Page 9 of Faeling (Monstrous World #4)

“It was just sudden is all. He’s never asked about anything like that before. I don’t know that he’s even taken a lover in years.” Ravenna hoped, the more she prattled on about the other night and the awkward way it’d ended, that she might start to believe it was less disastrous than it felt.

She was deluding herself, of course. The moment the question fell from his lips, the possessive fae inside her had viciously hissed a denial— there’s no one for you but me .

It’d taken all her will to keep her magic from leaping across the table to wrap itself around him in a proprietary vice.

Honestly, if he hadn’t dismissed her, she might have fled of her own volition.

Perhaps it was for the best. She could serve him and oversee her goals without nightly games wherein she found and hoarded every new little discovery about him. She would miss his company, but she didn’t need it. Or him.

Oberon blew her hair back in a smug huff. You’re jealous.

Ravenna looked up from her lap, where she’d been stringing daisies together into a little flower crown, to glare at the chortling stallion bastard. “I am not jealous.”

Oberon dipped his horn in a mocking gesture. You’re so very jealous.

“No. I was surprised .”

The unicorn had the audacity to throw his head back and whinny a great horsey laugh. Ravenna pouted as he made a fool of himself, prancing around and laughing. The rest of the herd looked on in amusement as they selected tender grass from the tufts bursting out of every rocky crag and crevice.

Over a league out from the city, the rocky hills and windswept plains could be a dangerous place.

Snow leopards occasionally came down from the mountains, and wolves were known to prowl the plains, but amongst over a dozen unicorns, Ravenna had nothing to fear.

So far, all she’d seen were a few marmots poking their heads from their burrows and an eagle circling above looking for easy prey.

And the big dumb unicorn, of course.

“How father ever rode into battle with you is beyond me,” she muttered.

Your father knew to respect his elders and listen to good advice. Pawing the rocky ground with a hoof, Oberon told her, You are too stubborn for your own good, Crow. Tell him who you are to him.

“Absolutely not,” she argued. “A man like Vallek will want to have his way. He’ll only get in the way of my plans.”

Someone should, he grumbled.

Ravenna rolled her eyes. “I don’t want to argue about this again.”

I think between a rock and your head, the latter is the harder of the two. Oberon shook out his mane in exasperation. Goddesses deliver me from idiotic foals.

“I’m not an idiot for wanting revenge.”

No, but you are an idiot for throwing your life away on it. You have found your azai . He’s strong and can protect you. Make a life for yourself with him, put aside your revenge, and live. It’s what your parents would want.

That was all true, of course, but Ravenna wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of admitting it.

Sighing, she turned her true face up to the summer sun, relishing the warmth on her skin.

She always enjoyed visiting Oberon and the herd, even if it came with a lecture.

Getting out from the confines of the city, letting her glamour drop, was an indulgence she never took for granted.

“I may not be able to visit for a while,” she said, ignoring how Oberon’s ears swung backwards at her obvious avoidance. “With the king back in the city, there are more eyes.”

Mostly two, both of which belonged to the lord commander. Ugh. She didn’t know what’d gotten Ulrich’s kilt in a twist about her, but he was determined to root out all her secrets.

How long do you intend to keep up this ruse? Oberon demanded.

“As long as it takes. It’s not so bad.”

The unicorn huffed. And do you—

Leave the foal alone, Obi . Callistix came to stand alongside her, nudging Ravenna’s shoulder with her muzzle.

Someone has to talk sense into her, mother.

Head bobbing, Callistix asked, Who is more senseless—the one who seeks revenge or the one who keeps trying the same argument to no avail?

Ravenna giggled under her hand as Oberon’s tail swished. I’m merely keeping my promise to her father to keep her alive.

Here she is. Alive. Callistix hooked the shaft of her horn beneath Ravenna’s chin, lifting her head so she could see more of her. Looks to be healthy.

For now, Oberon groused. That’s liable to change the longer she denies her azai and continues down a path that leads to Amaranthe.

