Page 13

May

My head pounds, lingering flashes of too-bright lightning flickering across my vision like afterimages. Is this what a migraine’s like? It sucks. And it’s not the only thing.

“Your goddess sucks,” I mutter.

“I’m assuming that’s a pejorative of some kind?” Aldronn keeps stroking his fingers through my hair, and I never want him to stop. “I have to agree.”

“What did she say?” Starfall asks, leaning close to nuzzle my forehead, her touch amazingly gentle.

“She didn’t say anything—she fucking yelled.” I wag a finger and adopt a commanding, strident voice: “‘You dare to defy me! You go the wrong way!’” My hand falls back to my lap. “I questioned why I should help her after she lied to me, and her voice got even louder, ringing through my entire body until my bones vibrated.” I rub at my arms and snuggle closer to Aldronn.

“You fell quiet.” Aldronn’s worried gaze searches my face. “Then you started screaming.”

“When I couldn’t talk anymore, I switched to telepathy. I tried to explain that we needed to go south to meet the dragons and the others who could help, but she wouldn’t listen and yelled louder and louder. She kept repeating, ‘Find me! Free me! Find me! Free me!’ The pain didn’t let up until we turned around and went back in the direction she wanted.”

“And then she disappeared,” Starfall says.

“Yeah, but not before bellowing one last world-shattering, ‘FIND ME! FREE ME!’” Pain spears my temple, and I wince. Yelling right now is a colossally bad idea.

“We’ve always known we have a capricious goddess,” Aldronn says. “As apt to drop sky gifts that help as those that harm, but I’ve never heard of her directly hurting someone before.”

“I haven’t either,” Starfall says.

“Lucky me,” I mutter.

“There’s only one answer to our problem.” His voice rings with command. “Starfall, you must go and bring Naomi here. Once she’s familiar with the spot, she can teleport the rest.”

“Yes,” the unicorn says.

“I’m going to set you down now,” Aldronn says to me. “Is that all right?”

My fingers fist in his shirt for a second before I can make them release their grip. I haven’t been comforted like this since I was little—I hadn’t realized how greedy I was for it. But I make myself whisper, “Yes.”

Moving so gently it makes my heart pinch, he lays me down on the softest bed of moss he can find. Then he stands and whirls, stripping the packs from Starfall with quick proficiency. When done, he sets a hand on her neck. “Run quickly, my friend.”

“As if I’m ever anything else.” She snorts. “I’ll be especially quick without your great weight upon my back.” Even though her words are grumpy, she gives him a nuzzle full of affection before wheeling around and racing for the trees.

“How long will it take?” I ask.

“She’ll be faster with nothing but the saddle, yet it will still be days, and she’ll have to carry Naomi back.” His eyes narrow as he gazes at the spot where Starfall disappeared, lost in thought. “Humans, however, are far lighter than orcs, so I imagine it will be three or four days until they return.”

“Well, if we have to camp somewhere, I’m glad it’s here.” I roll my head until the pouring cascade of water comes into view. “I love waterfalls.”

Aldronn grunts and gets to work making camp. Instead of putting the tent in the glen where it stood last night, he chooses a spot just inside the trees. The tent flaps still open onto the clearing, but the sides and back of the tent are hidden. In no time, he has a fire burning again and brings me a mug of peppermint tea.

He helps me sit up, and I lean back against him as I take my first sip of the minty beverage. The herb goes to work quickly, settling my stomach and chasing away the worst of the lingering headache. I let out a happy sigh. “Thank you. The tea is perfect. Why aren’t you having any?”

“You need it more than I do.”

“Just pour another cup.”

He remains silent.

Then it hits me. “Oh, shit!” I sit upright. “I dropped the other cup! I’m sorry!”

“Don’t worry about the damned cup, May,” he growls, pulling me back to him and brushing his fingers through my hair. “The cup means nothing, not compared to you.”

“I’d say I’ll go back and get it, but…” I wave toward the south, the direction the goddess won’t let me go in.

“You’ll do no such thing.” His fingers are hot on my cheek as he turns my head until I look at him. “I order you to stay in this clearing and do nothing to incur the goddess’s wrath.”

I open my mouth, ready to remind him he’s not the boss of me. But underneath his gruff arrogance lies real concern. So I nod and take a sip of tea—the tea he made just for me—and settle back into his side.

