Page 9 of Anwen of Primewood (The Eldentimber #2)

I turn around and glare at him again. “Coal isn’t a monster. He’s a cat.”

“You’ve named it,” Galinor says, his voice deadpan.

I take his chin in my hand, lowering it so he meets my eyes. “It will be fine.”

“You can’t keep it.” Galinor’s gaze softens, but only a little. “He’s not a fox or a skunk or whatever other creatures you’ve adopted.”

“You just said ‘he’ instead of ‘it’!” I grin at the progress, small as it is.

Galinor rolls his eyes. “Can I please watch the trail now? Unless you think you can charm the horse into finding his own way back?”

I release his chin and settle against his chest. Danver stretches and then leaps from the horse. He freezes when he sees Coal. The cat watches him with alert, green eyes.

“Coal, no.”

The glasseln’s gaze flicks to me, and when he looks back at Danver, he seems only curious. Danver, however, is terrified. Suddenly the fox lunges into the forest, disappearing from sight.

“Danver!” I yell.

It’s almost night. If he runs far, he will be lost. I try to jump off after him, but Galinor grabs my waist and holds me tight.

“It will be faster and safer on the horses,” he says.

We go after Danver, but it isn’t easy to take the same path as a fox. Irving crashes through the brush behind us. I glance back to see if Coal still follows, but he’s gone. I bite my lip. It’s probably better this way.

I’m not sure how far we run from our trail, but it seems as if it’s been ages. No matter how many times I whistle for him, Danver doesn’t stop. Once again, I see the flash of white fox tail, but this time, that’s not all I see.

There are lights ahead.

Galinor slows the horse. “Do you see those?”

“Fairies,” I breathe.

I can barely believe we’ve found them.

“How do we approach?” Irving asks Galinor.

Galinor shakes his head. “I don’t know. We found them before by chance.”

We watch the lights twinkle through the trees. They appear to be in a clearing. They flit back and forth at an unimaginable speed, leaving trails of sparkling light in their wake. Out of the sky, a black winged-form descends, landing in the middle of the clearing.

“Look,” I whisper. “It’s Coal.”

The glasseln stretches out on the soft meadow grass. He seems completely at ease. Galinor urges his horse forward. As we near, I see Danver is amongst the fairies as well. We pause near the edge of the trees, none of us sure how to announce our presence.

A bright circle of light zooms toward us, solving our problem. The fairy is a tiny woman, perfectly human, but miniature. Her wings move so quickly, they are but a blur.

I’ve longed for this moment, but now that it’s here, I can’t find words .

“Welcome.” The fairy motions us forward. “Please, come.”

We dismount. Feeling suddenly shy, I follow behind Galinor. He notices my hesitation and offers me his hand. I take it, feeling a little better once his fingers wrap around mine.

Now that we’re near, I see the fairies have taken up residence in a new eldentimber tree. This one is younger than the last, its green leaves only edged in gold. The fairies float around us, and I can only make out a glimpse of them if they fly close.

A different fairy drifts from the tree and hovers in front of Galinor. “We remember you.” He doesn’t sound as welcoming as the first. “Why have you returned?”

Galinor’s hand tightens around mine. “We have come seeking an item.”

Around us, the white lights burst into laughter. This is probably not a good way to start.

“And what item is it this time, prince?”

Galinor squeezes my hand. It’s my turn to speak.

Wondering what the proper way to address a fairy is, I say, “Sir?” I let go of Galinor’s hand and curtsy. “Thank you for your hospitality.”

The fairy raises his tiny eyebrows and gives Galinor a pointed smirk before he looks back to me. “You are most welcome, fair one. What brings you to our glen?”

Galinor shoots me a look of disbelief, but he keeps quiet.

“Many years ago, my father was given a gift by your kind. I have…” I try to clear the lump in my throat.

How do I tell them I was careless enough to lose it ?

I say to the ground, “I was foolish, and I have given it away.”

The fairy flies close to my face. “Tell me what you have lost.”

“A changeling stone.”

Around me, the lights gasp.

The fairy in front of me remains expressionless. “I will speak with my king for you.”

He flies away, and the fairies around us are silent.

Soon a bright, golden light descends from the tree.

It floats near my face, and the fairy studies me before he speaks.

His hair is dark, and he has strong features.

Though he looks as young as Galinor or Irving, with fairies, I’ve heard it’s hard to tell.

“I am King Brugpondam,” the fairy says. “We have much to discuss. Dine with us? Your animals will be well tended.”

I glance at Galinor and Irving, but they only shrug. I nod to the king.

“Do not be alarmed.”

Before I can respond, I begin to shrink toward the ground.

I yelp in surprise and look at Irving and Galinor.

They, too, rapidly become smaller. Galinor reaches for me and pulls me to him, wrapping his arms around my back.

The motion makes me feel nauseous, and I clench my eyes shut.

Even after the shrinking has stopped, I huddle next to Galinor.

There’s a tap on my shoulder. Hesitant, I look up. The king is now our size—or rather, we are his size. I exhale sharply. Unnerved, I look back at Galinor.

“I think it’s all right,” he whispers .

I nod and step away.

Brugpondam offers his arm to me. “What is your name?”

Galinor frowns at the fairy, but next to him, Irving motions me on with a jerk of his head.

Hesitant, I take the king’s arm. “I’m Lady Anwen of Primewood.”

He pulls me close to his side and gives me a questioning look. “You don’t have a knife on you, do you?” His words tickle my ear.

He’s very handsome. It’s a little distracting.

I shake my head, and he grins. “The last time your friend visited us, I almost lost my life.” He nods toward Galinor.

I’m not sure how to respond.

“You seem much more reasonable.” The king’s eyes twinkle at my bewilderment. “Now, come with me.”

I squeak as he wraps his arms around my waist and flies me into the tree. Behind me, Galinor and Irving both protest as they too are lifted off their feet.

In the center of the tree, thin limbs have grown together to form a deck. Hundreds of fairies sit at wooden tables. In front of them are bowls filled to the brim with all sorts of unnamable dishes.

“You will sit with me.” The king sets me on my feet. He takes my hand again and leads me to an elevated table.

The tables are lined with silk-spun tablecloths, and atop them, hundreds of candles burn.

The king pulls out my chair, and I sit. Irving and Galinor are led to their seats across from us.

A brunette fairy woman, resplendent in a yellow gossamer gown, pours the men their drinks.

She gives Irving a coy smile, but it’s Galinor she lingers over.

She murmurs questions and flatteries. I look away when she strokes his arm.

King Brugpondam takes the delicate glass pitcher from the fairy woman next to us and fills my drink himself. He watches me with dark, intent eyes. The candlelight glimmers on the gold circlet atop his head, making him look even more ethereal than he already is.

I’m amazed, however, at how human they all look—if a person can get past their wings and faint shimmering glow.

The king holds the goblet up. “Have you ever tasted fairy cider?”

“No, Your Majesty.”

“You must call me Brug.” His mouth tips in a crooked smile, and he raises the goblet to my lips. “Here, try it.”

I flush, uncomfortable, but I obligingly take a sip.

Brug smiles, sets the goblet down, and steeples his fingers under his chin. “Now, Anwen, who in your family is cursed?”