Page 7 of Raven Rebel (Sablewood #1)

Meara caught the faint echo of Brenna conversing, but the words were overwhelmed by the rushing of her heartbeat in her ears. Cerne, as in Lord Cerne. Leader of the Wild Hunt. One of the most well-known and feared monsters from their village’s faerie lore. The Wraith of Sablewood.

The only thing worse than having to ride with the Wraith of Sablewood was allowing her sister to ride with him, so Meara found herself sitting atop the white mare with a fae lord of legend settled behind her. A masculine forearm wrapped across her middle, pressing her back against a firm chest.

“You don’t need to hold me,” she said, trying to ignore the taut muscle against her shoulder blades and the way his thighs brushed against her backside as she shifted.

His arm fell away, skimming her hip as if he wasn’t sure she’d stay upright without his assistance.

She tensed, determined to stay balanced as his body heat soaked into her back, scorching her.

As the horses navigated the trees, he leaned one way and another, directing the horse with either his weight or his legs, she wasn’t sure, but each movement brushed his chest against her back, the touch maddening her.

The horse took a rocky step and she slid sideways a handbreadth. Cerne’s arm looped across her stomach again, anchoring her. Even if she had briefly considered throwing herself from the mare to escape his nearness, she hadn’t intended to actually do so.

“I can ride!” she hissed.

“Humans ride with saddles and stirrups. We do not.” His tone could have been considered haughty until he conceded. “But you are doing very well considering your lack of experience.”

Huffing, Meara looked to the side where Brenna sat behind Xurey on her silver mount. The two spoke quietly and wore matching small smiles.

“Why couldn’t I sit behind you?” she complained.

Cerne tsked. “And stab me in the back with your little blade? I think not.”

“I don’t have to be sitting behind you to stab you,” she muttered, her eyes drawn back to her sister. Cerne followed her gaze.

“I promise, your sister is safe with Xurey. She is the best rider I know, and Airgid is a gentle and sure-footed stallion.” His voice was warm against her ear. Her focus narrowed to his touch.

“And what of your mare?” she asked.

“Eirlys may not be the brightest, but she won’t cause any trouble if you ride with me.

” His dark chuckle rolled over her skin, and she fought off another shiver.

She had to get away from this fae male before she fell entirely under his spell.

His warmth and charming words chipped away at her misgivings, and that was dangerous.

They rode in silence and Meara got lost in her anxious thoughts. Her fingers snared in Eirlys’ snowy mane. The silken strands slipped over her knuckles as she brooded on all the ways this could end in disaster. That was safer than dwelling on the heat of the Autumn Lord behind her.

The forest thinned and buttery light filtered in, limning the trees in electrum.

Eirlys slowed and ambled to a stop. Cerne slid from his seat.

His dark hair curled around his shoulders as he looked up at her and offered his hand.

Stubbornly, she swung her leg over and dropped to the ground without accepting his assistance.

The landing jolted through her spine, but she clamped her teeth together and refused to wince.

The suggestion of a smile curved his lips as he turned toward a sprawling tavern. Smoke drifted from a multitude of chimneys, scenting the air with roasting meat and charred bread.

Meara stared up at the expanse of weathered wooden siding broken up by windows in various mismatched shapes. Spiraling calligraphy painted above the doorway declared it The Silver Spectre, Alehouse and Lodging.

Cerne paid the stable boy and urged Eirlys forward with a murmur to behave. A docile Airgid followed, head bobbing with each step.

“Well, we reached Dornadan,” Brenna said as she stepped up beside Meara with her hands on her hips, “and picked up some faeries along the way.”

Together, they passed through the open doorway.

The dim interior coated her skin in humid warmth and the lingering smog of alcohol and woodsmoke.

A few curious humans watched Cerne, though none stood or displayed any hostility.

It seemed that faeries entering this tavern was a common occurrence, and as she scanned the room, she spotted a few tapered ears among the crowd.

The patrons’ attention returned to their own tables quickly.

It was early for supper, but many people sat with plates of food in front of them. Steak pies, roasted carrots, parsnips, and potatoes, all covered in gravy. Meara’s stomach gurgled. It had been hours since breakfast.

Cerne spoke with the bar matron, his antlers dipping as he inclined his head and grinned at her.

With a crooked smile, she provided four dishes of the evening’s provisions.

Meara thanked her and offered a few silver chips, but she waved them off.

The fae lord had paid for their meal. Her stomach clenched, hating this feeling of indebtedness.

The two sisters selected a small table along the sloping wall.

It provided a sense of privacy as Xurey and Cerne sat at the polished bar top and chatted with the staff amiably.

Meara settled into her seat and took a deep, slow breath. For now, they were safe. She peeled her attention off the faeries and focused on her sister. Brenna’s eyes glittered with emotion, her breathing shallow. Meara studied her sister for a moment. “Are you well?”

Brenna’s smile was brittle as she tore away some of the pastry crust from her pie. “Of course. We were lucky to meet Lord Cerne, though I suppose they were looking for us. A puca’s magic being what it is.”

“And that is?” Meara knew Brenna was well read on the topic, while she knew almost nothing.

Taking a sip of ale, Brenna glanced up at the faeries. “Pucas are shape shifters who aid travelers, either in goodwill or for mischief. But she said she wouldn't harm us.”

Meara’s brows furrowed. “We can’t know their intentions. Words can be deceiving. They have no reason to help us.”

“We are faeries like them, like they said. And besides, it is difficult for the fae to lie.”

“We cannot be faeries.” She trailed off, her eyes on Brenna’s hands.

They looked the same as always as they slid forward and tapped the edge of Meara’s plate in a silent command.

Sighing, Meara gave in and cut into her meal.

It was overly seasoned so she took a draught of honey mead to cut the saltiness.

“It makes sense to me,” Brenna said softly.

“Faeries care about both fairness and hospitality. So if we were abandoned as babies, it makes sense we missed whatever education they provide their children, and therefore we are owed some aid.” She shrugged, turning over a chunk of potato with her fork.

Lines crossed her forehead as she glanced up.

Meara sat back in her chair and scowled. “I still don’t see how that is possible. ”

“I don’t see how I can produce fire or light with my hands, but it happened,” Brenna snapped, her jaw tight. Her agitated fingers tapped against the rough wooden tabletop.

“What are we going to do?” Meara’s words trailed off.

“See what Mother thinks, I suppose.” Brenna paused. “I hope that Tayen can help her.”

The sisters’ gazes met, agreement passing between them. Around them, the room hummed with dozens of conversations, all melding together like the thrum of a beehive.

Meara pinched the bridge of her nose. “I cannot fathom relocating our family and also having magic or not even being human.” Brenna flinched, and guilt twisted in Meara’s chest. “I’m sorry, I’m overwhelmed.

But your safety is the most important thing.

I am not upset to leave our neighbors behind.

” She rambled, hoping to bring light back into her sister’s eyes.

Brenna looked away. “We need rest and time. I think we should get a room.”

“Alright.”