“Jell-O,” Maeve whispered as she wrapped her arms around me and hefted me up again. “It’s pronounced ‘Jell-O.’”
I let out a laugh that made my ribs ache. “Don’t make me laugh, woman. I think I’ve just pushed a rib through my spleen.”
“Shite, Flynn.” That was Rowan. He skidded back into the kitchen. I could feel his hand on my face. “I found the others. They were down in the meadow, fending off a fae attack of their own. What happened? Who did this to you?”
“Blake,” I whispered. That was all the description I was capable of. My eyes fluttered shut and much as I tried to pry them open, they were definitely stuck that way.
“Who’s Blake?”
Mother Mary.Maeve was leaning over me. I could get a glimpse down her shirt if only my eyes would work.
What the hell did Blakedoto me?
“Apparently he’s a new Unseelie prince,” Maeve said matter-of-factly. “We were by the sidhe meadow behind the castle. These two Seelie fae were stealing a baby, and Flynn tried to stop them. Blake showed up and he grabbed Flynn’s head and kind of shook him and there was this smell like candy apples and he didthatto Flynn’s face.”
“My precious face,” I moaned.
“Hold on.” Rowan clattered around the kitchen, slamming glass bottles and containers down on the butcher’s block. “Keep him still.”
More footsteps clattered into the room. “What did Flynn do now?” Corbin yelled.
Figures he’d assume this disaster was my fault.
Usually, disastersweremy fault. But still.
“Hewastrying to save an innocent child from the fae and they did this to him.” Maeve shot back. “And if you want to do something useful instead of standing there like an idiot, you’ll come here and help me hold him.”
I cheered inwardly. Maeve had spunk. No one talked to Corbin like that. But sure enough, his hands slid around my middle, and his thick chest replaced Maeve’s busty one. Not nearly as pleasant, but definitely sturdier.
“Hold on, mate.” Corbin whispered in my ear. “We’ll put you right.”
Rowan was crushing something with his mortar and pestle. “This isn’t any fae magic I’ve seen before,” he whispered. “ It looks like a spirit attack.”
“That’s what I’m seeing,” Arthur said. He leaned close and I could smell his meady breath on my face. “My mother described a spirit attack in her diary, and she said it left marks like these.”
“But the fae don’t have spirit magic. They can’t manipulate the elements the way we can,” Corbin said. “It doesn’t make any sense.”
“Unless this new surge of power they’ve got has somehow given them that ability,” Arthur said. “You’re the historian, Corbin. Have you ever read anything about this?”
“Not that I can remember, but I’ll hit the books again today and?—”
“Aragorn’s beard is tickling me,” I croaked out.
“Guys, give him some space.” Maeve’s voice cut through like birdsong over a nest of wasps. Just her presence calmed the pounding in my head. Instead of feeling as though I’d been knocked about the a giant sledgehammer, with Maeve’s hand on my shoulder, the sledgehammer only felt medium-sized.
“Hold still,” Rowan swiped something wet and gritty across my cheeks. “This may sting a little.”
“Bah, you English can’t handle pain. My superior Irish blood has withstood decades of bloody oppression. I can handle a little sting—” Okay, maybe that wasn’t alittlesting. Maybe it was a fucking huge sting. Maybe it felt like my face was being eaten by acid.
Blinding pain seared across my vision. I gritted my teeth.
“That’s one way to shut him up,” Corbin smirked.Bastard.
My hands flailed to hold something. Maeve slipped her fingers in mine, and the warmth of her skin radiated through my arm, reaching right up through my neck and into my face, rolling over the fire in my skin and taking away some of the heat. She squeezed my fingers and I squeezed hers back.
“I hope this works.” Rowan said, his voice worried.
“You how what works? What the fecking hell have you done to me?” I managed to choke out.
