Page 53 of Twisting Twilight (Homesteader Hearth Witch #9)

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

“Hold your breath, Niece,” was my only warning before the earth swallowed us whole.

There was a moment of darkness and the overpowering smell of soil and then we were back in the fresh air. And in the direct path of the bolting Manann mares.

The Green Mother released me just as a green shimmer emanated from her skin. With her hands held in a supplicating manner, she called in a resonant voice, “ Sguir dheth. ”

The occupants of the carriage yelled as the mares slid to an abrupt halt. Grass and yellow flowers and clumps of dirt flew into the air as their hooves bit deep into the meadow. Enbarra was pacified for only a moment before she began pawing and trumpeting her displeasure.

The high lady inclined her head. “I will gladly make a fae bargain that Rhydian will not harm you or your herd.”

As the fae and mare reached a truce, I hurried to the carriage to join my friends.

A glimpse through one of the windows revealed a tangle of limbs and some shoving as my friends tried to right themselves after the abrupt halt.

Kian was worried about some nonsense about Thistle’s claws (which were sheathed, she insisted), and Fiachna and Sawyer were in a hissing match over some stomped tails.

Lori, Shari, and Daphne were all tied up in each other’s gowns, and Flora was smothered beneath it all like a mouse under a collapsed circus tent.

It was rather crowded in there, and now we had additional passengers to transport.

Warmth bloomed from my palms as magic flowed from my fingers to the carriage.

Opalescent light vined around the body, the wheels, the door, seeped into the living wood itself.

The blond pumpkin-shaped carriage elongated into a watermelon, complete with species-specific foliage ornamentation.

My friends cried out in relief as the interior expanded to accommodate three rows of benches.

They were even long enough to enable those who wanted to lie down and nap to do so, which I most certainly did.

But first things first.

I opened the new watermelon door with a grin and greeted, “Hi.”

That one word sparked a cacophony of conversation, all of us clustering close and talking over each other and maintaining at least six discussions simultaneously.

“Kian, here’s a muirdris scale and the Jewel of the Sea diadem. You were right about the sea dragons.”

“I knew it!”

“I want to know about Shari’s liquid fire. She’s been holding out on us!”

“You don’t have to be a primal witch to cast fireball. And nobody suspects the quiet ones.”

“Gimme your glasses, Quills. I’ll fix those up.”

“ Excellent use of the pokeweed juice, dear.”

“Does anyone have any water? I didn’t drink the tea, for obvious reasons.”

“What news of The Happy Hound? Ruben?”

“Misty! Did you get the mirror?”

“I am the cider witch, what do you think?”

“Was I right about the mortal artifact too? Fiachna, my notebook!”

We all quieted when the carriage door opened and in stepped the high lady of the Green Court.

“Don’t pause on my account.” She took a seat and smoothed out her gown before the carriage started moving again.

“I’m sure I’ll catch on. Though, at some point, I would very much like to know how you convinced the sacred mares of Elfame to humble themselves as temporary cart stags.

Enbarra claims we’ll reach the River Neave by daybreak?—”

Daphne, Shari, Flora, and I all let out a collective gasp. Daybreak?

“We’ll never make it back to the portal in time,” Sawyer said aloud, ears lowering in dismay. “It took us seven days to get this far, then Misty lost a day in the Twilight Court, and even if they run at full speed…”

The carriage fell silent, and I avoided looking at anyone while I gnawed on the lower corner of my lip in a desperate attempt to think of a solution.

I could maybe get us there in time with a tailwind, but that amount of magic sustained for that long would drain me dry.

No reserves for Redbud, which was out of the question.

“Misty’ll have to continue on her own,” Daphne said firmly. “The rest of us will follow as we’re able.”

“No! I’m not leaving you behind.”

“You might not have a choice, dear. If you fail to return in time, you forfeit Marten. Y-you could always come back for us.”

That was a long shot and we all knew it.

Callan would have no incentive to treat my friends fairly while I settled my business in Redbud.

They could remain fugitives in the Seam with their amulets, but for how long?

And the portal was guarded day and night by high fae who would now have orders to kill us.

Probably. Perhaps they could find refuge in the Green Court?

Flora slammed her fist into her palm. “There has to be a way for all of us. We just got back together—mostly—and as awesome as I am, if Misty leaves, I can’t protect the lot of us from being thrown into the high lord’s dungeon.

