Page 69 of The Wind and the Wild (The Keepers of Faerie #1)
Huffing and picking up her heavier traveling skirts, she follows me up the path, muttering the whole time while I try to keep a schooled expression.
Da is unhooking Blackberry from the cart, stopping to scoop me up once we reach the shade of the barn.
I groan dramatically as he swings me side to side, hiding my face in his shoulder.
It feels as if they’ve been gone much longer than a few hot summer weeks.
“ What is he doing?” Da mutters, and I know Blain and his father have indeed decided it’s wise to make their way to our cottage. I glance at the wood-chopping axe in the corner and hope Da doesn’t remember its presence.
“ Long story,” I say when he sets me down. “ I think at least Blain is coming to talk to me. I think—”
Da glances at me as if daring me to offer a good reason for their visit. Considering the hound last night, I manage not to smile at the rage in his expression. If Faerie does not take its revenge, my father is not restricted to the woods.
“ They were luring out and killing faerie animals. The hounds came back. Just... trust me.”
His mouth pops open, but before either can ask further questions, Mister Haskel is shouting a hello from outside the garden.
When I turn, Blain’s expression is unreadable, his eyes on mine.
There is something haunted in his cheeks.
I am not surprised after the other night and must wonder if he already stepped within the trees.
My hand goes into my pocket where I stashed his handkerchief this morning.
Midsummer should’ve been warning enough.
“ You two missed the dancing,” Mister Haskel says, his face stretching into a smile I’m unsure is real. “ I’ve been hoping to catch you. I have some business to discuss.”
Down the path behind them, I see Una hustling up, Niall trotting ahead, something shimmering in his hand I’m assuming is his own axe once again. I bite the insides of my cheeks.
My da’s eyes are stony cold, something warring in his expression, anger against the temptation to be polite out of curiosity. Instead, he glances at me. I put my hand in his, and his rough finger rubs against my littlest one. His touch presses Aidyn’s ring firmer against my skin.
“ You should go back down the path,” I say, turning to Blain. His eyes haven’t left mine. “ And don’t leave it. Go back to the city and stay there. Don’t go looking for your crate.”
His eyes narrow, and he doesn’t glance back when Niall—looking considerably more rested, the bruise on his face fading—comes to a stop a dozen paces behind, gaze flickering over us, trying to decide if it’s his place to intervene.
“ Niamh—” Mister Haskel begins, and I shoot him a look that has his lips pressing into a thin line.
Barely above a whisper, Blain says, “ You think because you go in and out of their lands so often and one of them comes to dance with you that you know best?”
“ No,” I say with enough honesty it surprises me. Stepping over, I pull his handkerchief out and push it into his chest. His hand jerks up to catch it. “ But I never meant them harm. You did.”
His jaw clenches, eyes widening ever so slightly. Mister Haskel has gone silent, the hand that was waving in my direction in a feeble attempt to get my attention falling still.
“ They are not like us,” Blain whispers.
“ You’re right. They would’ve killed you outright. I made a bargain on your behalf you didn’t deserve,” I tell him. “ Do not step into the woods again. They’ll know.”
“ They know you better than me.”
“ They do,” I agree, releasing the fabric into his grip. “ But they don’t have my name. They have yours.”
His lips part, and despite it all, I believe he knows precisely what I am saying and what I am trying to impart, one human to another on the edge of Faerie.
A long sharp whistle of a breath tugs in between his teeth, a mixture of anger and horror flickering across his face before settling on something intense but unknowable.
His mouth opens again, and then his fist drops the handkerchief to grasp at my arms. His expression does not look dangerous—he is too much a desperate child to look dangerous to me now.
Da seizes him by the front of his fine wrinkled shirt, dragging him up onto his toes, precisely how tall and broad he is in the shoulders becoming obvious. Blain releases me to scowl up into the face of a man he has no hope or dream of fighting.
“ I don’t know what you’ve done this time, but your hands will stay off my daughter. And you.” He glares at Mister Haskel, who has begun to give a weak protest. “ We have no business. Keep your child away from mine.”
From halfway behind a smirking and glowering Niall, Una has her hand over her mouth, trying not to laugh. My chest warms. I rub my father’s arm until he decides to drop Blain into the hay.
“ Get out,” he says, annoyance dripping from his tone as he brushes a hand in the older man’ s direction. “ Or I’ll let Niall over there do what he’s itching to do.”
Niall taps the flat head of the axe against his thigh, smile muscled into a serious expression even if the glint doesn’t leave his eyes. Da’s always liked Niall—I don’t doubt for a minute he’d send him Blain’s way, even if I asked him not to.
Slowly, Blain rises with his father’s hand under his elbow, eyes flickering toward the broad barn door behind us, at the trees rustling in the breeze.
They are not Faerie trees, but I’m sure they look it to him.
Mister Haskel gives him a tug, and Blain follows him out. Niall smiles pleasantly as they pass.
I rest my hands on my hips and hang my chin against my chest, letting out a long sigh, aware of my parents exchanging glances. Una trots over to hug them both while Niall strolls alongside, spinning the handle of his axe and looking pleased.
“ I didn’t follow half of that,” Mam admits.
I say, “ Una and Niall kissed at midsummer.”
“ Niamh! ” Una smacks me on the arm as if she were not the one kissing Niall in the middle of all the dancing.
I giggle while confusion, amusement, and mild disappointment flicker over my parents’ faces before settling on something close to affection.
As much as they’ve been nudging me into considering taking Niall as a husband, they can’t be unhappy that my two best friends have fallen in love with each other—not when they watched them grow up almost as children of their own.
“ How long have you known about that?” Da asks while Niall avoids eye contact, turns beet red, and smirks.
“ A while,” I admit.
“ Niamh,” he says with more warning in his tone.
“ Yes? ”
“ What was that he said about you dancing with a faerie?” He pauses. “ Where are those kittens?”
I rub my face, feeling Aidyn’s ring against my skin, then run my hands through my knotted hair until a few untangle. “ It’s going to take a bit of explaining. I’ll make breakfast. We can talk about it.” At Una ’s stare, I add, “ Maybe he’d like to meet you.”