Wraithwood, Emberhaven, and Ferndale,Gwen recited again as she retraced her route through the snow, now churned into a muddy mess by foot traffic.
Elora had already secured the alliance of Tally of Emberhaven. Even with the Wraithwood leader’s disgusting words, Emberhaven’s allegiance had not waivered. Elora must be very persuasive in bed.
Wraithwood. She left him to Sylva. Gwen knew enough about prejudice to understand that she would not be the one to convince him. Any promise she made would not be trusted, anyway.
Inside the house, she discarded her heavy fur cloak but left her weapons in place. Winter in Baylaur was supposed to be mild; but in the human realm, just through the rift, the weather more closely matched the terrestrial kingdom. Though there was something to be said for a few inches of snow, rather than a few feet of it.
Sylva appeared at the door to the kitchen, gray hair neat as always and steaming cup in her hand. She offered it to Gwen immediately.
“Ferndale still upstairs?”
Sylva nodded. “I’ve got Wraithwood convinced. Coerced,” she amended. “But Ferndale…” her eyes traveled up the stairwell.
“One of Elora’s scouts spotted their approach this morning. As big as the forces the other three sent combined, and then some,” Gwen said grimly.
Sylva had admitted to not knowing much about the delegate from Ferndale personally; but she’d confided there was one thing that the town was known for—greed.
Gwen could use that.
She thanked Sylva and climbed the stairs. The door at the end of the hallway was closed, as it had been since the man’s arrival. He’d only opened it to attend the meeting downstairs the day before and to receive food and guests. As far as Gwen knew, those guests had ranged from residents of Eldermist to Helene, the leader of Thornbriar. But no fae had been invited over the threshold.
Gwen knocked but did not wait for an invitation.
She closed the door behind her with a resoluteclick, pressing her back to it as her eyes scanned the room. It was sparse by elemental standards, but better than many places Gwen had slept over the years. Including the last few weeks, when she’d taken up residence in Sylva’s pantry.
A real, wood-framed bed stood in the corner. Too short for fae proportions, but adequate for most humans. A dressing table in the other corner, with a pitcher and basin for water. Embroidered curtains hung at the window, where a single wing-back chair held the room’s occupant.
He was round and dressed for cold despite the roaring fire in his hearth. Unlike the headache from Wraithwood sitting in the kitchen downstairs, there was no hate in the man’s dark eyes. Gwen struggled to place human ages, so different from how the fae aged, but she guessed he was at least a decade younger then Sylva. Experienced but not yet elderly.
“I wondered when you’d come.” He tilted his head to one side as he considered her, the thick black hair on his head shifting with the motion. “You are welcome to sit.”
There was a single wooden chair across from him.
“I’ll stand.”
“As you wish.”
Gwen folded her hands neatly in front of her, a trick she’d learned in her youth when she’d dreamed of being High Queen of all Annwyn. It kept her from fidgeting.
“You have voiced no objection to joining your forces to ours,” she said. “But you have not agreed, either.”
“That is correct.” The man—Ferndale, her mind dubbed him—tilted his head the opposite direction, as if that would give him some new information.
“What will it take to secure your alliance?” Gwen asked. She did not have time for anything but honestly.
Ferndale’s head straightened to attention. “I see that what I have heard of the terrestrial fae is true. You do not favor the clever, cunning machinations of your elemental brothers and sisters.”
“I am tired and the battle will soon be joined,” Gwen said. If her hands had not been clasped, she would have crossed them over her chest. “The time for cleverness and cunning have long since passed.”
Ferndale’s chin dipped a fraction of an inch. “What will you offer me for my alliance?”
Your life,her lioness purred.
She needed to go hunting. After, she promised the feline that lived just beneath her skin.
“Gold, jewels, protection,” she listed the most obvious choices.
His head did not tilt, nor did his chin move.
