“How?”
“Quinn here has been with us since he was a baby. What is it now, Quinn, your twenty-second year?”
“Twenty-third.” He grins, sitting a little straighter.
“I don’t understand. How are you still here? Still alive?”
“They can’t get rid of me.” He chuckles. “Though Domanikk has tried a few times. Kicked my arse more times than I can count.”
Domanikk leans over and kisses my cheek. “I need to go find Reth, see if he’ll talk to me. You all right here with Quinn? He’ll walk you back in time for the Gathering.”
“Sure,” Quinn and I say in unison, then laugh together.
“Look after her, Quinn, or I’ll kick that arse again.” Domanikk’s already walking away, his voice carrying back between the tents.
I wait until he’s gone, then turn back to Quinn. “So how? How are you alive?”
“I’m useful to them. My Gift.” He shrugs.
I lean forwards slightly. “Your Gift?”
“I’m a Horse Whisperer” The words come out reverent, proud.
My brow furrows. “A what? I’ve never heard of it.”
“They say it’s a piece of Terra’s heart, forged to bind the Fae races together. My Gift answers to the Equitae alone—a natural affinity woven into my very blood. Everything it grants me exists for their benefit, and theirs only.”
“What do you mean, everything?”
“Enhanced healing, emotional manipulation, telepathy.” He ticks them off on his fingers. “Plus more, though I’m still learning those. All of it only works on the Equitae.”
My mind catches on the last word. “Hold on—telepathy? So, you can hear their thoughts. That must be overwhelming with so many Equitae here?”
Quinn chuckles, such an easy, open sound. “No, not quite. I can communicate with them through thoughts alone, and they can do the same with me.”
He pauses, seeming to consider how to explain it. “Though like all of the Gifts’ abilities, it has to be mutual. It can’t be forced from either side unless the Gift is incredibly powerful, which my Gift isn’t.”
My fingers drum against my knee. “How have I never heard of this?”
“It’s quite rare, or so Reth tells me.” Quinn’s expression darkens slightly. “Also dangerous to the Equitae—in the wrong hands.”
“That’s what I don’t understand.” I shake my head. “Why would Reth keep you alive, let alone let you grow up here, live within Heartwood as one of them? I get the impression he hates us Earthbound Fae.”
Quinn barks out a laugh—genuine, unguarded. “Oh, he does. He bloody hates us. As long as I make myself useful andgenerally stay out of his way, I’m tolerated.” He pauses, his smile fading. “As for why I wasn’t killed as a baby, I can’t answer that. Or how I even got here. You’d need to ask Reth.”
“How have I not met you before?” The words come out sharper than I intend. “Being here would have been easier knowing I wasn’t alone.”
“I’m not a prisoner here, Alaya.” His voice is gentle but firm. “I choose to be here. It’s all I’ve ever known. They are my family.”
Family.
The word settles over me like a weight.
Hadn’t I started to feel something similar? That ease, that sense of belonging, despite being their captive? Wasn’t it something I had always craved?
“Sorry.” I look down at my hands. “I didn’t mean to offend you. It just would have been nice to talk to another Earthbound. One who doesn’t treat me with disgust for being Desolate.”
“Desolate?” His head tilts, blue eyes searching my face.
