“That’s nice of you.” Liah’s voice dripped with sarcasm. “What do you want in return?”
“Nothing.”
“Blake, you may be human, but you have the mind of a fae. What boon do you seek from me?”
“For you to join us in the fight against Daigh, of course, but you’re kind of doing that already?—”
“Do your witch friends know a fae is about to join their fight?” Liah asked.
“Who cares? Once they see what you can do?—”
“So that’s a no, then.” Liah released my throat to fold her arms across her chest. As I gasped for air I caught sight of her stump, the skin already healed over with fae magic. My heart squirmed. I’d done that.
“Let me get this straight. You want me to jump with you into a black void – even though last time I did that I lost my hand – and then hide in the forest like some common outlaw? How is that improving my situation?”
I made a weak gesture at the size of her dark prison. “The forest on the other side is a lot bigger.”
She sighed. “Fine.”
“Really?”
Liah grinned. “They’re going to put iron shards under my toenails tomorrow. Besides, I have always wanted to see the human realm. I bet it’s beautiful.”
I thought of the pub and the curry shop and the weird metal shells calledcarshumans drove around in. “It’s…interesting.”
“So how do we do this?”
“I call up the void again with one of my nightmares. Are any of your Seelie fae nearby?” I asked. “I don’t know how many fae we can have in the human realm, but we could try to take a couple with us.”
“Bugger them with a bloated mushroom,” she spat. “They’re useless. Most of them are dead or joined with Daigh. I presume the others have iron shards up their backsides by now.”
I grinned. Liah was fae, through and through. I grabbed her good arm above the elbow and closed my eyes, searching my mind for another nightmare. It didn’t take long to find one.
Her talk of metal shards reminded me of a time when Daigh pinned my hand to a table with metal pins through the webs between my fingers so I’d pay attention to a lecture he was giving on compulsion magic. Daigh couldn’t even touch the pins himself, so he had his sprites conduct the torture, even though exposure to metal burned their skin. The memory of the pain flared in my body as I slipped myself back into the mind of nine-year-old Blake, frantically trying not to cry out while searing pain travelled up his arm.
The floor beneath me gave way. I pulled Liah against me, wrapping my body around hers, keeping her close. We tumbled through space and slammed into something hard. My eyes flew open, and I stared up at the stars.
The earth-bound stars.
I was back.
“Liah?” I unwrapped my arms and leaned back, checking her body for injuries or more missing parts. Everything looked intact, even her swinging blonde braids. Her eyes fluttered open, and she took in the meadow and the sidhe and the glittering sky with a sharp intake of breath.
“I’m fine…” she croaked. “There’s just a lot to take in.”
“Come look at the wood.” I helped her to her feet and led her up the hill and into the wood that stretched across the neighbouring property. “Don’t go up the slope, because that’s Briarwood and the wards will throw you back. But you can hide in here while I figure out what to do next.”
“It’s beautiful,” she whispered, her eyes widening as she took in the towering trees, the cool moonlight peering down through the leaves, and the myriad scurryings of nocturnal animals.
“You’ll like it here.” I kissed her forehead the way I used to do when we were young. “Don’t leave the wood. We can’t risk anyone seeing you. I’ll bring you some human food as soon as I can. Wait until you try a curry. You’re going to goinsane.”
“Okay.” Liah sank down against a mossy tree, her good hand behind her head, her stump resting on her thigh. “Thanks, Blake.”
Don’t thank me. I’m a bastard. I’m sorry, Liah. I never meant for you to lose your arm. I’m sorry.
I shrugged. “Yeah, well.”
I took off in a jog before she could say anything else that made my chest constrict. As it was I struggled to breathe through my guilt. Where had that come from? I’d never felt guilty before in my miserable life. Guilt was a human emotion.
