Page 10 of Twisting Twilight (Homesteader Hearth Witch #9)
He and the two fae females alerted at the same time, three heads snapping to the east in eerie unison. I suddenly realized Laoise and Orla were nervous, maybe even anxious. They weren’t fidgeting per se, but something about them had heightened the tension within the crossroads clearing.
Activating my “sparkle vision” again, I scanned the forest and discovered three of the colorful threads were twinkling madly now. A moment later, I spied four travelers approaching. One high fae, two humans, and one garden gnome.
“You’re late,” Laoise grumbled as Agnes appeared with the Crafting Circle ladies in tow. Like Laoise and Orla’s rings, her blue cabochon muted to a faint glow as if a sleepy firefly were trapped inside the jewel.
Daphne held Flora against her hip like a toddler and led Shari by the sleeve.
All three had been subjected to a new wardrobe—the women wore gowns of pale blue and the gnome had been stuffed into what looked like the clothes of a fae child’s favorite doll.
Like Cody, she had kept hold of her favorite hat.
The quiet crafter seemed obsessed with plucking the petals of a plate-sized chrysanthemum out one by one.
Daphne looked so bone-deep relieved to see me I could only imagine the weight she’d been forced to carry, both mentally and physically.
Aside from Flora, she also bore Faebane on her hip.
The crystals of the wretched iron rapier twinkled prettily with every step.
“I’m here before my lady is, aren’t I?” the blonde attendant fired back at Laoise. “And you didn’t have the additional chore of raiding the guard tower, did you?”
“ We don’t have lovers in the guard barracks,” Orla said. “And I had to prep and hide the packs, so quit whining.”
“And I had to sneak that one out of the inner court without being seen.” Laoise indicated us with an elegant sweep of her hand. “Truly the most risky of our tasks. And she nearly got us caught by the red stags.”
“Well I had to smear my charge’s nose with butterbur balm to stop her incessant sneezing and had stop to bind her equally incessant mouth shut with mallow root,” Agnes whispered hotly.
Thistle thorns, where were the courteous manners of the Seelie fae of legend? It was all hierarchy, competition, and self-righteous martyrdom with these fae, wasn’t it? Even when they were supposed to be friends. I was glad my friends were the encouraging sorts. And speaking of…
Flora clawed at the sticky white substance smeared over her mouth with glowing green fingers, attempting to use magic to rid herself of the goo when her fingernails failed. The mallow root was either impervious to her magic or just that strong.
Daphne all too willingly sloughed her into my arms to deal with, and before I could help her, Flora incinerated the marshmallow glue from her lips.
Flora gasped, then: “Y?—”
I slapped a hand over her mouth—her whole head, actually—to silence her.
Laoise’s patience was already hanging by a thread and I’d pushed her enough with my own little outbursts.
She’d do something worse to Flora than smear her with mallow root paste if she compromised the task Shannon had given her.
The garden gnome sneezed, her body halving and slamming into my chest.
“Gross,” I muttered. Crouching down, I smeared the gunk from my hand onto the grass. “No offense, Honey.”
“Sorry,” she sniffled miserably.
“Here.” Agnes thrust the jar of balm at us.
Flora slapped a marble-sized ball of balm against her nose, plugging up both nostrils. With a relieved sigh, she wedged the jar down the front of her dress. Then: “Does this make me look fat?”
“Of course not, dear,” Daphne said.
“You look like the host of alien spawn,” Shari whispered.
“Shhh!” Laoise hissed.
“Where is my lady?” Agnes wondered aloud after another anxiety-riddled minute.
Laoise rubbed her thumb over her ring as if coaxing the glow to brighten. It didn’t. “My lady’s time is her own. She’ll be here.”
“But if the high lord should catch us?—”
“He won’t catch us if you keep your nerve,” Orla said, sweeping a lock of blonde hair behind Agnes’s cheek before pinching her cheeks and forcing her to look the taller fae in the eye. “And if you keep his name and title out of your mouth. We serve the high lady, not him. Have a little faith.”
Agnes jerked her chin away and straightened her long sunshine-colored hair. “I have faith,” she muttered.
“I know you do,” Shannon said, appearing so suddenly Emmett choked on a yawn. Right behind her were her faithful fairy hounds. “But perhaps you all can work on your patience?” the high lady asked. “Slipping away from my lord’s bedchamber unnoticed is a challenging feat indeed.”
Cody slapped Emmett on the back to dislodge the phlegm then yanked him up by his rope belt to stand respectfully in front of the beautiful fae.
The high lady had shed her masquerade ballgown for a nondescript dress of dark fabric.
The diamond between her brow, the silver paint, the jewels studding her fingernails, they were all gone.
Despite her modest presentation, she was as stunning as ever.
True goddess of the hunt vibes with a sensible dress and the intricate longbow in her hand and a quiver of arrows slung from her belt.
“We’re all accounted for, I see,” she continued. “Excellent.” She turned luminous, deep blue eyes at me, her cheeks dimpling as she smiled wide. “Let’s continue with your escape, shall we?”
Escape?
I returned the smile. Ha-cha for Plan E!