Which is exactly where he’ll put us for that little stunt with the Twilight Court. ”

“He can try,” Thistle said with a convenient yawn that revealed her elongated fangs.

“Which high lord is this?” the Green Mother inquired.

“Callan,” Flora answered, adding quickly, “my lady.” If saying his name drew his attention, well, the deed he’d been dead set against us from doing was already done.

“I see. Yes, I suppose he more than any sovereign would be more sensitive to events concerning Blighted land.” Her brown gaze flicked to me. “You risk far more than imprisonment at his hand, Niece.”

“Then I would ask a favor of you, my lady.” Though she called me “Niece” and had slung the term “heir” around, I didn’t believe for a second I had the right to call her my aunt. “Would you ask Rhydian if he would be willing to transport us?”

She blinked twice at me. “You wish… to ride a red draig?”

She said that as if she’d traveled all the way here from the Green Court on foot. Maybe she had?

I wet my lips. “If he would be willing, then, yes. And he would be carrying the carriage, specifically, with all of us in it. He could hold it in his claws, or, um, I could grow a harness to strap it to his back.”

“Like a saddle.”

The flatness of her tone made me wince. “More like a litter. Like the kind on top of elephants?”

“What is an elephant?” Kian asked.

Everyone shushed him.

“This is not a favor of me you would be asking, but of Rhydian himself,” the high lady said. “You will need to speak with him directly. Are you even versed in the proper etiquette?”

I shook my head.

“I thought not, and there is no time to teach you. My favor to you will be that I will vouch for you and any offense you will inevitably give. You will survive your encounter.”

Well that was something.

“I don’t suppose you have a gift for him? And nothing from that pouch on your belt. He will want something personal.”

Flora snapped her fingers. “Packs on the floor. Now!”

From the pitiful pile of supplies left, we extracted the silver spoon and the bar of chocolate. It wasn’t much, but the silver could be imbued with magic and I didn’t have to explain to decadence of chocolate. Personal, personal, I muttered to myself.

“What about the last tourmaline?” Sawyer suggested. “Dragons are greedy and there’s a lot of magic stored away in there.”

It certainly would be personal and a sacrifice, which should earn me double consideration points. “Good idea, kitty.”

He licked his paw. “I’m a cat. Good ideas are the only ones I have.”

I gathered up the silver spoon and the chocolate and gave the Green Mother a nod. Saying nothing as to the quality of my gifts, the high lady called for a halt.

Upon exiting the carriage, she led me to the adjacent hill.

Night had truly fallen on Elfame, and full darkness shrouded a land untainted by candle flame or fluorescent bulb.

The stars were wildly bright, dimmed only by two of the three moons.

The pale blush of the third moon still tinged the horizon.

As we walked—I trudged while the Green Mother glided—the trefoil flowers swayed in a chill breeze reminiscent more of autumn than winter. But our breath still fogged in the air and numbed the tip of my nose. Soon, the air grew warm again.

Radiant heat from a camouflaged creature.

“Rhydian, we would speak with you,” the Green Mother called out. “Unveil yourself and listen to this one. She has brought you gifts.”

There was a ripple in the air, a distortion of light and shadow, and the red draig stood before us.

It took all my willpower not to soil my underwear or die of fright or both.

The luachra had been bad enough, but this beast?

It could quite literally swallow me whole.

The sheer magnitude of Rhydian’s presence had its own gravity.

I felt pulled in his direction—pulled right towards those beautiful red scales and a maw full of yellowish teeth as long and thick around as the pillars that supported the front balcony at Hawthorne Manor.

Rhydian lowered his massive head until his giant yellow eye hovered in front of me. Like his scales, there was variance in its coloration. Gold, copper, saffron—even some electric green rimming the slitted pupil.

“Speak,” the dragon commanded.

I couldn’t—at least not after my bones stopped rattling in my body from the concussive blast of that one word.

Why had I thought this was a good idea? Who willingly talked to dragons?

I should be making like a mole and burrowing deep underground where that scrutinizing gaze and that fiery breath could never find me.

“S-sir,” I finally forced out. Was that the proper address for a dragon?

If it wasn’t, perhaps a bow would smooth things over?

My back muscles screamed as I doubled over as low as I could get.

With the blood rushing to my head, my next words came out rushed and raspy.

“May I first offer you these gifts before, before?—”

“Stand up before you pass out.”