Page 23

It’s going to be one of those overcast evenings. I consider it a perk.

Lark and I wait at The Lost Bridges. She sits on the planks of an upper suspension, with her legs filed between the rungs and her feet dangling over the valley. She’s watching a butterfly bounce across the sky, its wings flashing like foil.

I crouch on the woven rim of a parallel rope bridge, grasp one of the railings, and lean over the void. My eyes scan every garland of wind, every swaying overpass and creaking extension.

Spanning multiple levels over The Solitary Forest, these bridges have no structure to their arrangement and no concrete direction, though it may seem otherwise. Traverse any set of planks, yet travelers will never reach the opposite side. Rather, they’ll only end up on a different gangplank, at a different elevation. That’s the artifice of this individual maze.

Few souls know how to master it, apart from myself, Lark, and the fauna. Otherwise, most mountain Faeries can’t make sense of it, to say nothing of the ones in the woodland and river.

That explains the scowl Elixir wears when he manifests several paces from me, swaths of onyx hair whirling around his scowl. “Curse you,” he mutters through gritted teeth.

I can’t help my smirk, so I don’t bother trying.

Instead of pushing me off the edge—we leave those manic antics to Puck, who’s done it to me in the past when I wasn’t looking, just to see how long it took for my wings to sprout—Elixir continues to fester in silence. Unlike our impish brother, relying on gravity wouldn’t satisfy the river ruler. When ticked off, he would rather use his bare hands to crush someone’s skeleton than let a measly tumble off a precipice do all the work.

Hopping off the rope ledge, I retract my winds and lean against the frame while crossing my arms. A shag of hair flops over my brows as I regard my surly sibling. Mer scales glitter from the ramps of his burnished cheeks, a long robe hangs like smoke off his shoulders, and dark leggings adhere to his limbs.

I imagine this is the highest he’s ever stood and the driest environment his legs have ever endured. I wonder if his shifter instincts get antsy this far from the water, as my aerial nature does when confined so far underground in his realm.

“Ididsend you instructions,” I defend. “How difficult could they have been?”

My brother’s growl only intensifies, but the sound of Lark chirping her delight cuts us off. We swerve toward the commotion. Elixir listens, and I watch, as my mate leaps to her feet, then dashes across the bridge toward her sisters.

Cove and Juniper rush in her direction. The wind blends locks of teal, green, and white together as they smash into a hug. It doesn’t matter that they saw one another less than two days ago. The trio routinely greets one another this way, as if they’ve been parted for months.

It could be the residual effect of what my brothers and I did to them, back when they were our pawns and playthings. Now guilt pricks me, as it always does when these females occupy the same space.

Cove’s teal eyes sparkle as she brushes her fingers through Lark’s windswept tresses, a gesture so very human, so otherworldly to a Fae. And although Juniper’s green eyes brim with affection, her fondness is of the attentive and diligent sort. She steps back to take Lark’s measure, checking whether Lark’s appropriately dressed for the elements and sufficiently armed with her whip.

A spear is anchored at Cove’s hip, the weapon’s sharpness a dire contrast to her flowing, shell-white dress. Juniper wears an ankle-length vest over a shirt and pants that cinch just above her knee boots. Her ponytail swats about as she hitches her crossbow over one shoulder.

Lark bumps the pair with her ample hips. “About time, missies.”

“It’s breathtaking up here,” Cove says.

“Literally,” Juniper adds while surveying the horizon of rowan trees and torchlit summits.

As Lark starts pointing out vistas to her mesmerized sisters, Elixir’s profile softens, and I feel a grin tugging the corner of my lips. That is, until he remembers he’s pissed and rounds on me.

“Explain yourself,” he demands.

To the point, indeed. However, one other brother is less subtle.

“What the fuck are we doing up here?” Puck interrupts while moseying across the planks toward us, his red hair blazing like one of the bluff torches.

Halting a foot away, he slouches one shoulder against the railing, his chin cutting a path from Elixir to me. They stare my way as if I’m the epitome of a prick for summoning them to these heights.

For all intents and purposes, Lark and I chose a location remote from The Fauna Tower. It had to be a safe distance from our most vulnerable animals, should we be followed, as well as someplace few Faeries would know how to ascend.

The bridge maze had been Lark’s excellent suggestion. None would be able to solve its layout, which made it ideal for concealment plus evasion.

I’d sent detailed instructions on how to manifest here, though it had required a cache of energy. Based on Elixir and Puck’s labored outtakes, they’ve used up precious reserves of magic.

By contrast, Cove and Juniper had had it easier coasting on Tímien’s back. My father must have parceled them off and vanished quickly, intent on watching the sky with his brethren.

My mouth twitches. “Too much of a draft for your antlers to handle?”

Puck’s eyes narrow. “Leave my rack of out this, asshole.”