We spend the rest of the day like this, sitting quietly or talking. He asks me about Earth and my travels, so I tell him the fun stories, like wearing a “sexy Bavarian bar girl” outfit while working my way through Oktoberfest in Munich; the camel that spit at everyone who got near it in Egypt; and the way I kept getting the worth of coins mixed up in England until a guy running a fish and chips shop told me off royally. “If you think my colloquialisms are a lot, you should have heard him. I was a ‘gormless git’ and ‘daft as a brush.’ He used the most inventive phrases I’ve ever heard. I don’t know what half of them mean, but I know that guy swore like a champ.”

I take little naps while Aldronn hunts and forages. Lunch is tiny tart apples and hazelnuts bursting with flavor. Aldronn’s so strong he can crack the thick shells with his hands. As evening falls, he makes another delicious dinner, this time of squirrel and more of the pan-fried potatoes.

I crunch into a crispy home fry, giving a happy moan. There’s nothing that can’t be made better with potatoes, salt, and a shit ton of grease.

Aldronn asks for one more story, so I tell him about the awe I felt when I finally visited the Great Wall of China. “You see pictures. You read the statistics that it’s over thirteen-thousand miles long and considered one of the most impressive architectural achievements in all of history,” I say. “None of that compares to seeing it in person, to standing at on top of only a small piece of it and staring at where it disappears on the horizon, knowing people made it centuries ago without the use of technology. When you see it like that, it becomes not just a thing but a story about people and war and fear. But it’s also a story of a shared sense of purpose, of cooperation.” I shake my head. “Sorry, that wasn’t one of my funny stories.”

“I’m glad you told it to me. I think your ability to look past the surface of the wall and see both the positive and negative aspects of its history is a good trait for a leader,” he says. “In fact, I admire you for all your travels. I grew up hearing stories of the other Faerie realms, which my ancestors used to visit at will. As much as I love Alarria, I’ve always wanted to see other places.”

“That’s funny,” I say. “I grew up with my mom telling me stories of Faerie. No matter where I went on Earth, I never felt like I found my place. I think I always wanted to be here.”

His eyes snap with intensity, his body tensing. “Does Alarria feel like home to you?”

“Not yet,” I admit. When he scowls, I add, “I mean, how could it? I haven’t seen one of your villages or how you really live yet. But the magic…” I let out a sigh. “The magic feels right.”

Though I can’t feel my magic right now. Every time I reach for it, a flash of pain burns along my nerves.

When I tell him about it, he frowns and nods. “You’ve used too much power in a short span of time.”

“I didn’t use my telepathy on purpose,” I mutter. “The goddess didn’t give me a lot of choice.”

“When Naomi gets here, she can bring you some of the special red crystals that can help with that,” he says. “You’ll need a couple of days to recover. Try not to use your powers until then.”

Then he scowls, harder than ever.

“What is it?” I reach out and touch his forearm.

“I just realized my premonition magic gave me no warning of the goddess’s attack.” He scrubs a hand over his head. “It doesn’t always give me much of a warning, but it’s never failed me completely before.”

“Maybe because she’s, you know, a goddess ?”

“Perhaps.” His lips twist, and he doesn’t sound convinced.

It makes me want to ask about something I’ve been worrying about. “So… your magic…” My finger traces little designs on my thigh. “Except for this instance, it always works like you want?”

“Always,” he says. “Why do you ask?”

“Because mine doesn’t,” I let out in a rush. “Do what I want, I mean. It comes when I don’t want it and refuses to work when I do. It’s a fucking mess.” Just like me. I can’t bring myself to admit that last part out loud.

“You’re being unrealistic,” he says gruffly. “You just got your magic. I grew up with mine. It’s always been part of me for as long as I can remember. You can’t compare thirty-six years of experience to a handful of days.”

My mouth falls open as shock ripples through me. I’m so used to everyone always assuming I’ve messed up that I’ve started preemptively declaring myself a failure.

But he’s got a point. If anyone else I knew got magic, I’d tell them they deserved time to learn how to use it.

So why not offer myself that same grace?

“Thank you.” I grin at him. “You’re right.”

“I feel as if I should write that down.” He pretends his palm is a piece of paper and mimes writing on it. “On this historic occasion, let it be recorded that May declared Aldronn correct about something.”

