“What’s a… a Bean Fionn?”
“Best you do not know. Come, Wasp. Jinn is a gentle beast. I can promise he won’t harm you.”
“And what about you?”
“I can promise I might not. Do you wish to offer something more as incentive to keep you well?”
“Unfortunately, there’s no point. If I had anything of interest to you, you’d probably already have taken it,” I grumble.
“Finally, you speak sense. Now give me your hand and mount.”
Cool skin slides against mine, and I vault through the air, landing sideways in his lap. The bridle jingles a happy tune as the huntsman yanks my leg until I’m straddling the horse, and then drags my hips deeper into the cradle of his own.
His heat enveloping me, he takes up the reins and digs his thighs into horseflesh and girl flesh alike. Jinn trots forward like a show pony, making me bounce up and down.
“Balor, come!” the fae commands.
The wolfhound barks in reply, long legs bounding to keep up with the horse.
I squeak and yelp, trying not to slip off. A wild scent—oiled leather and musk overlain with the crispness of a mountain breeze—melts my brain. The obnoxious huntsman smells like a storm, and it unravels me.
This heady weakness won’t do at all.
With difficulty, I summon a frigid tone. “So why am I practically sitting in your lap? Shouldn’t I be behind you like the movies I’ve seen when a girl gets stolen away?”
“Movies? Is that a roving carnival? If you sit behind me, you’ll find yourself atop my bow. Maybe you’d prefer the discomfort. And I did not steal you. In my land, when a person finds something, it instantly becomes theirs, to do with as they will.”
“Fae like to consider themselves people, do they?”
And humans—things.
“What do you think we should call ourselves instead? Ogres or giant squids?”
“Reptiles might work.”
His muscles tense, the hard edge of his arm bracer digging into my stomach. “You are not amusing, human.”
“Maybe not to you, but I sometimes make my friends laugh.”
He snorts. “You have those? This is surprising news.”
I bite back a retort and gawk at the eerie forest we’re slowly weaving through.
Our pace has slowed, and as Jinn follows the creek’s bank, he ambles around trees, their ashen trunks and branches gnarled and twisted like they’re frozen in a dance of agony.
The light is diffused and gloomy but every now and again, bright jewel-colors peek through the gray—a rosy-red mushroom cluster here, a bright-green fern unfurling there. Damp mist curls around our legs, the hems of our clothes sodden.
In the distance, wild creatures call to each other—birds, wolves, and other unimaginable beasts—turning to unnatural quiet as we pass. The animals are afraid of the hunter.
The silvery Ithalah forest is beautiful, but solemn and sad, not a place in which I’d want to spend time alone.
Breaking the long silence, I ask, “Why is it so dismal here? I pictured a lot more flash and dazzle in Faery.”
“The Emerald Keep is different. There you’ll see such color and sparkle, you’ll wish your eyes blindfolded for respite. More so when I’m not present. Out here it’s…”
He trails off, unwilling to finish explaining.
“Out here is what?”
Dark and bitter, his voice drops low. “It’s me. Away from Talamh Cúig, from the people of the castle, there’s nothing to dilute the strength of my moods. Out here in the wilds, my blackness seeps into everything.”
“Huh. That must be depressing for you.”
The huntsman’s harsh breathing warms the top of my head, his solid chest pumping faster as the sky darkens and rumbles. He’s angry. Maybe I’d better change the subject.
“So, are you going to tell me your name?”
He sighs. “It’s Everend. And if you must use it, call me Ever. Most of the Folk do.”
“Really? Your name’s Ever? Well, if you pop an N in front of that, the name suits you perfectly. Never. That’s what I’ll call you.”
He grunts. “If you insist. Now be quiet again. You disturb my thinking.”
We’re heading west, so I point at the rays of dull light glowing through the trees. “Try brooding on something pleasant for once, then maybe we’ll see a little sunshine before the sun sets.”
“I never muse on pleasant subjects.”
“That’s a mistake. Don’t you want to know why I’m going to call you Never?”
An animal’s cry echoes in the distance, but the hunter stays silent.
“I’ll tell you anyway, because I’m sure deep down you’re dying to know.”
He grunts again.
“Never is a good name for you, because if I could help it, I’d prefer never to call you anything. I wish I’d never met you and that I was never found and stolen away by you and your scary dog, and I wish—”
“Your point is made, mortal, as stupid and vapid as it is. I am Never to you and Ever to all else. I care not. Now be quiet.”
“Are there many huntsmen in the Land of Five? Are you an official one, like in special service of the king or something?”
“I am in the service of no king. I hunt whenever I want, for whatever I desire.”
“I see. Tell me about your king and queen. What are they like? What are their names?”
A brilliant flash of lightning illuminates the forest, thunder quaking the earth a second later.
Balor barks and Jinn’s sides shiver.
“Enough talk,” he growls.
“Okay. Okay. Calm down.”
When I left work last night, I couldn’t have guessed I’d be traveling through a gray dusk, my butt bouncing against a faery who seems to have control of the weather and has just claimed me as his possession.
Does he have to hold me so close? Desperate to get space between us, I shuffle in the saddle, and Jinn jigs sideways.
“Stay still. You’re frightening the horse.”
“But I’m going to fall off!”
“As long as I hold you in place, you won’t.”
That’s hardly comforting. At any moment, he’s likely to let me tumble to my death.
“Can you not feel my arm securing you?”
I can, and I don’t like it one bit. I grimace down at the leather-covered forearm braced firmly against my stomach.
Shivering, I point out the silver ball sinking behind the treetops. “Look, the sun’s nearly gone. When do we stop riding?”
“We stop when I say it is time. Are you cold?”
“Yes. That wind… it’s icy.”
He gusts a harsh breath against my hair, snaps a hand in the air, and the breeze disappears.
“Did you just make the wind vanish by clicking your fingers?” I ask.
“Sometimes, all I need to do is think it and the winds obey.”
“How does that work? Do all your people have the same powers?” I ask, not happy about being trapped this close to someone who can command the elements at will.
Another sigh from my captor. “Still your tongue and things will go better for you.”
“But can’t you at least tell me if you’re planning to stop and sleep tonight? I’m hungry and tired and—”