“Oh. But . . .” I grimaced, then whined, “It's so pretty.”
The Earth King chuckled. “You're not going to hurt it. Just give it a kick.”
I kicked the unicorn.
The lavender unicorn reared, pawed the air, and raced off. With a high yip, I clutched the reins and steered it to the right, deeper into the Earth Kingdom. King Rory and a few of his soldiers chased me, all on horseback. Or would it be unicornback? I managed to get my mount to follow Rivella's trail, but that was mainly because Rivella hadn't veered off the beaten path for many yards. And by the time her trail left the road, my unicorn had calmed into a canter.
Sighing in relief, I pulled on the reins and brought my mount to a halt. King Rory stopped beside me, his lips twitching. I stuck my tongue out at him, and he burst into laughter.
“You said to kick it,” I growled.
“Yes, I did,” Rory reined in his laughter. “I'm sorry. I didn't expect it to take off like that. You must have a very strong kick indeed.”
“Dragon-Sidhe,” I said in my duh tone. “Rivella's trail heads that way.” I waved toward a footpath that left the main road and then tapped the reins against my unicorn's neck.
This time, it went where I wanted it to go. King Rory and I rode side by side, his knights behind us on their own unicorns, and the journey became much more enjoyable. The forest was settling down for the night and the only sounds I picked up were the scurrying of little animals, the soft thuds of hooves, and an occasional snort—from the unicorns, not me. The orange-red trail continued strong for a while, then paused and gathered, drenching an area in the color, or scent, rather. I didn't bother to search the spot. It didn't matter why she had paused here, only that she continued. Although I did glance at the broken branches lining the path and wondered over them.
A few trails led off the path, but Rivella's scent continued forward, deep into the ancient forest. Trees of many species grew in the Earth Kingdom, as if a gardener had created a nature preserve for all the plant life he could find. They weren't cast about willy-nilly, though. The kingdom had several regions where different types of plants thrived, such as a humid zone where tropical plants did well. We were in a deciduous forest zone of a temperate climate, full of oaks, elms, maples, aspens, and birches. Fey creatures shimmied through the trees and the thick brush, shining eyes peering out at us from everywhere. Some of those eyes were very tiny and could only belong to Earth Pixies. I assumed there was a Pixie village nearby. The unicorns didn't even glance at the wildlife or little faeries, completely unbothered by the inhabitants of the woods.
Until we came to the end of Rivella's trail.
We veered off the path at last and entered a clearing with a stout cottage of stone and thatch. Most of the building was covered in vines and moss. It looked as if it had grown out of the ground rather than built. Smoke spiraled out of a chimney and a glow came from behind leaded glass windows. The scent of bread would have been perfect. It would have made the scene idyllic.
But no one was baking bread.
In front of the cottage, a pile of fur and little limbs shifted. Small faces with beady black eyes swiveled toward us and hissed. The scent of carrion burned my nose, but I'd been prepared for that, having scented it long before we came to the cottage. I didn't mention it to Rory because it was a forest, and dead things were not unusual in forests. But also because I didn't want to alarm him.
Maybe I should have.
Our mounts reared, all of them this time, and hooves came crashing down on the earth, sending the little faeries scuttling. They continued to hiss at us, pulling parts of their meal with them, their skinny tails lashing and long snouts wrinkling. They shouted at us in Fey as they ran into the cottage, their dirty clothing nearly the same color as their dark, hairy skin.
“Rat Boys!” I hissed.
I prided myself on not judging people by their appearances, especially faeries, but Fir Darrigs, otherwise known as rat boys, were nasty little things whose appearances were not false advertising. They were as gross inside as they were outside. Horrible creatures who delighted in cruel and often gruesome practical jokes. Oh, and they ate rotten meat.
“Is she in there?” Rory demanded as he dismounted. “Is my Rivella in that cottage with those Fir Darrigs?”
“She sure is,” I snarled as I dismounted with less grace. “Damn Rat Boys. They were involved in the—”
I cut myself off as Rory looked at me sharply. Damn, I couldn't tell him about the time Darkness infected Faerie.
“Never mind,” I muttered. Then I blinked. “Rat Boys. Talking mice. Wow. That's an interesting coincidence.” I looked around and sure enough, there was a pumpkin patch to the side of the cottage. “Pumpkins. Great Scott!”
“What mice?” Rory asked. “And what about the pumpkins?”
“Nothing. It's just . . . nothing.” I shook my head. “Go on, but be careful. I'm right behind you.”
Instead of barging into the cottage as I expected him to do, King Rory knocked on the door. Hissing came from inside, then a shrill voice. Thuds, then clanging. Footsteps finally, before the door was swung open. A willowy woman stood in the frame. Her scowl quickly shifted when she saw the King. It helped that he was wearing his crown.
She gaped at him, then spoke in Fey.
“I am King Rory,” Rory said. “If you would please speak English for my companion, I'd appreciate it.” He waved a hand toward me.
“Greetings, King Rory.” The woman curtsied deep even as she frowned at me, doubtless confused as to why I needed them to speak English. “What brings you to our humble home?”
“I'm looking for a Fire-Sidhe woman who came to your cottage.”
The woman blinked, then pushed back the leaves that rustled in her hair. “No such woman came here, King Rory. Believe me, I would remember that.”
