Page 42 of The Wind and the Wild (The Keepers of Faerie #1)

R elief takes hold at the gentle silver gazing up at me, and I smile, hoping it doesn’t look too worried. “ Hello —”

He starts, jerking as if a monster stands just over my shoulder, nearly pushing me off the side of the pillows.

My heart leaps. Falling still, I see the moment he realizes it is only the little human he’s made friends with, not something far worse.

We gaze at each other for a long moment as I wonder what monsters he must be remembering.

Are they the same as mine?

“ Hi,” I whisper again, thinking of doing something to comfort him but still shy of simply wrapping my arms about him. I settle for, “ I brought more pie. I need your expertise.”

He lets out a long strange sound I take for a sigh, glancing about the room. I sit as quiet as I can, waiting for him to wake fully, not wishing to frighten him. The idea I could is unsettling, but he looks so purely flustered by my presence that I don’t wish to speak, not yet.

Finally, he rolls back onto his side, expression tense, and puts his hand across his eyes, rubbing his temples.

Manners be damned, I ask, “ Are you hurting worse?”

He doesn’t answer.

“ Aidyn,” I warn in my best motherly tone. “ Please stop avoiding the topic. I am not a danger to you.”

He blinks, moving his fingers aside enough to gaze at me oddly. Still, he doesn’t speak.

Ignoring the heat in my face, I tell him, “ I am worried.”

His expression is unreadable, but I guess a sort of exasperation. Pointing to above the pillows, he faintly says, “ Will you feed the kittens please?”

Glancing at the little jar of honey, I tell him, “ It’s empty.”

Frowning, he makes a jerking motion with his chin, glancing at the shelf where he keeps all his little trinkets. “’Twas not last night—” He returns his hand to over his face. “ Brownie.”

“ Oh,” I say, forcing myself not to chuckle. The library has taken up a resident brownie—of course it would get into the food while Aidyn slept. I wonder if it’s eaten the mushroom soup in the kitchen. Hopefully it only prefers sweet things. We’ll need to guard the pie.

Glancing down at Aidyn, I realize he may not be well enough to stand. It would be cruel to wait on food for the little creatures until he feels well again.

Remembering his warnings about their bees and their sting, I say, “ How about I... go back into Nevyan and find some of the places I’ve marked in Faerie that have berries. They’ll eat berries, won’t they?”

He peeks at me through the crack in his fingers. I cock my head at him, wishing he would smile or make any sort of human expression.

“ Aidyn, I do not like you in such a state. Will you—”

“ You think I like myself in such a state?” he snaps, and a few of the fallen leaves along the floorboards skitter past. I jump, flinching despite myself.

His expression falls, and we gaze at each other for a long moment.

He simply returns to covering his eyes with his hand.

Frustration wars with sympathy in my chest. I know little of what he has endured, so I cannot rightfully judge, but surely by now he must realize I am only concerned.

Huffing, I set my basket with its pies down above the pillows. “ Very well. I shall go look for berries. But no human berries, since they are picky little things.”

“ There is a plum tree,” he says, and I blink, surprised.

He extends a finger to the other side of the library.

“ I believe I saw it by the brambles the last time we stepped out near the falls. I meant to go back. Should not be out of sight of the library, if you return through the passageway door.”

My mind collects a vague memory of seeing a fruit tree of sorts when I was by the brambles, but I was quite preoccupied by the strange creature hiding in the bushes themselves until Aidyn came to chase it away. After that, I was much too nervous of following him into the woods to consider a tree.

“ I remember . . . I think.”

Again, he peeks out at me from between his fingers.

I still cannot read his expression but have a difficult time not putting a negative emotion to the hard press of his lips.

I tell myself again that if he is lying down in such a way, not bothering to accompany me out the back, he must truly feel poorly.

It likely has nothing to do with me that his gaze is unfriendly.

More so, the fae are strange folk. I should not be reading his expression in this situation as I would another mortal’ s.

“ Do not go into the trees,” he says, and that intensity has returned. “ The door should put you out right beside the plum tree. Do not go out if it doesn’t. Do not go farther past the tree. You remember what I told you—”

“ Yes, yes, never venture into the trees without you,” I say lightly. It worries me less all of a sudden, the idea of walking into the back of the library and out into the woods. I will be all by myself. Without anyone there, I will be fine. I can worry about myself and myself alone.

