Page 38 of The Wind and the Wild (The Keepers of Faerie #1)

For some naive reason, I didn’t expect him to ever come into my barn, at least not when I was alone, and he is alone atop that.

He can see my hand fully, and I consider what he would do if I simply punched him.

The thought startles me—I am not the violent type.

Perhaps if I return to Emma’s, he’ll follow.

I don’t believe for a moment she was kidding about taking her cane to him.

If Niall saw him come in, he’d be at him with a rake by now.

“ What do you want?”

Blain leans against the door of the barn, looking into the stalls in mild curiosity. “ Heard you all had a visit from the fair folk last night.”

I stare, lips pressed together.

“ Did you see any of them?”

Slowly, I right the stool and sit myself down, back to him, heart pounding, continuing with the milking as if he isn’t here.

I feel his presence still as I move the bucket aside and lead Primrose out the back for grazing.

The chickens are clucking to one another, but Niall won’t hear unless I raise my voice.

I consider it, just to see him come flying in a rage.

Sunlight hits the back side of the barn, hot and stabilizing, but I feel Blain lingering, wandering behind. I tell myself to ignore him, keep ignoring him—after all, he isn’t going to do anything to me. He did nothing to me the first time, just ran for his own life without a thought.

A speck of blue catches my eye, and I stare at the flower left on the fence railing against the back wall of the barn.

Continuing with my ignoring, I step over and pick it up.

A clump of bluebells, heavy with dew, likes of which I’ve never seen in this area, stem wedged between a crack in the wood so it won’t blow off, a little piece of paper folded about.

Tomorrow. There’s a tiny doodle of a flower beside the elegant handwriting.

Momentarily, I forget who’s standing behind me and smile.

He is all right, and he says I am safe to return tomorrow?

I cannot figure any other meaning. My lips curl at the edges.

Again, I feel like crying, but there is no reason this time, so I bite my lip until the discomfort distracts me.

Off into the trees, a soft breeze blows, and I squint into the shade of the leaves, wondering—

“ I didn’t think those grew around here.”

I start at his closeness, finally turning to glare properly.

Blain steps back, but his eyes are on the flower with its little note.

Heat bubbles up my chest at how he dares step anywhere near, dares interrupt something precious left for me.

My own internal violence surprises me, how protective of Aidyn I feel in the face of this man.

I needn’t be, I know. I have the distinct impression Aidyn could snap him like a twig beneath his boot.

The realization is rather consoling. Drawing myself up, I walk past with all the calm I can muster, back through the barn.

It’s time to check on Niall with the chickens.

“ You know you’re going to have to speak to me sometime.” I hear his boots on the hay as he trots after me. He is not as graceful as Aidyn. Neither am I, but I don’t think nearly as high of myself as Blain does.

I continue not speaking.

His hand circles my arm. “ Come along now, Ve—”

Yanking away without success, I give his boot the best stomp I can, regretting my bare feet and no sharp heel with which to crack on his toes. He huffs but appears more flustered than in pain. If he touches me anywhere near my face, I shall bite his—

Wind crashes all the barn doors shut at once. Outside, Primrose lets off a startled groan, and the chickens in their attached pen squawk and flurry their feathers.

Blain drops me, something knowing flicking into his expression. “ What—”

The doors burst back open, and I yelp more in surprise than fear, getting a sudden suspicion and sitting hard on the hay-strewn floor without bothering to run for it.

Wind howls through the center of the barn, a vicious spring gale if not for the heat of it, leaves and twigs and small wild apples from the edges of the trees blowing straight through the tunnel of the barn.

Debris pelts Blain, streaks of red appearing with sudden scratches from twigs and thorns.

A few stray leaves find their way to me, but from the floor I am safe.

Blain stumbles to the ground but doesn’t seem to realize it’s safe here before he’s scrambling to his feet and running for it, cursing the fae and whatever brownie he thinks has taken a disliking to him.

No brownie could do such a thing.

But he does not live on the edge of Faerie, so how should he know?

As if a living thing, the wind follows him out, flattening a few of Mam’s poor carrot tops—they’ll be fine in a few hours.

The howling continues for a full ten seconds more, ridding the barn of any remnants of his presence, before drifting to a gentle breeze. Hands over my ears, hair disheveled, I glance into the trees.

Carefully, I call, “ Aidyn? ”

A gentle chuckle carries its way along the breeze to me, and for a moment I catch what might be a rustle in the undergrowth before it, along with the wind, disappears entirely.

I drop my hands between my knees, gazing at the mess he’s made of the barn and garden and at our very flustered cow standing just outside, gazing my way.

If she weren’t half so lazy, she’d have run for it.

If the chickens weren’t still in their pens, I’d be hunting down hens for the rest of the day.

A handful of leaves fall from my hair. Niall comes scrambling around the corner, scraps of hay flying, eyes wide.

No one from the village seems to have noticed, but I see Una running up the path, skirts bouncing.

I put my face in my hands and laugh so hard I might cry.