“I said no.” Mr. Sinclair shakes his head again.
With a brief wave of my hand, the very hand that’s holding the pouch of gold, I glamour Isabel’s father into compliance. His gaze becomes distant, and he sways slightly on his feet, but then his eyes suddenly focus on the pouch of gold. With a faint smile, he reaches out to accept the money. He nods, clutches the pouch to his chest, and retreats back into his room. When he fails to shut the door behind him, I swirl my hand through the air, sending a brief gust of winter wind to close it.
“What did you do to him?” Isabel asks. “Did you… did you just glamour him?”
“Yes, little moth. I glamoured him.” I gaze down at her. “Does that anger you?”
She exhales slowly. “I’m not sure. I feel like I ought to be angry, but I’m glad he took the money.” She’s silent for a longmoment before adding, “Thank you, Gideon. But… how can we be sure he’ll keep it? What if he comes to his senses in a few hours and decides to toss it out the window?”
I lift her hand and brush a gentle kiss across her knuckles. “The glamour I placed on him will fade quickly, but when he comes to his senses, he’ll think the money always belonged to him. He won’t question it.”
“Why… why did you do that?” She looks utterly confused, as though she can’t fathom any circumstance in which I might be benevolent.
“Because he’s important to you. You care about him. Therefore, I have a vested interest in his well-being too. I don’t want your father struggling to survive.” My heart fills with tenderness as I hold her gaze.
“Do you really mean that?”
“Yes, little moth. I do.” Who knew it would take being fated to a human female to inspire such compassion in me? If any of my comrades could see me now, they would wonder if I’ve sustained a head injury.
Isabel searches my face as though trying to determine whether I’m capable of deceit. Her throat works as she swallows.
“I… I don’t know what to make of you,” she whispers at last. “One moment, I believe you’re a cruel fae lord, and the next…” Her gaze flicks toward the closed door of the room where her father now rests with enough gold to begin anew. “And the next, you do something kind.”
My chest tightens at the uncertainty in her voice.
“I am a cruel fae lord when I need to be,” I say quietly, “but I will never turn that darkness on you.”
Her green eyes lift to mine, shimmering with unshed tears. For a moment, I fear she might pull away, fear she might rush back into the room with her father and force me to drag her out. But instead, her fingers tighten around mine.
“Thank you again,” she says softly, “for helping him.”
I incline my head. “Come, little moth. We should leave before the streets grow crowded. I will put my glamour back in place before we head downstairs, but there are some humans, usually those who have traces of fae ancestry and don’t even know it, who can sometimes see through glamours.”
She nods, and I revel in the slight blush that suddenly tinges her cheeks.
Together, we descend the stairs and pass through the receiving room below. The proprietor glances up from the hearth where a servant girl is coaxing flames to life, but thanks to my glamour, neither of them spares me a second glance.
Outside, the town is beginning to wake. Shopkeepers unlatch shutters, horse-drawn carts pass by in a steady procession, a group of giggling children chase a cat, and several women carrying baskets murmur to one another as they cross the street. I guide Isabel away from the main road, leading her toward the ussha-blessed forest on the edge of Hollins.
After entering the forest, we walk for a short spell until we reach a small clearing. A glance over my shoulder reveals the town is no longer visible through the trees.
“How long will it take to reach the Winter Court army’s encampment?” Isabel asks. “I mean, I assume that’s where we’re going.”
“Yes, that is exactly where we’re headed, and it will take about four days. If I were by myself, I could probably make the journey in two, but I don’t want to fly so fast that I make you ill.”
I do not admit that I could easily use my magic to help her better tolerate a quick, two-day journey. Nor do I admit that I intend to take my time as I travel to rejoin my people. The truth is, I want more time alone with my mate. Perhaps I’ll even stretch the journey to five or six days.
I readjust her rucksack over my shoulder and make sure my own pack is secured to my body, then I summon my wings in a quick flash of light.
Isabel’s eyes flare wide as she stands before me, her gaze on my wings. Through the bond, I sense her awe as well as her reluctant admiration. Envy, too. She wishes she could summon wings and travel the realm with as much ease as I can. She envies my freedom, but she’ll never admit it aloud.
Moving closer, I sweep her into my arms, holding her close as I cast one last glance around the forest. As thickly as ussha clings to the vegetation here, I suppose it’s only a matter of time before a fae settlement springs up nearby. I resolve that if the people of Hollins attack such a fae settlement, I will make sure Mr. Sinclair is out of harm’s way before more violence can occur.
Isabel finally settles into my arms with a soft sigh and places her hands on my chest. Her emotions continue hitting me, waves of wonder, anticipation, worry, and fear. She’s curious about the bond between us, but she’s loath to allow herself to feel hopeful or tempted by it.
Should I tell her I can sense her thoughts? Not word for word, not yet, but her emotions and the ideas behind them keep striking me with all the force of a winter wind.
She stares up at me, her eyes growing wider. “You’re in my head,” she says. “I can feel you… sifting around. Reading my thoughts. Stop it. Get out. Please.”
