Page 57 of The Moorwitch

“Go on, then.” He turns and begins walking back to the castle, his strides so long I must nearly jog to keep pace with him.

“I found the stone circle,andthe wards that guard it.”

He nods. “I told you it would be defended.”

“Yes, that is one of the precious few things youdidtell me,” I return dryly. “Lachlan, who is the faerie queen?”

He stops short. I take three more steps before I realize I’ve left him behind. Turning, I see his face set in grim lines. The night is only getting colder, and I shiver and wait for him to make his answer.

Then he sighs and flicks his fingers. “Come here.”

I frown, immediately on guard.

“You’re freezing, Rose. Comehere.”

Uncertainly, I step toward him. Then gasp as he takes his hands in mine, and the air around us stirs and sweeps in a whirl, whipping up his cloak and hair and my skirts. That wind is as warm as a summer dayand melts the frosty chill from my skin. As far as I can see, Lachlan has woven no knot, but his pupils turn as silver as mirrors, reflecting my own wide eyes back at me.

Then his gaze clears, and the wind settles, but I remain as warm as if I were hunched over a fire.

“What ...?” I look around, then pull my hands from his.

“Better?” he asks.

“Where ... where are your threads?”

“We didn’t give you mortalsallour secrets,” he says.

He resumes walking, his hair tossing about his shoulders. The castle is filled with whispering fae and candlelight; they incline their heads to Lachlan as he walks past them.

He is trying to change the subject, distracting me with summer breezes and threadless magic. With a low growl of annoyance, I hurry to keep up with him. “The faerie queen, Lachlan. Who is she? What happened to the moorwitches?”

His lips twitch into a wry smile. “She rules Elfhame, and she ruled it when the moorwitches were slaughtered, their blood running thick over the fields of faerie. The queen of the fae is a fickle shadow, my dear, and if she catches you in her realm, she will make your death painful and slow.”

I swallow hard; fear and anger fill me with a chill no amount of conjured wind could dispel. “Why didn’t you tell me this in the beginning?”

“Would it have made a difference?”

My lips twist. “I would have liked to know what I was getting into! What if I’d charged into Elfhame with no idea what awaited me?”

“I could talk for days of my world, and you’d still have not aninklingwhat awaits you there. Forget this queen; she will never know you were there, if you play this right. Just don’tcharge inlike a crazed ox.”

“Well I can’t charge, sneak, or so much as turn a jig into Elfhame if I can’t even open the door. I found the stone circle—so what spell will open the way?”

“I don’t know. It will have changed since I was last there.”

“You must knowsomething!”

“I know that to open the way to the faerie green, you must pay homage to its queen.”

I grab his arm, stopping him. It is like grabbing hold of a tree in winter. “I ask you for help, and you give me nursery rhymes?”

He gives me look of a long-suffering teacher at wit’s end with a slow student. “That has always been the way of Elfhame. There will be a spell to open the way, and it must be a spell of homage. What form that will take, I cannot say, having never paid homage to this queen.”

“But that makes no sense! You’re speaking in riddles!”

“It’s not something that can beexplained, silly mortal girl.” He smiles, snatching a lock of my hair and coiling it around his finger. “If I had all the answers, I wouldn’t needyou.”

“And how much happier we both would be.”