Page 53 of Finding Her (Lore of the Fields #1)

The walk to the gathering was freezing—Western Trebianna winters were no joke.

Mykie sauntered smoothly, seemingly unbothered by the cold, a trait I was growing tired of in my traveling companions.

It made me feel dramatic. That said, unlike Graysen, I could see her shiver slightly.

She was faking it just a little. Her heeled boots clacked loudly over the sound of the wind beating against the buildings surrounding us.

We had been walking for what felt like forever, but she assured me it had only been an hour.

Regardless, too long to be in this weather.

We made our way through a downtown of sorts, most buildings no more than three stories high with shops on the bottom. The streets were barren, but the empty stalls made it easy to imagine a bustling summer day.

“Here we are,” Mykie stated, turning a sharp right down an alleyway.

I stumbled with the unexpected change in direction; she hadn’t given any indication we were nearing our destination.

Hell, we’d practically walked past it. We were in a narrow, windowless alley.

Had I not placed so much faith in Graysen, and Mykie by association, I may have assumed I was about to get jumped.

Chain link fencing blocked our path, with a sturdy wooden door to our right. Mykie grabbed the handle. “FYI, the Lychan in here is a male,” she whispered, a clear callback to my confusion when learning about the world. A humbling memory from a lifetime ago.

“Thanks for the heads up,” I muttered.

We walked into the brightly lit building, and a gruff voice shouted out, “Who’s there?!”

“It’s me, Ragen!” Mykie shouted back. “I brought my friend!”

A short, claustrophobic hallway turned into a forced right, leading us to a small room with white walls and a large, round wooden table. There were enough chairs to comfortably host a moderately sized group, but only three men were present today.

The massive man directly across from me was a Quadmos, somehow surpassing even Theo’s size.

His face was wide, with a thick red beard, a brown horn on either temple, and a shaved head.

The tank he wore was barely in the clothing category at all.

It was a piece of dark fabric that hardly covered half of each pectoral.

The “ sleeve holes ” were the entire length of his side, with a thin connecting piece closing them only at his hips.

Perhaps it was more comfortable to have all four arms share one opening rather than cut specialized holes into the back for the lower set as Theo had done.

A joint of musky herbs hung loosely from his lips.

He waved a top arm while the bottom held a deck of cards.

“What’s the name?” the male Arielna to the left of the room asked me.

A pile of straight brown hair topped his narrow head.

His facial features were strong and sharp.

He had foregone wearing a shirt entirely, which seemed masochistic in this weather.

Admittedly, this room was quite hot. His olive green scales, densely layered on his chest compared to where Mykie had soft flesh, faded to chartreuse skin.

His pointed ears donned three golden hoops each.

“I’m Faeryn.” I tried to muster some confidence, giving a tiny wave with my fingers. Mykie’s friends were equally as intimidating as she was, causing me to immediately feel self-conscious about the dainty gesture.

“No reason to be shy,” the Quadmos said, looking away from me to shuffle a deck of cards. “You ever play Doors?”

“I haven’t.” Should I have studied for this? Was this a common game that I was completely unaware of like so many other things?

“Take a seat. You’ll catch on quick.”

I sat down. Mykie settled to my left, between myself and the male Arielna, and the Lychan to my right.

His fur was mousy brown with some darker speckles creating dimension amongst the blanket of hair.

Lychan’s flat faces were unlike anything I had seen on a person or animal.

The wrinkles on the bridge of this man’s nose gave the impression of a resting snarl, further bolstered by the large canine teeth hanging over his thin lower lip.

His eyes were a pale green with pin-prick pupils that were currently investigating me curiously.

Large, fluffy ears connected to the sides of his head with their tips rising a couple of inches higher than its top, adding to his already daunting height.

I wasn’t sure the ceiling would accommodate him once he stood.

Despite being the one who probably needed it the least, he wore a baggy sweater that was lumpy from the fur beneath it.

“You want anything to drink or smoke?” the Quadmos asked, continuing his shuffling.

“No, thank you.” I shook my head, worried I wouldn’t be able to handle whatever they may have available.

“What do you want to drink, Mykie?” the Arielna asked, rising from his seat to stand near the bar cart behind him with a glass in hand.

