“We’ll see,” he said.
He flicked his fingers and a sharp wind spun her away from him.
She swiveled back, but he was gone. And once again, her clothes were clean.
SHE DROPPEDinto the gully, sheaths on her fingers, blades hidden. Mud sucked at her sneakers. So much for being clean. Hero rushed through the leaf litter, scrambled up her leg, and onto her shoulder.
“Tamia!” she called.
The gully was long and winding, about as deep as she was tall. A small trickle of water ran down the center. Thin clouds remained in the sky, turning violet and pink as the sun set. Other than a few birds chit-chatting in the trees and the ubiquitous drone of bugs, the forest was quiet.
Still grinding her teeth over Endreas, she unsheathed her finger-knives, spun, and clawed the wet slope, flinging mud away into air.
Hero leapt from her shoulder and bounded back up into the brambles.
She didn’t know what made her feel worse. That she had allowed her Rae instincts to override her or that she’d done so with an Elf. Not just any Elf, the Crowned Prince.
No, she did know the worst part. It was that the thirst inside of her was stronger than ever. He had tortured her. He was a liar. He was an Elf. And yet, she wanted to be back in his arms, under him, with his mouth and his hands on her, in the mud, in a dungeon. The thirst didn’t care, as long as it happened and soon.
Sheathing her knives, she dug her fingers into her hair and roared.
“Troubles?” a gurgling voice asked.
Turning and dropping to the ground, legs crossed, her head fell into her hands. “I’m feeling sorry for myself, Tamia.”
“That’s it? No, how have you been, Tamia? What have you been up to? I’ve missed you, Tamia?”
She lifted her head. “I’ve missed you, Tamia. How have you been?”
The ribbon of water running along the gulch pooled before Magda. Out from the mud pushed a face the size of a manhole cover, vaguely feminine, with huge almond-shaped eyes and a knobby nose. Only her face appeared, as if she were buried on her back in the reddish-brown muck, but in fact, she had no back. She had no body. As the spirit of the Brackwood, she existed in every tree and through every creature who called the forest their home. This mucky manifestation was solely for the benefit of visitors.
“Anxious to the extreme.” Tamia’s voice was deep and melodic, yet a bit phlegmy sounding due to the mud. “Thank you very much.”
“So Kirk made it to you?”
“Of course he did. You sent him right to me.”
“And what happened?”
The whole of Tamia’s muddy face rippled as she rolled her eyes. “What do you think? I sent him away as fast as I could.”
“What?”
She sighed and the air around them seemed to heave. “I provided for him and gave him a guide. It was the best I could do.”
Magda almost kissed the face of mud. “Thank you, Tamia.”
“Now, what are you going to do?” Tamia asked archly. “Your Elf Prince was right. You will not allow the land to go without a Radiant and suffer. So either it will be you or Lavana.”
Magda gritted her teeth. “He’s not my Elf Prince—”
“Oh, he most obviously, definitely is. He was absolutely right that you’re lying to yourself about becoming Radiant and, now, about your feelings for him.”
“I don’t have feelings for him. He’s a Prince. That’s the only reason I have... urges. It’s the instinct. But I don’t understand why my Rae instincts are reacting to him. I mean, he’s an Elf.”
“That’s quite simple. Elves and Pixies were once the same race.”
Speechless, Magda stared down at the undulating face. “That’s not possible.”
