Page 16 of The Wind and the Wild (The Keepers of Faerie #1)

I n the early morning, when the light is gray and the sun still struggles to warm the air, I slip out of bed, restless and uncomfortable.

After writing Una a note, I will be back before night , and easing out the front door, I return home and gather food into a basket.

The cow needs her milking, and I toss hay in for her to eat while I fill the pail, leaning my forehead against her warm side.

She gives off a low, and the world feels normal and like any other springtime.

I stand in the open barn doors as the sun finally creeps over the edge of the trees.

After scattering feed in for the chickens, I set their warm eggs into the basket and take the long way around the edge of the woods, avoiding anyone up and about at this hour.

At the hawthorn, I close my eyes and step across, and a chill crawls over my skin.

To my eyes, there is nothing different in the air—the same distinct stillness with the barest rustle of the leaves in strange places, the honeysuckle nearby, and nothing in the trees.

Something about the smell is different—a thick uncomfortable musk like mud or animal fur beneath the strength of the honeysuckle.

Stepping out from its maze, I gaze into the empty trunks.

Perhaps Aidyn has a visitor. I did not tell him when I was coming.

The thought is both concerning and heartening. Perhaps he is not alone after all and someone much more capable than a human from a tiny village is offering him aid.

Hunt hound.

A distinct memory of their smell pricks at the back of my mind, and I freeze halfway to the library. I glance toward the treetops only to realize the dim light is not that of the normal Faerie morning. The sun is not quite up.

It is only a few steps from the honeysuckle, not even ten seconds of a walk, but I almost turn and run. But crossing the human border will not help me, will it? They can cross the human border—they have been crossing the human border. If I turn and run—

A subtle growl echoes through the trees.

One bark. Then two.

Three is my death.

My feet carry me a step back before I tell myself, No, do not run.

Think. It isn’t much use. My heart is beating too fast. A fleeing human will certainly attract them.

They will hunt me down. Perhaps this time they will be more interested in killing me, not just wounding me in a moment of startled panic.

If I move, they will certainly kill me. If I do not—

The library door creaks open. My breath comes out in a huff. A familiar pale hand on the door handle and a fall of dark hair as he leans out. Gesturing wildly, his eyes too wide even from here, he waves me toward him more aggressively when I do not immediately move.

Glancing around, I am still frozen, frightened my movement will attract them.

“ Run ,” he hisses.

My muscles unlock as if the voice of an ally is all I need. I bolt across the empty dozen steps between us.

Aidyn does not move out of the doorway quickly enough, and I nearly stumble into him in my haste. His arm catches me as he drags us both inside, shutting the door in a fluid movement and leaning against it.

As the safety of the library wraps around me, my breathing catching up, I wonder all at once if I was overreacting.

Were they even the same monsters?

Of course they were; I heard their barking.

Putting a finger to his lips, Aidyn keeps his weight on the door and whispers, “ Shh ...”

I catch my breath and hear footfalls—giant paws on the other side of the door, claws on leaves.

My body goes still. I’m aware of each and every noise I might make.

In this section of the library, we are in the dim little cramped corner where the books are nothing but dust. For one of the noble folk, it is not as much room as I would have expected for a library of Faerie.

Aidyn is close enough I can feel the heat of his skin, the subtle brush of his uneven breaths.

Too frightened to move into the more spacious hall, I stare at the embroidery on the neckline of his shirt, unable to be properly embarrassed past my terror.

Softly, his hand drifts up to touch my elbow as if he wishes to steady me.

Like a breath of wind through the leaves, he whispers, “ They will leave.”

I wish his certainty comforted me. “ Did you send word for help—”

My voice is not as controlled as his, and his finger touches my lips.

He nods, and his silver eyes are steady on the crack between the door and floor.

I do not have the courage to look down. Despite the fear— can he hear my pounding heart?

—his touch is comforting. His skin smells sweet and clean, and I wonder if he’s found a river nearby to bathe in or if this is what all fae are like.

Honeysuckle clings to his clothes. Perhaps he has been walking through it.