“Just a smoke, Erith. I’m going sober this time.”

“You feeling okay?” His black eyes blinked in surprise while he huffed out a laugh.

“Yeah.” She jerked a pointed thumb in my direction. “This is my buddy’s female. I have to get her back to him with both of us in okay shape or he’ll have my head.”

There it was again, me being described as “ Graysen’s ”.

Despite having assigned the label to myself internally, it was still jarring to hear it from someone else’s mouth.

Had Graysen told her that we were together?

He’d referred to me as “ his ” to Theo in a passive way, and certainly had claimed ownership behind closed doors during our activities , but this felt far more official.

Instead of being gifted an affectionate pet name when speaking to a friend or exchanging dirty talk in the privacy of our home, I was being formally introduced as belonging to him.

And that association was being tied to consequences—mandating Mykie’s sobriety. How definite.

“Anyone we know?” the Lychan asked, taking the hand of cards the Quadmos held out.

“Nah.” She shook her head. Now this surprised me. I had to fight to keep my expression neutral. Graysen and Mykie were practically family. This group didn’t know about him at all?

“Frankly, we didn’t expect your plus one today to be a female,” the Arielna snorted. “You sure your buddy isn’t a cover story? This isn’t a date, is it? I’ve never seen you invite anyone anywhere.”

The Lychan scoffed. “Mykie couldn’t score a piece of ass like that.”

“Colmar!” the Quadmos called Ragen scolded. “Have some manners in front of my guest.”

The Lychan quietly growled and took a swig from a tin pint.

Everybody patiently waited while Ragen explained the game to me.

There were forty-five cards in a deck. There were eleven Lychans, eleven Sirens, eleven Mercurians, eleven Pyrans, and one dragon.

The goal was to collect as many pairs as possible while passing one card around the table at a time, always holding a pair of two by discarding and replacing your card of choice every round.

Different pairs were worth different amounts of points.

The person with the most points at the end wins. Simple enough, right?

To say I was bad at this card game would be an understatement.

I lost epically and repeatedly, the pace allowing little room for me to get my bearings and improve.

Ragen kept a scoreboard behind him to note each victory; the individual with the fewest wins had to cover a shift from whoever had most wins.

Thankfully, this meant there was no point in adding my abysmal score to the tracking system—nobody would be asking to trade work shifts with me.

I watched as another mark was added under Mykie’s name. “What is it you guys do?” I had never asked out of respect for her privacy, but curiosity got the better of me.

“We work security,” Ragen answered quickly and factually. His tone didn’t invite questions.

Security . I knew Mykie’s job was on the down low, stressful, and best left undiscussed.

My theories leaned more toward drug dealing or some sort of sex work.

Security seemed too simple. But I supposed while glancing around the room that it made sense, I wouldn’t mess with a single soul there. Still, I felt I was missing something.

Before I could inquire for more details, the subject quickly changed to the health of Ragen’s mother.

Colmar and Erith discussed plans to bring her some home-cooked food and comfort supplies while she was ill, the kindness of their words at odd contrast with the blankness of their expressions.

I was the only one nodding my head, twisting my brows in acknowledgement of the morbidity of her situation, and offering understanding half smiles.

This group clearly cared deeply for each other, but didn’t seem to express empathy the same way I did.

A new round of Doors started. My eyes lifted to the marked board, totaling twenty-one lines scratched under their collective names.

Colmar noticed my crestfallen expression, leaning back to peek at my hand and passing me the card I needed to complete a pair.

It was the push required to not place last that round, and I shot him a grateful smile and saw his ear twitch, a subtle “ you’re welcome” .

Thanks to Colmar’s assist, Mykie came in last. She slammed her hand onto the table and scowled. “There goes my ‘no losing’ streak of the year.” The room seemed pleased about that as she pushed her chair back and excused herself to the bathroom.

“She’s a firecracker,” Ragen chuckled, unbothered by her sour change in attitude.

“Just how you like ‘em.” Erith teased.

Ragen didn’t reply, instead opting to pour himself another drink and shuffle the deck of cards while Colmar and Erith discussed dinner plans.

Mykie strode back in with her dignified expression returned and on full display. “Another game, boys?”