Page 13 of Twisting Twilight (Homesteader Hearth Witch #9)

“You will appear as yourselves to whoever else wears an amulet,” the high lady said, reaching for patience. “So long as you wear these within the Court of Beasts, you will appear as fae. The beasts of the forest that obey my husband will ignore you.”

“And what about the ones who don’t?” Cody sputtered.

“She’s talking about mallaithe, isn’t she?” Shari shivered.

“Your witch will protect you, since she had no trouble wielding her power in dire situations,” Shannon said, flicking her gaze at me. “Or you’ll have ample opportunity to relish the joys of running before you’re eaten, I suppose.”

“I might be pint-sized, but I can pack a punch when I need too,” Flora said tartly. “ We will protect the others, thank you very much.”

“And we’re supposed to run?” Daphne tried to keep the skepticism out of her voice and failed. “In these dresses?”

The elegant older woman wasn’t unused to hiking her skirt above the knee and sprinting if the occasion called for it, but those skirts were lightweight linen or supple buckskin and always cut above the ankle to facilitate movement.

Honestly, men of the 1800s would’ve lost their minds completely at her ankles’ fine-boned and shapely appearance.

At present, Daphne and Shari both wore heavy woolen gowns that were made to fit fae at least two feet taller.

Even with the hems tucked up into their belts like mine, the bulky fabric would get caught in their legs and slow them down.

“I’m not running anywhere on these stubbies.” Flora slapped her thighs. “That’s why we have this .” She pointed at Faebane dangling from Daphne’s hip.

“ That should be sheathed,” Shannon replied sharply, “and hidden. Naked swords will make you a target of any idiotic juvenile fae wishing to test their mettle in a duel. Swords of faebane will make you a threat that needs destroyed.”

Daphne froze as if Faebane had turned into testy cottonmouth just itching for an excuse to sink its fangs into her hip. “Well I certainly can’t hide a sword in this dress with its hem up by my knees. Gentlemen?”

Emmett and Cody looked down at their cowled friar frocks.

“Sure, they want equal rights until it’s time to carry a death sword,” the old carpenter muttered.

Emmett whacked him in the arm. “You’ve got plenty of space under that robe, you old toad. It’s our duty as gentlemen to be gentlemanly. Now take the sword!”

Cody swatted Emmett’s grasping hands away before the antiques dealer could grab him and make him submit. “What if it cuts something off? I may be seventy-four but I’ve still got prospects!”

“You don’t need to carry it down there. Miss will make you a sling so you can carry it on your back, won’t you, miss?” In a surprisingly quick move, Emmett caught his runaway friend and dragged him back to his gentlemanly responsibilities.

“Of course,” I agreed, “but?—”

Whatever had given Emmett the boost in energy had worked its same magic on Cody, and the twiggy old man was making a solid effort at wiggling away.

“So it can bounce against my back and sever my spine? I don’t think so.

What am I supposed to do? Clamp it between my cheeks? They’re flatter than flapjacks!”

“It’s true,” Shari agreed with a nod.

“Here.” I held out my hand to Daphne. “It’s my responsibility.

And I’m the only one with a cloak, anyway.

I’ll hide it under there.” While the old men had been squabbling, I’d removed a branch from a nearby tree and grown a plain scabbard to carry the sword.

The moment the faebane touched the living wood, it turned as black as the iron of the blade.

The high lady shuddered. “You should not have done that.”

I quickly swept my cloak closed, hiding the deadly sword from sight. “Done what?” How else was I supposed to sheath the sword?

She didn’t get a chance to explain, for Daphne was already asking, “You said the amulets will keep us concealed while we’re in the Court of Beasts, my lady. What happens if we leave?”

“ When you leave, as the Twilight Court is beyond these borders, the illusion will fade.” Shannon cocked an eyebrow at me. “Unless you’re gifted with illusion magic as well as healing and the other elements?”

“I am,” I mumbled, self-conscious that I might sound like a braggart. Though with my current finesse complications, I would hardly use the word “gifted” to describe my ability.

The high lady hadn’t expected to be surprised, and since she was, the serene expression she normally wore was wiped completely from her face.

“I’m not really good at it,” I added quickly. My cloch na wight-turned-plum had only been a success because if it hadn’t, the ruse would’ve been up and my friends and family would’ve been imperiled more than they already were. Again, the “must succeed or everyone dies” trope.

By the Green Mother, I needed a vacation. One filled with books and endless bottles of Riesling and little snacks and absolutely no perilous situations.

“You’re not really good at illusion magic yet .” Daphne’s addendum was buoyant with encouragement.

“Well, should you get good at it ,” Shannon replied skeptically, “you’ll be able to keep the illusion going through the Court of Tides.

But you shouldn’t have to, because you’ll be traveling off the trade routes and roads, guided by— The tides drown me, where is that male? ” she snapped at no one in particular.

There was no answer. The high lady glared into the gloom as if she could cow it into expelling the one she sought.

When the forest did not bow to her request, Shari approached the high lady. “Years ago, you were the one who saved me.” Classic, straightforward Shari. “Why?”

Shannon turned away from the trees. “I came to your realm to hunt and discovered my husband’s brother nowhere to be found, as usual, and settled for second best: Unseelie cultists.

The slaughter was not nearly as satisfying, but it did save an innocent.

