“You know nothing about him,” I hiss.
“I know more than you do. You know nothing, period.” She flounces nearer to the West Wind. “I’d rather take my chances with him than with those”—she waves a hand toward the carcasses—“creatures.”
Grudgingly, I agree. But Zephyrus is a man whose danger lies in what he conceals, not what is evident. Harper does not know what lurks beneath his polished veneer. His company will lead to little good.
“I would be an excellent asset,” he states, striding a few paces away to lean against a tree, one ankle tossed over the other. “Do you know how to reach the Grotto?”
Mother Mabel gave me directions from the nymph-guarded entrance. Unfortunately, those instructions have been rendered useless.
At my fuming silence, his mouth stretches a touch wider. “I am familiar with the unsavory areas of Under. I have connections, debts to be called in that would get us out of a bind quickly. You would not be without protection.”
“What can you offer us? Pretty words?” Disdain drips readily from my tongue. “I am unimpressed.”
“I assure you, my talents extend beyond what I can do with my mouth.” His eyes darken, and my heart leaps for reasons unknown.
Lifting one hand, he flicks his fingers a few times, sending currents of air to stir our dresses, the fine strands of our hair. I watch a tendril of wind pluck a leaf from the highest branch of an oak tree, then tuck it behind my ear.
Satisfied, Zephyrus drops his arm. “They do not call me the West Wind for nothing.”
Harper stares in open-mouthed wonder. I touch the leaf with a quavering hand, questioning all that came before this moment. Zephyrus never gave any indication of harboring any great power, aside from the ability to irk me to no end. I feel foolish for having failedto figure it out sooner. Such power would be useful on our journey. An extra set of eyes couldn’t hurt either.
“What do you want in exchange for helping us?” I say, because Zephyrus’ help will not come free.
He appears to ponder the question, though based on how readily he answers, he likely already had a response prepared. “Consider this my debt repaid to you, Brielle. However, if it’s not too much to ask, when we reach the Grotto, I would like to go in with you.”
That ridiculous debt. But… fine. “Why can’t you enter yourself?” If he already knows its location, why go withusinto the Grotto?
“The Grotto is protected by the Stallion, and he only welcomes mortal women into his place of rest.”
“But you’re not a mortal woman,” Harper points out.
His mouth quirks. “No, my dear. I am not. The Stallion is blind. I can manipulate the air so your scent would mask my presence.”
Harper and I exchange a look. The quickest way to Under is through Zephyrus, but I don’t trust his motives. What, exactly, does he seek?
“What are you looking for? And be specific.”
He stares at me for a time. “A prize that would change my life. Surely you cannot blame a man for helping himself?”
“That depends. What is the prize?” Is it dangerous? Detrimental to our health?
“I’m afraid I cannot divulge that information.”
I consider him, the bright eyes and unsightly features. How convenient that he is unable to reveal his motive. But I will not knock on a door that refuses to open. I have learned that lesson too many times. There was no better teacher than my mother, who would not change no matter how many times I begged.
It is then I realize I have been staring too long at his mouth, for the West Wind’s attention kindles with sudden intrigue. I quickly look elsewhere. “How long will this take?” I demand. In Under, time stretches and bends, and I fear we will spend months underground without realizing it. “We must return to Thornbrook before the tithe.”
“I cannot guarantee a timeline, as you know. The more willingly you follow, however, the less time we waste.”
He offers little reassurance, and yet, what choice do we have?
I look to Harper, who observes the West Wind with thinly veiled hunger, as though he is something to covet. My stomach twists with an emotion I do not recognize. She would follow this immortal, deaf and blind, into danger, yet she does not even thank me for saving her life?
“Harper,” I say, trying to reclaim her attention. Though her mouth pinches in distaste, she turns to me. “I really think we should reconsider.”
“The decision has been made, Brielle. If you want to stay behind, that’s your choice.”
“Perhaps,” Zephyrus counters with a raised brow at my traveling companion, “but I do want to take Brielle’s opinion into consideration.”