We will sort that out when we near it. There’s no use fussing over it now.

Ravenna patted Callistix’s leg. “Thank you, grandmare,” she said, lifting her woven flower crown to hook over the unicorn’s horn.

Callistix let the flowers fall onto her forelock, and Ravenna swore the mare stood a little taller.

Perhaps it was unorthodox to call a unicorn grandmare —and even more so for the unicorn to allow it—but Callistix was the closest thing to a grandmother Ravenna had ever known.

As a halfling, she’d hardly been tolerated in her mother’s human family.

It didn’t help that all the human kin Aine had known had already passed long before Ravenna was born; Aine’s great-great-grandnieces and -nephews found her and her halfling child at best an oddity.

It only isolated Aine in that seaside cottage further. Ravenna became Aine’s whole world, her bulwark against the tide of sadness whenever Maxim had to go away.

A soft breath ruffled her hair, and Callistix dropped her head, allowing Ravenna to pet her velveteen muzzle.

You’re my favorite, you know.

Ravenna grinned smugly. “I know.”

Mother—

Now, tell me more about this plan of yours with the spiders.

It was difficult leaving the herd. Two new foals had been born just that spring, and there was always news and gossip to learn whenever she visited.

However, the hour grew late, and the sun began to drop.

The longer summer day granted her a little more time, but eventually she had to follow her feet back to Balmirra.

Bidding farewell to the herd, Oberon and the new foals walked with her part of the way, but she sent them back when they neared the bend in the path that would make them visible to the city garrison.

The watchtowers glittered in the sun with the many scopes pointed in every direction, hunting for incoming threats, and the enmity between orcs and unicorns was ancient.

Please be safe, Oberon said before turning back.

I will, I promise.

He huffed an affectionate breath in her face, warming her cheeks, and she kissed his muzzle.

Good evening, Crow.

Goodnight, Oberon the Put-Upon.

You aren’t funny! he called after her, but she only laughed and waved.

The path she followed was a small one that wended and wove around the shallow rises of the craggy scrubland that characterized the land to the east of Balmirra.

Hares bounded and wrens fluttered about in the late afternoon, and she thought she spotted the triangular ears of a fox not far off the path.

As the great shadow of the city fell upon her, Ravenna lifted her cowl and put on her false face.

Although there was nothing truly corporeal about the glamour, it still stuck to her like a film, a layer she could sense just above her own skin.

She’d gotten so used to wearing it now, she hardly felt it anymore, and maintaining it for long periods wasn’t so taxing.

Thankfully King Vallek didn’t require her presence for more than a few meetings with his generals and their evening games of talfon, so, alone in her room, Ravenna could wear her own face for a while.

However, she was always careful to eat and bathe at times less popular with his other staff, and whenever she ventured into the city proper, she kept her face hidden deep within her cowl.

Of course, her height marked her as other.

But the orcs of Balmirra had grown used to her presence by now, as she was a common sight in the lower city’s bazaars.

The king paid her a tidy allowance, which she used to buy threads for embroidering, sweet-smelling oils for candles and lotions, and once in a while little honey cakes or sugar cubes for the herd.

Between the embroidering and pack of cards she’d brought with her from the bower, she kept herself fairly entertained in her comfortable little room in the royal quarters.

She couldn’t say she’d made any friends or allies in the city per se; most were wary of her, worried perhaps that she might tell them an inauspicious fortune.

Still, her money was good, so she procured what she wanted.

The bazaars were also excellent places to gather information, and she always kept her ears out for news of the faelands.

The orcs and fae had always been fractious neighbors, but it was a time of at least tenuous peace, so some trade was managed at the borders.

The king and his warriors may have gotten round the kingdom, but it was the merchants and traders who knew the land best. They brought commodities and stories, each more valuable than the last.

Nothing of real note had come up in her eavesdropping, but she was hopeful. The everyday orcs of the bazaar knew and spoke of things never mentioned in Vallek’s court, so it was worth visiting whenever she could.