Still struggling to stay awake, I mumbled, “I stayed up last night. The horses were restless.”
His mouth gaped open. “Ah, so she was about the woods.”
“The Queen?” I scoffed.
“The very one.”
“Why would a queen walk the forest at night?” I asked skeptically.
“Because she’s fae and nature’s what feeds them.”
He rambled on and on about the faeries. How he lost his wife to one who landed on her chest and caused her lungs to stop working. How his brother’s child was stolen by them when the river swelled.
I didn’t have the heart to tell him that those things were natural. They just happened. People got sick. Children wandered too close to water sometimes, and while they were tragic, the fae had nothing to do with it. But maybe it was easier to blame something you couldn’t see rather than admit that life was that unpredictable and heartbreaking sometimes.
“You don’t believe me,” he accused, flicking the reins. The wagon rumbled over the land as we went along.
I had to think hard about what to say. “It’s not that I don’t believe you, Harper, but you’ve told me story after story about the fae since we left Grithim. How do you know they’re real? Have you ever seen one?” I asked.
The network of wrinkles across his forehead and beneath his eyes deepened. “I have.”
Surprised by his admission, I pressed, “Have you seen the Queen?”
He shook his head. “No, if I’d seen her, I wouldn’t be sitting here. What I saw was more of a creature—had legs that bent like a spider, but its body looked like a man’s from the waist up. He had six eyes, and every one of them was black as night.” Harper took a long draw from his water skin. “Scariest thing I’ve ever seen in my life.”
“Are you sure you weren’t drunk?” I teased, raising my brows.
“I’m damn sure!” he answered curtly. “Just like I know not to say the Queen’s true name. It calls her to ya, ya know. Just like that,” he added, snapping his finger. “Doesn’t matter if we were in her forest or not; if I were to say her name and she’d appear, that’d be the end of us.”
“Nah,” I responded lazily, relaxing my back against the wagon’s side. “I’m a fast runner. I’ll trip you and let her eat you while I make my getaway.”
He chuckled. “I forgot what it was like to be young and arrogant.”
“What is her name, anyway?”
His cocked his brow and snapped the reins again. “You’ll never hear it cross these lips. I’m old and wise now, ya see.”
“Will we reach Brookhaven tomorrow?” I asked, changing the subject.
“Tomorrow, around mid-morning. I’ll give you the short tour as we drive through town.”
I chuckled. “I thought we knew each other well enough that you’d at least give me the long tour.”
“Brookhaven’s tiny. There is no long tour.”
CHAPTER TWO
ARABELLA
Oryn took his time inside. Well into his second cup, I watched from the single tiny window that faced the alley, which offered a view of the side of a taller wooden building so old, I was afraid to lean against it. I could see his blurry shape through the warbled, yellowed panes of glass.
A wench strolled by and filled my brother’s tankard, bringing him a loaf of steaming, hot bread bigger than his palm. He tore it apart with his hands and tore into the soft flesh. My stomach tightened, a pang pushing through my middle. Wincing, I pushed those feelings away and straightened my back. It only took a second for my stomach to stop chewing itself.
A young man ran into the alley and stopped just inside the shadows cast by the building next to the tavern. He planted his hands on his knees and panted, catching his breath. He was... beautiful. There was no other way to put it. Square jaw covered with a couple days of scruff, full lips, dark hair that was a little too long and hung into his eyes. He smelled good… of the dark earth that clung to his fingernails, the soles of his boots, and the hems of his pant legs.
He stood up and pressed his back against the wall before opening his eyes. In the shadows, they looked as dark as his hair, like they ate up all the light in the world.
My throat became dry.
His lips parted as he pushed off the wall, wincing. “Sorry to bother you,” he apologized.
“You didn’t,” I croaked, clearing my throat and repeating the words again, stronger.
“Good. You haven’t seen a fellow run through here in a purple coat with tails along the back, have you? I spotted him in the crowd, but haven’t been able to catch him. There are too many people in the streets.”
“I haven’t seen anyone wearing a coat at all.” A trickle of sweat slipped down my chest as I watched Oryn being served yet another pint. Damn him. He looked up and waved across the room, and then a man with pale white skin and hair slid into the seat across from him. He wore a purple coat that looked far too thick and fine to be worn in the summer. One of the coat tails laid on the bench beside him.
“Is that the man you’re looking for?” I asked, pointing in the window.
The young man joined me, stooping to get a clear view through the warped, hazy glass. “I think so, yeah. I haven’t talked to him yet, but that’s the coat.”
“He’s with my brother.”
“Why is your brother here?” he asked.
“Getting supplies,” I replied, my hot breath making a circle of fog on the glass. “Who’s the man in the purple coat?”
“I’ve been walking around for almost a week looking for work. A man gave me a job cleaning his stalls yesterday, but he said if I wanted something permanent, to look for a man in town today wearing a bright purple coat with tails. And that fellow,” he added, pointing, “is the only man I’ve seen wearing one.”
Everyone knew never to trust the rich, but that wasn’t the only thing off with the man in the purple coat. Who wore thick coats in summer unless they had something to hide? The man didn’t have pointed ears, but I’d bet the other half of Oryn’s bread roll that he was fae…
A rumbling growl tore across my stomach, loud enough that the young man heard it and looked down at my belly. I fixed my eyes back on Oryn and the strange man slid something across the table to him, hiding whatever it was with his hand.
“Are you hungry?” the young man asked.
He was close enough that I could sniff him discreetly. Rich soil. “You have a strange accent,” I proclaimed, unable to keep from staring at him and unabashedly watching his lips for the way they formed the words he would answer me with.