“We don’t usually eat curry for breakfast,” Rowan said, passing through the hallway with an armload of garments.
“I’ve already eaten breakfast. This is elevenses,” I answered. “I learned that term from the movie last night.”
Rowan laughed. “I’m doing laundry. Do you have anything to add to my load?”
His words were gibberish to me. After explaining what he was talking about in a painfully slow, quiet way, Rowan showed me how to use the machine that washed garments. More human magic. In the fae realm, we had court servants who washed our clothes for us in the river that ran along the valley. The machine was superior in every way. Rowan said if the machine didn’t work I could kick it in frustration, which was exactly how we used to treat the court servants.
The doorbell signalled the arrival of my curries. When I got to the door and took possession of my feast, the delivery man held his hand out and fixed me with this weird knowing stare.
“That’ll be forty-two pounds.”
“Am I supposed to lick his palm or something?” I asked Rowan as he walked past on his way to the kitchen.
Rowan rushed over and dug some screwed-up bits of parchment from his pocket. He shoved them in the man’s hand. “You need to learn about money, Blake. People don’t just make curries for each other out of the kindness of their hearts. You have to pay the man for his work.”
“But you are an earth witch and he’s a mere mortal. Surely he quakes at your very presence?”
Rowan sighed. “I’msureCorbin already explained this. No one knows we’re witches and we have to keep it that way. Humans tend to get very burny and stakey when they find out witches are real.”
“Humans are so ungrateful.” I slammed the door in the man’s face and carried my curry down to the kitchen.
“Tell me about it.” Rowan fell in step beside me, shoving a single piece of his parchment back into his pocket.
The whole thing seemed ridiculous. Fae often spoke of the glittering treasures and metal riches humans hoarded like the dragons of lore. But how could these containers of delicious-smelling food possibly be exchanged for a few bits of printed paper? Had Rowan somehow tricked the guy into thinking he’d been given something of actual value? But no, that kind of compulsion could only be done by the fae.
I shoved four of the containers into the fridge for later. Rowan hovered in the doorway of the kitchen, so I couldn’t sneak them out to Liah in secret. That was fine. I just had to do what I did best – tell a lie with such confidence no one suspected it wasn’t the truth. I grabbed some utensils from the drawer.“I’m going to go eat in the orchard,” I said, hoisting up the bag. “Civilization is cool and all, but having these walls everywhere is starting to remind me of the borders of the fae realm.”
“You want company? I could do with a walk.”
Absolutely not.
“Not this time. I need to clear my head, do a little fae meditation, that sort of thing.”
Rowan looked at me oddly. “Fine. I’ll see you later?”
“I haven’t got anywhere else to be.”
I raced across the garden, ducking around the topiary maze to avoid being seen by Arthur, who was prancing across the lawn, swinging his sword at an invisible foe. His technique was crude compared to the grace and finesse of fae swordcraft, but he was certainly a brutal killing machine. I hoped he was prepared for just how much blood he’d have to spill before this was all over.
I passed through the orchard and opened a wooden gate into the small wood. Rowan had explained that this wood was once part of the large Crookshollow Forest that bordered the shire on two sides, but the land next door had been cleared during the Victorian era (whatever that was. I tuned out for Corbin’s explanation) for farming, separating the two.
The wood breathed around me, her song whistling through the trees. Birds soared overhead, and tiny creatures scurried through the undergrowth. The place teamed with unencumbered life – animals and plants free to roam wherever they wished. So different from the cloying oppression of the fae forests. InTir Na Nog, the trees bent toward you like bars on a prison, reminding you with every step that the world had edges.
I didn’t understand much of the human realm, butthisI got. Nature, unbound and unfettered. Freedom. Joyful abandon. No wonder the fae were ready to go to war for the chance to inhabit it once more.
“Liah!” I called, my whole body sighing in relief as sunlight shone through the trees and warmed my skin. “Breakfast time.”
Her head popped up from behind a fallen log. She’d made a circle of wildflowers around her golden hair, which did a little to distract from the violent cuts and bruises marring her skin. The stump of her amputated hand rested against an oak, the sight of it making my stomach churn with guilt. “About time. I’m going crazy down here. I want to go back.”
“Back where?”
“Back toTir Na Nog. I can’t stay here.”
“Liah, that’s stupid. First of all, I don’t know how to send you back. Second, Daigh will kill you.”
“You do know. I can go through the gateway.”
“You can’t. It’s still blocked by wards. And I can’t risk opening it to let you through.”
