“Not the Reivers.” I find myself smiling again. “They may be rough, their magic might be dirty, but all they wanted was to be left alone.”
“So why did the Faerie start a war?”
“Because there is magic in the Night Lands they want. Or rather wanted, given they lost.”
“What about this place? The Underhill,” she asks me.
“It is a place no one wants, not even those who inhabit it.”
“So why have we ended up here?” my lady half whispers. “Why was there a portal from the tavern to here, and why was it activated by magic?”
“I don’t know,” I reply through gritted teeth. “All I do know is we need to get out of here before we try to find the answers to those questions.”
I take a peek out of the shelter. It is lighter than it was, most likely signifying morning. I know I won’t be sleeping again.
“What are we waiting for?” my lady says with a yawn which goes directly to my todger. “I don’t want to stay here any longer than you.”
“Your word, Lady Ryle, is my command,” I rumble, trying not to look at the way the light is cast through her shift.
Because one word from her, and I think I might explode.
HAZEL
Warden is only the second person I’ve confessed my lack of background to. Maybe it was because he has nightmares, maybe it’s this place, the Underhill, which made me do it, but regardless, he knows.
He knows I am not who I might appear to be. In the Night Lands, that could be a death sentence. But to Warden, it is something he wants to help me find answers to.
I find it warming, even in the incredibly chill air as I struggle into my dress and attach the sword to my waist, slipping on my boots and rubbing at my shoulders vigorously.
Note to self: Next time I fall through a portal, bring a coat.
Warden makes swift work of pulling down the shelter. As he packs it away, he hands me an apple.
“Just how many of these did Hilda give you?”
“She knows what a Brag likes,” Warden says with a sly grin.
My blood heats and it really shouldn’t. I might have shared a kiss which made my toes curl with Warden but that doesn’t mean anything. He could go around kissing everyone for all I know. Especially pretty witches like Hilda. I doubt very much I’m feeling jealousy. That would be stupid and I don’t do stupid.
I touch the hilt of the sword, and the heat diminishes. I take a bite from the apple, and Warden grunts.
“What?” I say, probably with too much force.
“Nothing,” Warden replies, hoisting the saddlebags onto his shoulder. “I think I might have picked up a Ley Line,” he adds.
“Near here?”
“Not so far away,” Warden says as he transforms into his Brag form and helps me onto his back. “I feel them pricking at me.”
“Can we trust them? You heard what Peggy said.”
“The Wyrm is mistaken. The lines cannot be affected by any magic. They are set, no matter where you are.”
My thoughts swirl around me as we pick our way back to the main track and through the forest. My confession to Warden still sits strangely within my abdomen. It’s not I feel I shouldn’t have said anything, but that when I say it out loud, I feel like I should have done more to find out who I am. Especially in the presence of Warden, who has clearly sworn to do whatever necessary to get his mortality back.
It doesn’t take us long to exit the trees and find ourselves on brown moorland which stretches away into the mist as if it doesn’t have an end.
“I see the line,” Warden calls out.