” She trailed a fingernail down Shari’s cheek.

Hooking her finger under Shari’s chin, she lifted the quiet crafter’s face to gaze into her brown eyes.

“Perhaps I shouldn’t have and spared you the turmoil that haunts you now. ”

Daphne released an affronted noise and made to grab her ward, but Shari had already jerked her chin loose and stepped back. She allowed Daphne to cuddle her close and rub her back in long, soothing strokes. Flora looked ready to fling herself at the high lady, but I shook my head.

Despite sharing some physical traits and mannerisms, the fae weren’t like us.

Shannon probably thought she was being kind.

In her eyes, Shari was a wounded animal in need of a merciful dispatch, not a resilient woman who had fought for and built a life each and every day after she’d come stumbling out of those woods.

Thistle thorns, we don’t have her meds , I realized. I had no idea if she’d still been taking them as a porcupine, but she was a woman again. A troubled woman in a land of monsters.

“We’ll have to keep an eye on her,” I told Sawyer.

“Of course. Ame will kill me if anything happened to her.”

“Spread the word quietly to the others as you’re able.”

“I-I’m here!” a distinctly masculine voice sounded from the trees.

Finally.

A second later, a male high fae stumbled onto the outcropping. Behind him, Orla and Agnes picked twigs and leaves from their hair as Laoise wiped her hands clean of whatever they had been defiled with after shoving him forward.

The broad-shouldered male in the maroon overcoat with the opossum friend I’d seen at the masquerade caught his balance before he could pitch over the outcropping.

The poor fae looked like he’d been dragged straight from the winter solstice party—his black hair was still frosted with gold and a gilded mask resembling raven wings hugged the upper half of his face.

“Present, my lady,” he said with a bow. “As requested.”

“At last.” The high lady’s voice dripped with reproach.

Wincing, he hunched like he was preparing for a physical strike, and I remembered how the elder fae had cuffed him on the head at the masquerade.

“I trust you know your way from here?” she asked him without preamble.

“You’re not giving us a map?” Flora demanded. She sneezed before she could add an honorific, if she’d been planning on using one, that is.

“You are temporary allies and I will give you no such thing that would aid an invasion of iron.” She returned her expectant gaze at the male and lifted a hand for him to proceed.

The male swallowed nervously, and after another shaky bow, he faced the sky.

His tongue darted across his lips as he held out his hand against the sky, measuring the placement of the dimming stars.

Then he licked a finger and tested the direction of the breeze.

Finally he produced a sextant from his pocket and lined it up with the left outermost moon and the horizon.

“We’re on the east side of the Summerland Prairies,” he answered, lowering the sextant. His voice was deep, complementary to his large size, yet surprisingly unsure of itself. “A-a region known locally as Where the Wind Whispers, I believe.”

Laoise rolled her eyes. “Any one of us could’ve told you that.”

“And?” Shannon prompted.

“And we head north to the Fire Grove.” He pointed across the pasture to the crenelated horizon that represented the forest. His confidence grew when he wasn’t interrupted. “Then we turn north by northwest inland to avoid the Path of Gulls until the ferry crossing at?—”

“Very good.”

The male choked off his rhetoric when the high lady turned her attention back to me.

“You have nine days, Misty Fields, and a long way to go and return,” Shannon said gravely.

“My ladies will keep silent and I will take care of my husband, but do not make it harder on me, and thus yourselves. Remember what I said about the abundance of magic wielders? Don’t use your magic unless you must, and then, nothing as powerful as your display at the party or you’re sure to be noticed.

More than fae take notice of magic. Stay off the roads.

Do not use your real names. Do not tell anyone what you seek, nor where you are heading.

“When my husband discovers your absence, as he surely will, at least he will not have clues to your whereabouts, only your destination. Then he will have to negotiate with the Court of Tides to send a force into their territory or risk their wrath pursuing you without permission. Either choice will delay him, but not by much.”

“If I may, my lady.” Daphne’s interjection was laced with gentle apology. “If time is so critical, why are we traveling on foot? Why not use horses?”

Orla and Agnes gasped, and Laoise released a derisive laugh. Momentarily shocked speechless, the high lady’s round blue eyes only blinked.

Shannon regained her composure quickly. “Horses? You ask to use one of Eru’s most sacred creatures as a beast of burden ?”

“She thinks a horse is as lowly as a red stag,” Laoise sneered.

The high lady held up her hand for silence, her gaze intent on Daphne for an explanation.

The elegant matron refused to be cowed and answered in the same gentle voice, “I know they are sacred to the fairies, but they are also friends to us humans. Many ride them in our world to great enjoyment, on either side.”

Laoise snorted. “Talk to many horses, do you?”

“Yes.”

The bold statement shut the fae attendant up momentarily, but before she could call Daphne a liar, Shannon laid a hand on her friend’s arm. “No beast is reliable here to follow your commands above their master’s. You will travel on foot with your guide.”

Shannon flicked her chin at the forest, which was decidedly less dark and gloomy with the dawn that had now arrived. Soundless as wraiths, her ladies moved into the lingering shadows towards the castle seat of the Court of Beasts.

“This place will change you, Misty Fields. For good or for ill, there is no escaping its effects. May the Healer, the Protector, and the Smith watch over you,” the high lady whispered, and followed them into the trees.