Leaning over, I pretend to add an extra line. “But only about this one thing.” I laugh at his mock scowl until it turns into a grin, his lips curling with amusement.

Firelight plays over his features, which are always handsome, but when you add in that smile… Whew. He becomes freaking irresistible.

And he’s thirty-six! I knew he was older—he’s got that sexy self-assurance some guys get—but I wasn’t sure by how much. God, the experience he must have… No wonder he ate me out so well in my dream.

Aldronn catches me staring, and his smirk becomes even more wicked and knowing.

My thighs clench, and I sway toward him…

“Pizza!” a high voice yells.

I bolt upright. “What the hell?”

Glowing blue dots stream into the clearing, growing in size as they get closer.

“Oh. My. God.” I gape as the tiny winged people circle our heads, reminding me of the stories Mom used to tell. “Are those pixies?”

“Yes,” Aldronn says, sounding resigned.

Everything about them is light blue, from their skin to their birch-leaf clothes to their wings, which I can now see resemble the solid colors found on moths more than the patterns that usually decorate butterflies. They’re about the size of my hand with my fingers spread wide, and they’re freaking adorable!

“Pizza!” one of the tiny men calls out in a high-pitched voice. “Are you the one called Pizza?”

“Uh.” I widen my eyes at Aldronn in a “what the hell” look.

“She isn’t Pizza. That’s a different human witch.” He glances at me. “Olivia, the first witch brought to Alarria, can conjure food. She lives in Moon Blade Village.”

A chorus of disappointed noises fills the air.

I hold up my plate. “I don’t have pizza, but I have home fries!”

“Are those a type of pizza?” The pixie flies closer, inspecting the potatoy goodness. Then he scowls. “It’s not shaped right! It can’t be pizza!”

Aldronn leans over and whispers in my ear. “Olivia makes various types of pizza-shaped human food that has other names and calls them pizza to get the pixies to eat them.”

I take my fork and mash the bites of potato until it forms a flat potato pancake, then lift the plate again. “There. Now it’s potato pizza.”

“Pizza!” The fluttering mass of pixies swarm my plate, tiny hands shoving chunks of potato into small mouths that hinge open wider than expected to show off an impressive amount of teeth. It’s a little creepy on something that’s otherwise so cute, but it only makes me like them more.

In less than a minute, every bit of food is gone.

“Ohhh,” the lead pixie groans, rubbing his slightly distended tummy. “Pizza is as tasty as all the stories say.”

“I’m glad you like it.” I grin and hold up a hand. “I’m May.”

“Pixies do not give out their names willy-nilly.” He lights on my palm, his wings tickling my fingers. “But I will consider you a friend.” His expression goes shrewd. “If there’s more pizza.”

His mercenary bargaining startles a laugh from me. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Then I dub you Almost Pizza!” He lifts his hands, and the rest of the flock cheers, cries of “Almost Pizza” ringing through the clearing.

I’m grinning so hard my cheeks hurt, but I can’t stop. Here I am in Faerie, and I’m a friend to the pixies! I’m living the story Mom used to tell about the pixies befriending a human girl. God, I wish she could see this.

After the tiniest, cutest burp ever , he launches into the air and gives a high whistle. The rest of the pixies come close again, swirling around my head like a tiny galaxy of stars orbiting me as their center.

It’s magical. It’s perfect.

I clutch my crystal and try to imprint this moment on my memory. This one’s for you, Mom.

Another whistle, and they dart back into the trees, spreading out as they go until they look like tiny blue fireflies. They’re what I saw that first night!

A yawn takes me by surprise, and I slap a hand over my mouth, then say, “Sorry. I don’t know why I’m so tired. I feel like I slept half the damned day.”

“You used a great deal of magic this morning.” Aldronn offers me one of the blackberries spelled to clean teeth, then scoops me into his arms.

I should protest and say I can walk, but I don’t. Being cared for feels too freaking good. My hands go to his shoulders, and I hang on when he lowers me into the tent. Everyone always thinks I’m brave and fearless, the woman willing to travel the world on her own. And I am… most of the time. But I feel wrung out and vulnerable, and I don’t want to be alone tonight. A whisper slips from my lips as he tries to move away. “Stay.”

“Always.” Aldronn presses a kiss to my temple and gathers me close, his strong arms my sanctuary as I fall into the deepest of sleeps.