His eyes drift back to mine, then fall across my cheeks and lips before returning to my eyes.

He’s slightly bowed in the cramped hallway, putting most of his weight as a brace against the door, and his face is as near to mine as when he first stood under me beside the bookshelf.

His breath tickles my cheek. The gentle touch of his hand through my long sleeve feels heavy, stable.

Long after the footfalls and snuffling have disappeared, he finally shifts. I look away, blinking, cheeks suddenly hot, still startled and glancing at the pitiful barrier of the door.

Running a hand down the side of his loose shirt, he says quietly, “ Come upstairs with me.”

“ Are they gone?”

“ From the door. They may roam for a time more. They like the dark but should not be here so late in the morning.”

I nod, feeling even more foolish. As he glances my way sheepishly and heads through the shelves, I feel the sudden lack of his safety by my side and stumble after.

Following the click of his walking cane to the middle of the library, I watch him sit on the bottom step as if his body weighs on him.

Resting his elbows on his knees, he regards me strangely, as if the little interaction was as odd to him as it was to me.

“ I’m... sorry I made you come down,” I say, regretting the pain he’s evidently in. “ I thought there was enough light. The sun was higher at home.”

“ They behave differently here than there, and so does the light. It is not your fault. The sun does not rise at the same time every day. It will be dealt with shortly. You won’t have to worry.”

Belatedly, I realize, “ You know what they are.”

Letting out a long breath, he whispers, “ Cù -s ìth. ”

The word sounds strange upon my ears and slips from my mind in a moment, same as the faerie words in the books. This one I can just barely cling to, perhaps because he said it directly to me. The impression of his tone has my heart squeezing.

Still, I realize I have no idea what he’s saying. “ Pardon? ”

Blinking, he looks up. “ They are... not hounds, though I realize they resemble your human dogs. They are not dangerous in and of themselves. In the past, they simply lured humans into the realms of Faerie.”

“ That is dangerous,” I whisper when he does not continue.

“ You’re correct,” he admits, leaning his shoulder into the railing. “ In the past, that is what they were. In the generations leading up to these... they have become more dangerous to all, even our kin.”

Without meaning to, I glance at the cane still held loosely in his fingers. But he is not looking into my eyes enough to catch the question, and I have no heart to ask.

“ You may be correct,” he mumbles. “ They may be coming across your borders if you disturbed something they do not appreciate. I did not realize they still venture to the human realm. What disturbed them when they injured you?”

So, we’re just speaking of these things now?

Now he has asked me, I don’t wish to bare it all to him when I still can’t grasp why he is here or what crime he may have committed.

It is ridiculous—he’s attempting to help—but I cannot calm my nerves.

“ We ’re not certain. But later we found a crushed faerie circle. We think perhaps a child trod on it.”

He nods, then shrugs a shoulder tenderly. “ It was too long ago for us to know now. If they have just begun to come out once more, you may still have a chance to figure out why. If you see anything of note, please tell me.”

My brow furrows without me meaning for it to. “ I thought there are others coming...”

“ There are.” He looks away. “ Soon. But it would be helpful to know why they have crossed the borders.”

It makes fine-enough sense, and there must be others on the way if he says so plainly. Still, something nags at me. “ Will you go with them? The... others?”

A wince in his expression has his jaw twitching, but it doesn’t appear to be anger. Discomfort, perhaps. “ No. They will not know I am here.”

There is something in his tone that is not to be argued with. Of course, I could insist upon those particular details, but who am I to ask? He does not know me, and it is not as if I would tell him all the details of my life.

I will not even tell him my name.

There is, though, another matter. “ Are you hiding here?”

No confusion enters his features. Perhaps he expected the question—if the stories are true, fae are wise. “ Yes. ”

Such a blunt answer was unexpected, and it has my heart jumping. “ Have you done something awful?”

The moment the words leave my lips, I know I should not have asked—not in such a way. It is not only too personal but may ignite his anger. I have not forgotten the sound of his screaming, and I never shall.

Opening my mouth to bury the question, to say anything else, I’m stopped by his soft, “ Nothing that would bring harm to you.”