, my balance tossing me left-and-right as I fought to accept my new, human-sized body.
“Easy,” he said, unbothered, before offering me an arm to brace myself on.
I mouthed a quiet thank you to him as I used his body to center myself, my stomach churning and my mind spinning as everything in me screamed that this was wrong.
That my body, which I had owned nearly three decades, was all of a sudden wrong.
“Rory’s back in Penzance,” the causeway booth-man said. “You know where that is?”
“Sure do.” I was about to turn on my heel, to leave him completely, when I sighed and forced myself to stop. “Thanks. For helping me, I mean.”
“Don’t mention it.” He shrugged before rolling his shoulders back and plastering a very false smile on his face, his eyes shifting to something over my shoulder. Frowning, I turned to see a group of humans drawing near, their eyes wide and excited as they prepared for the journey across the bay.
There was a pang of envy in me as I saw that, as I realized that I would never feel excitement or whimsy at anything beyond Saoghal, ever again.
But I would worry about that later.
For now, I needed to go back to the Rachainn. For one reason and one reason alone: I needed to know what their plans were.
Raegan wanted me to step back and away, to run – but I wouldn’t, and I couldn’t.
~
I halted outside of the pub, grumbling beneath my breath as a pedestrian nearly slammed into me.
I did not want to be here, to be back here, as if I had not just witnessed the true atrocities that Brian had promised me would not occur at his hand or his encouragement.
But my loyalty to Raegan, my need to know what the Rachainn were planning to do to him, was what made me commit to the decision.
My hand had just lifted from my side, my arm extending to open the door, when a horrible screech echoed across the sky above me and nearly blasted my eardrums.
I knew that screech, which meant that as I turned my head and saw an African Grey parrot descending from the sky in the middle of England, I wasn’t surprised.
“I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”
Oh, Urram was very angry. Considering he was the only soul left on this planet that gave a shit about me, I decided to drop the usual back-talk and simply smile as I offered my finger for him to perch on.
His wings tucked against his side as his taloned feet took to my finger, digging unnecessarily hard.
“There were some… complications.”
“Oh, I am aware. The King lays in a healers cot and won’t tell anyone what happened to him.”
“Oh?”
“Don’t play dumb. You both reek of the Rachainn. And blood. Why so much blood, Little?”
I had hoped no one would ever ask me what happened with Raegan, what happened in that dark, moldy place. Because I did not have the strength to revisit it, I did not have the heart to remember his face or his screams or the strong scent of his blood.
“It does not matter,” Urram cawed. “I have found you now.”
“You may go,” I said, my voice low and my eyes peering through my brows as I hung my head.
He let out a strangled caw and cocked his head, one dark eye blinking at me.
“You do not need to stay with me anymore, Urram,” I sighed, trying to bring strength to my shaking voice. “I free you. I free you from being my caraid. Go, and go now.”
If birds could laugh, that would be the very noise Urram suddenly burst out with. “You have learned nothing, Olivia Loughty.”
It was my turn to crane my neck slightly, my frown trying to force itself through my otherwise cracking face. “If you stay with me, you will be labelled a traitor–”
My sentence was cut short by a violent screech from the depths of his avian chest. “I do not see our bond as some feeble thing, Little. I am bound to you, by choice, for the rest of time. And I continue to choose that. I continue to choose you.”
“You won’t be able to return to Saoghal–”
“It is not you and me and them. It is only you and me, and it will remain that way regardless of what comes our way. There will never come a time where I am not beside you, caraid. Even when my wings no longer beat and my fire no longer flows, I shall forever be with you.”
I didn’t care that there was a tear in my eye, that it trailed down my cheek and Urram watched it with a stillness that only furthered my aching heart.
“You and me,” I breathed.
“For the rest of time,” he echoed.
Restoring a layer of courage to my thinly-stretched soul, I nodded at Urram and allowed him to climb back up to my shoulder. Taking a deep breath, sure that I was to regret it some day, I pushed open the pub door.
I was halfway down the cellar stairs when I heard voices – Rory and Brian, accompanied by others that I had yet to meet but carried the raw wilderness of the pixies within the tone.
I didn’t care. With Urram’s talons tight around my shoulder, I thundered down those stairs and cared very little for how loud my footsteps were.
When I levelled out on the dug-out floor, the first thing I saw was a long curtain of purple hair followed by two matching eyes that snapped up towards me.
I wasn’t sure how Rory was going to react to seeing me again, especially after impaling him with a small iron toothpick, but I should have suspected it would have been exactly as it was.
His lips peeled upwards as a large grin spread from ear-to-ear, and then Rory was charging towards me with his arms wide open.
“Olivia! Oh, you fool, I was sure you were going to be–”
He was only a second away from wrapping his arms around me in a bear-hug when I pulled my fist back and felt his nose crack beneath my punch.
With his hand thrown up over his bleeding nose, it was a task to understand his next statement. “Yeah, okay, I deserved that–”
Another punch to his gut, forcing him to curl over and convulse with a cough.
“And that,” he groaned.
Shaking out my aching hand, trying to hold a steady face as my knuckles threatened to disintegrate, I whirled my full attention to his healing body. “Whose idea was it?”
“What–”
“I know you were only following orders, Rory. I choose to believe that you were doing what you thought was right. But I do not believe you came up with that plan. I do not believe you were malicious enough to dream up such an idea.”
He was about to object once more, but his eyes shifted a hair or two. No longer looking at my face, but sliding over my shoulder to whomever stood behind me. I already knew who was behind me.
Brian could not stop the flying fist that soared his way. The whole cellar grew deathly silent as my knuckles cracked against his nose, immediately freeing a stream of hot blood down his face.
He roared out, moving his hand for the dagger on his waist, but I moved quicker. I punched again, once across his cheek as I tried my best to ignore just how much pain it was causing me. Then a second, while he was recovering from the twisting momentum of the last hit, to his groin.
I wasn’t sure what, exactly, I was going to do when he returned upright, a hand gripped tight around his dagger and murder in his eyes as he moved towards me. I was starting to consider releasing Urram on him, when Rory suddenly leapt in front of me.
“Do not touch her,” he snarled, a creature of the wild once more as his teeth bared and sharp fangs were revealed to all. “We wronged her, several times. Find respect in her desire to return the favour and leave it at that.”
Brian’s eyes pinched as he continued to snarl at me, showing no such behaviour.
“You touch a single hair on her head and I will knock yours from your shoulders,” Rory bellowed as he pulled his own blade, preparing it out in front of him as he continued his rabid noises.
Their animalistic nature had never been so apparent as they were in this moment, as Brian let out a low whimper and hung his head, sheathing his blade once more and turning away from the two of us.
“I don’t forgive you. I won’t ever forgive you, Rory,” I spat as Rory turned to face me, a fresh bruise forming beneath his eyes already as he quirked the corner of his lip up.
“I believe that,” he said. “But gods, Olivia. I am thrilled to see you alive.”
I said nothing. Made no attempt to change my face. I only stared at him, ignoring Urram who was preening himself.
I was glad for the sudden distraction that was a tremendous commotion in the direction of the stairs behind me, followed by a series of grunts, growls, and otherwise unnatural noises.
Then, from a voice I would never forget, that filled my heart with such warmth, there was a roar, “Unhand me, wretched amadán, or find yourself relieved of the appendage!”
Killian.