Page 17 of Faerie Fate (Fae Academy for Halflings #7)

“My father isn’t in power yet. Soon, I think. My grandfather ruled during the time of the Great Pixie War but he lost his life on the front lines. That’s when Tywin took over.” Mike missed his next step and stumbled, forcing Bronwen and me off balance with him.

One fae woman with a child let out a squeak and hustled her kid away from us, stopping their play.

We needed different clothes immediately or we’d never get anyone to talk. I licked my cracked lips, clearing my throat. Noren darted ahead and nipped at butterflies darting above reedy stalks of pink flowers.

There weren’t many houses around us yet. If we were close to a village, then we’d have a way to walk before we made it to the heart.

I gently unpeeled myself from Mike, who looked almost relieved to be free of me, and gestured for him to stay with Bronwen while I scouted.

“I’ll find us some clothes. Okay? Just rest.”

Bronwen dropped gratefully down in a patch of soft grass while Mike collapsed on his back.

Another set of riders passed us at a faster clip than the first. The road was busy. The angle of the sun probably put us around midday. Where was everyone, though? Most of the farms we passed were silent with only a few, like the riders and the children, out in the open.

Which would work in my favor, for sure, since I’d have to steal the clothes. If I could steal a car, then I could grab some laundry. Easy, right?

I looked for laundry lines but saw none.

Frustrated, I quickened my pace back to Mike and Bronwen.

Together, we made our way down the road further, until the path widened and the houses grew closer.

A magic-made wall of wood about eight feet high separated the rest of the village from the outskirts of the manor house.

Or did they call it a keep? History had never been my strong suit.

Bronwen was the first to spot the laundry hanging out to dry on a line strung between a cottage and a nearby barn.

“Will those work?” she asked.

A smile split my features. “They’ll have to.”

I’d never been good at transformation spells, not when it comes to clothing. Shifting my body? Sure. Changing my clothing? Not so much. That type of transfiguration didn’t come easily to me, and with Mike low on magic…

I held the others back with a hand and glanced left, right. A slight breeze pushed the line into a shaky dance, the clothes held in place with pegs.

“Tavi, be careful,” Bronwen warned.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got this.”

I crouched low and crept toward the house. Despite the warmth of the day, smoke puffed up from a chimney, and there were no windows facing this side of the house. Whoever tended the line must have been inside.

Several earth-toned tunics flapped in the breeze. Fast. Grab them and go .

Grinning to myself, I snuck forward and nabbed a shirt. The pants were a little large but they’d have to do for one of us, since we weren’t exactly swimming in options at the moment. With Bronwen as a lookout, I stuffed the clothing under my arms and moved on to a mud-brown cloak.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

The voice blasted through me, the woman’s accent lilting and unfamiliar. A chill skittered up my spine.

“Get away from my property!”

I straightened and turned in time to watch her rear back like a pitcher at a baseball game. Her features twisted with rage as she launched a fireball at me.

Stomach dropping, I jumped backward, avoiding the blaze, and it landed on a swath of flowers, igniting them instantly. The petals turned to ash.

“Get away from there! Go on, now. Drop the clothes.” The woman launched a second fireball.

This one lobbed close enough to take a bit of my hair with it and the stench burned my lungs.

A growl split the air and Noren sprinted in front of me, shielding me with his body. The fae woman shrieked at the sight of him, her next fireball going astray and hitting the roof of her barn.

“Direwolf! The Unseelie are here!”

Torn between fight and flight, the fae woman gathered another round of fire between her outstretched fingertips, but I couldn’t wait for her to steel her nerves.

Noren provided the perfect cover as we took off back toward the road. Chest heaving, I tossed the cloak and the pants at Mike, who was in no shape to run.

“Here. Get changed so we can get the hell out of here,” I muttered. “She’ll draw the neighbors.”

Mike lifted his gaze to mine and hastily looked away. My insides seethed. Nothing was good enough to get him to see me for me again. Not with this scar disfiguring my neck. Mike would never want me. Not maimed. Not belonging to a creature like Kendrick.

“I didn’t get to steal any food. But we’ll find something,” I promised him.

He exchanged cloaks while Bronwen and I changed into tunics. We discarded our old clothes underneath a row of yew trees.

“It’s fine. Let’s just go.”

The knot in my throat grew. We hustled down a few side streets until the sounds of the woman’s yells began to fade.

The tunic fit was too loose but it gave me room to maneuver as I stalked through the alleys between buildings.

There were fires everywhere, each of the decrepit if tiny cabins trailing smoke into the clear sky. Someone had to have something cooking that we could take.

I managed to find a few pieces of meat roasting over an open flame in someone's front yard. A tiny push of magic protected my hand from the heat and I grabbed them, hurrying back to where Mike and Bronwen waited.

Pleasure spiraled. The freedom of being able to accomplish something so small without a terrible skull-cracking headache or the cold chills…I’d never take it for granted again.

Madam Muerte’s zombie curse may very well be the death of me. And it took being healthy again, free from the symptoms, for me to actually realize the severity of it.

I shuttered those negative thoughts away and held out the still-steaming meat for Mike. “Here. This will help.”

Noren paced frantically around us, digging grooves into the desiccated dirt road. The fur between his shoulder blades lifted, his lips peeled back from his teeth while he paced. He’d have our backs, I knew without a doubt.

“Thanks, Tavi.” Mike refused to meet my gaze. “But you should eat.”

My own hackles lifted, bristling with his dismissal. He focused instead on the scar around my neck until the line of melded skin grew hot. “Oh? What I find isn’t good enough for you?”

His brows hiked up. “That’s not what I said.”

“We can’t stay here for much longer. That woman was serious with the fireballs.” Bronwen rubbed her hands along her arms and shook her head. “She might send people after us.”

She refused the offered meat, so I held it out to Mike until he had no choice but to take it.

“We eat, and we find some kind of public gathering place,” Mike said through a mouthful of food. He hastily swallowed. “That way we can ask around. Surely someone can point us in the right direction.”

Bronwen hiked her thumb over her shoulder. “We’re definitely not going to have any luck back there.”

“No, we won’t,” Mike agreed. “But if we keep going down this road, we’ll hit Mirwen. Or whatever town constitutes Mirwen right now. The tavern there is old. Really old. Odds are good it’s standing now.”

Luck hasn’t been my bread and butter. If anything, I’ve taken out stock in Murphy’s Law. “I can go check it out, give you time to ground yourself and get your magic back up.”

“No!” Mike was quick to answer. “No, it’s fine.”

I shifted from foot to foot, watching Noren. His eyes fixed on something in the distance but the road was empty from both sides and the fae woman’s shouts had stopped. “I’ve got it covered,” I said irritably.

He glanced at my scar again. “You’re not going alone. That’s final.”

Yeah, because he didn’t trust me. With the mate bond, no matter how much distance or time between us, even in a different world, Mike knew Kendrick had a hold on me. Even though I couldn’t feel him now, who knew what kinds of strings Kendrick could pull from our time?

Especially if the mate bond went soul deep.