The love of shiny things. The fierce confidence. The preening. The bright keen intelligence.
“I knew it,” I say with a warm smile.
Mabon’s shoulders relax and he returns my smile. As he starts putting his clothes back on, a thought strikes me.
“Why don’t you fly back to London? I’m guessing the magic it takes to shift is undetectable?”
He wouldn’t have risked it otherwise. He is far too canny to take unnecessary risks.
Mabon zips up his black hoodie. “The native birds aren’t any more keen about invaders than humans are. Or cows.”
He turns his back to me as he picks up his rucksack. “And it would mean leaving you behind.”
Did he really just say that last part? Or am I hearing things? Hearing exactly what I want to hear? Because the thought of him flying off and leaving me is awful. Even though I should want nothing more than his safety.
He gives me an innocent, guileless look as he waits for me. I smile and haul myself to my feet. I’m still smiling as I follow him.
I think I would follow him anywhere. To the ends of the world. Anywhere. Just as long as he allows me to.
Chapter thirty-seven
This is bliss. I don’t think I have ever been so happy. It is completely irrational, so I guess I’m irrational now. And I’m completely fine with that.
It’s nighttime. The motorway is still roaring in the distance. It’s winter. My life is in danger. But Mabon is sitting on my lap and we have a roaring campfire. Mabon wasn’t happy about the idea of a fire, and he walked around all the nearby trees and apologised to them before allowing me to light it. But he is enjoying the warmth now. And he devoured the baked beans that I heated up.
The excuse for sitting on my lap is that it is purely for warmth. And so his princely ass doesn’t need to sit on a log. That’s just fine by me. Any excuse to hold him works in my favour too.
Mabon is in my arms and the fire is charming, but our surroundings are less than illustrious. There is litter strewn around our camping spot, and it’s not the prettiest place. But it is far better than a Resistance prison cell.
So, taking everything into consideration, I don’t believe I’m being completely crazy for feeling happy.
My musing, rambling thoughts are scattered by a fox trotting up to our fire. The light glows in its red eyes.
Mabon shrieks, pulls on his hood as if trying to hide in it.
“No! No! No! Shoo! Shoo!”
I’m so confused. I thought he liked foxes? He was talking about mice with one the other day? Is this fox rabid and about to attack us? Do I need to find a weapon?
I blink as the fox turns into a naked fey man with long red hair. The hairs on the back of my neck rise. I’m never ever going to get used to the sight of people shapeshifting, it is far too uncanny.
Wait a minute, is that Mabon’s brother, Tristan? Oh thank the lord, it is. That’s much better news than a random fey turning up. Or even worse, one of Mabon’s enemies.
“No!” wails Mabon. “No helping! I will not be beholden to you!”
Okay. I guess Mabon is not happy to see his brother. For reasons that are baffling to me. Surely receiving help is good? Unless, for the fey with their culture of deals and complex rules, it is more trouble than it is worth. It’s a shame Mabon’s brother can’t help us, but I trust Mabon has good reasons to refuse.
Tristan holds up his hands in surrender. “As you wish.”
Mabon squirms in my lap and pulls his hood down even lower. It must be covering his eyes by now.
“Why are you here?” he whines in clear displeasure.
Tristan settles comfortably on a log, with as little shyness about his nudity as Mabon has. I carefully avert my eyes. He came here as a fox, so it’s not as if he could have carried clothes with him. And we don’t have any spares, so I’m just going to have to deal with the nudity.
“Jamie made me look for you. He is all agitated about you being gone.”
Anger spikes within me, sudden and insistent. “It’s called being worried about someone you care about.”
