Page 78 of The Moorwitch

“Where is he?” I demand.

They goggle, until I step to one and yank on his lacy cravat. Then he starts and says, “The waterfall, north of here.”

“Take me to himnow.”

The faerie hisses, baring pointed teeth in irritation. “Look, the human is hysterical. Typical mortal, overstating its importan—”

The faerie cuts off in a yelp, thanks to the stinging knot I Weave in a trice. He rubs his shoulder, where my magic pricked him like a needle, and glares at me.

“I could snap your neck, girl.”

“Go on, then. I’m sure your master will look leniently upon you for it.”

Snarling, he relents and stalks away. I follow at his heels, reaching threateningly for my spool whenever he slows. In a way, dealing with these sulky, strange fae is not dissimilar to handling a classroom of surly ten-year-olds.

We trek for several minutes over a rise; the land here is a jumble of rock outcrops and tumbling ravines, with little foliage higher than my waist. A brittle wind grazes among the dry heather and seems to startle and flee at our approach, setting the moor to crackling.

Soon the sound is drowned out by the rush of water, and we come to a stony, glacial blue stream carving its way through the land in a frantic rush. A short distance upriver, my escort gives an indignant wave, then departs the way we’d come.

I squeeze through two sharp boulders and see a bright but small waterfall pouring into a round basin, the spot quite hidden by high crags of rock. Lachlan sits beneath the water, his head tilted back so that it drags at his hair. When he sees me, he rises, and with a curse, I turn around.

He’s completely naked.

My cheeks flame; I fold my arms and try to forget what little I saw as he approaches from behind me. Spotting a cashmere robe slung over a rock, I grab it and toss it blindly back, then stare very hard at a patch of silver-blue lichen clinging to the boulder in front of me.

“Youburst in uponme, Rose dearest,” he says in my ear, making me jump. “Such blushing modesty—how exquisitely mortal you are.”

I turn hesitantly and am relieved to see he has covered himself. His white hair hangs nearly to his collarbone, as silk smooth as ever and dripping with freezing water. The cold doesn’t seem to affect him in the slightest; he truly is a creature with winter in his heart.

“I’d nearly forgotten,” he says, as he runs his fingers through his wet hair, shaking water from it and leaving it in a tangle. “The waterup here is less tainted than it is in the south. Its teeth still hold a wild bite. You ought to give it a try. Let it wash the mortal stench off you.”

I only look at him and feel a seething anger rise behind my eyes. How did I ever feel a stir of warmth at his touch? How did his flattery ever bring a blush to my cheeks? How could I have been such a fool?

Lachlan takes one look at me, and his expression sobers. “You saw her.”

“Saw her!” I shout, a dam bursting. “I did a good deal more thanseeher, you lying snake! Youknew, you knew from the beginning what Conrad North was, and that I’d meet him and he’d tie a truth knot over me and youmeantfor me to meet him. All of this was some grand, devilish scheme to which Ineveragreed!”

“Sit down and cease with this shrieking. Let us talk as reasonable—”

“I willnotsit down!” Surprising even myself, I plant my hand on his chest and give him a shove. His eyes widen in astonishment. “I will take no more commands from you,Manannán, or the Briar King, or whatever you truly call yourself, not after you’ve done nothing but lie and manipulate and use me. I didn’t meet Conrad by chance. Youthrewme into his path.”

His face warps, anger contorting the cool line of his mouth. All civility, all gentility is gone as his mask drops completely. “Of course I used you. Was that not evident from the beginning? Did I not make it clear I had a use for you? And as for the rest, you can thank me. Oh, yes,thank me!”

I scoff, and he raises his finger, like a scolding schoolteacher.

“Oh, think it through, Rose. You are no idiot, despite this display of irrationality. Conrad North would snap your neck before he let you set foot in Elfhame. Or what do you think happened to poor old Fiona?”

My eyes widen.

“That’s right,” he continues. “She ran afoul of the Gatekeeper, that’s what. Liam North killed her, and his son would not hesitate to killyouif he knew your true purpose.”

“No,” I breathe. “He wouldn’t.”

Would he? After all, how well do I know Conrad? Not nearly well enough, given he’s been hiding the fact he’s the fae queen’s Gatekeeper all this time.

Who knows what he might be capable of or the extremes to which he might go? I touch my lips, feeling his kiss again. Just a show for the queen’s sake, he’d claimed.

Oh yes, he seems capable ofgreatextremes.