“’Tis right near the brambles—”

“ Yes, so you said,” I say, trying to offer a teasing smile. I do not like the way his eyes follow me with such sharp inspection. “ I will not go into the trees. I have been quite scared off.”

Glancing at the window, I think of the hunt hound Aidyn dispatched of and the fact that I haven’t stepped foot there since. “ Would you like me to go elsewhere and find berries?”

“ ’Tis more dangerous.”

“ Is it?” I’ve been doing so since I was a child.

“ You are incredibly lucky you never found yourself lost to begin with.”

“ Oh.”

“ If you can keep the library in your sight, it is difficult to lose your way. The door should put you right beside it; just think of it as strongly as you can. And do not venture away from the entrance it makes for you.”

I know this, but the way he says it has me pausing. I glance at the basket where the kittens are still sleeping and consider if this cannot wait until tomorrow, until he is recovered. Yesterday he was not himself, no matter how I spoke to him or made him comforting food. Today he is worse.

The longer I stare, the colder his gaze feels. I came with a great deal of determination to find more truths about him, but it withers under his chill. I hate how laid vulnerable he is. I do not believe I would hate it so if he allowed me to offer help in some way. Then I would only be worried.

I am helping by doing this.

After taking the things out of my basket, I loop it back over my arm for something to carry the plums in, considering a pie if I can gather enough, and put a log onto the fire, not knowing what else to do.

“ Here.”

When I turn, he is working the tiniest ring off his finger, offering it. Automatically, I hold out my palm.

“ Do not go anywhere else. If for any reason you cannot find your way back, picture this place, and this will point your steps in the correct direction.”

Anxiety twines in my chest at the suggestion I may need such a thing, but I slip the ring onto my thumb, where it fits nicely. It is light as air, but the pressure of it seems to weigh upon my finger. It feels strange to be wearing something from these lands.

Shifting on the pillows, Aidyn makes a movement as if he is going to sit, then goes still, something flickering across his expression.

He keeps his eyes closed and does not speak to me again.

I glance at the little jars of salves along the window, which he has not touched, and think perhaps it was a foolish thing for a human to assume she could offer aid to a creature of Faerie with a few jars of human herbs.

Gathering my nerves, I touch the back of his hand. His eyes don’t open, and he curls his arm away from my touch, under the blanket.

I do not push him—not everyone wishes for company when they are feeling poorly.

Pausing on my way out, I return to the kittens and place them in the circle he has created out of his arms. They mewl and crawl under his chin to settle.

“ Flower,” he says with much exasperation, but he does not try to push them back to their basket. If he will not accept comfort from me, perhaps he can from the little creatures he loves.

Satisfied, I tell him, “ I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

He says nothing more, and I trot out of the warm little room and down the hallway, weaving through the maze of books, finding it strangely easy to follow the disturbed dust along the floor where we last ventured through. Aidyn’s footsteps are decidedly less messy, as if he barely walked by at all.

Laying my hand against the ancient handle, I feel the strange cool of it, the otherworldly assurance that there is magic swirling about this place as it does about Aidyn. I picture the edges of the plum tree I saw, just past the brambles.

For good measure, I whisper, “ I need to go to the plum tree just outside the library please. It is important.”

Turning the handle, I step carefully down into the tunnel, finding the same sprites hanging from the roots of the ceiling, unfurling their little limbs to gaze at me and scatter aside as I pass.

“ Sorry,” I whisper, wondering how long they sleep when not disturbed.

When I press out through the opening, I half expect to find the same brambles as last time, beside the waterfall. Instead, I am looking up at a thick twisted trunk of a plum tree heavy with fruit. A grin tugs at my lips, a small laugh along with it.

“ Library, you are a marvel,” I say.

Pushing myself out into the open and glancing back, I brace myself to find the rotting corpse of some hound spread among the leaves.

It has been quite a time, and I’m not sure what else would have happened to it.

Perhaps animals here scavenge as they do on my side of the trees.

Perhaps the other fae took away any remnants of the hounds they let come too close to the border.

Where did Aidyn hide from them? Would they simply not check the library?