“Have you ever seen one?”
“Goodness no. I stay away from the square on Wednesdays. But one of Nolan’s friends said the sight of them would turn your blood cold. They’re big as giants and covered in warts, with hairy hands and fangs the size of your thumbs.”
They sound terrifying, indeed.
Ronan falls back to drape an arm across my shoulder. “Fear not, Kerris. If any one of those Unseelie bastards deign to show their faces, I’ll protect you.” He pats the bejeweled dagger hanging from his belt.
While I appreciate the sentiment, it’s hard to imagine Ronan taking on a giant Unseelie warrior and emerging the victor. The prince seems more likely to use the dagger to butter his toast than to stab someone.
“What about me, darling?” Ivee whines from the back of the group.
“I’ll protect you too,” he says, but it sounds more like an afterthought.
The cobblestones end abruptly, meeting a dirt path cluttered with foot and hoofprints. Light from the final lamp post is no match for the darkness beyond. We come to a stop at the edge of that golden arc, peering into the night. Nolan withdraws his blade and then nods to Ronan. Together, they step into the shadows.
Nia clings to me as we tiptoe behind them, listening for any suspicious sounds in the silence.
The dirt gives way to a wide bridge of planks and rope that stretches across a black void. The weathered boards bow in the center, as if on the verge of snapping under any bit of weight.
My slipper grazes the stones clinging to the ledge, knocking one free. It tumbles into the abyss, vanishing completely. I listen for the sound of it hitting the bottom, but only silence answers.
“You’ve seen it. We should go back now,” Trevor calls from the cobbles. Ivee and her followers wait next to him, their hands folded as if in prayer.
Ronan snorts. “Why? Are you afraid of the big, bad Unseelie fae?”
“Of course not.”
“Prove it.” Ronan tilts his head toward the bridge. “Cross The Divide.”
“That is madness,” Trevor shoots back. “No one crosses the bridge.”
“Really?I seem to recall the Unseelie crossing every Wednesday.”
“You know what he means,” Nolan mutters.
Trevor’s spine snaps straight. “Being afraid isn’t the same as being weak.”
“No? You sure about that?” Ronan nudges Nolan aside and steps onto the first plank. The wood groans and creaks, warning him to stop there.
Ivee whimpers from behind her hands. “Don’t do this, Ronan. I beg you.” Florence and Aurelia join in her pleading, their faces drained of color.
Perhaps it is my ignorance, but I don’t believe the Unseelie could possibly be as awful as everyone seems to believe.
If they were that lawless, they wouldn’t abide by a mere rule that keeps them from crossing the bridge any other day. If they were that murderous, there wouldn’t be a bridge in the first place.
Ronan takes another backward step. “Come on, Trevor. I’ll go with you. I’ll even hold your hand if you want.”
Trevor twists on his heel and stalks back toward the glow of town.
Nolan’s fists bunch at his sides. “You’ve proven your point, Ronan. You can come back now.”
Ronan keeps stepping back and back, throwing me a wink before turning around and continuing until he’s nothing more than a silhouette, swallowed by darkness
Raking both hands through his hair, Nolan steps onto the bridge. “Ronan!”
There is no answer.
“Ronan! This isn’t fucking funny,” Nolan roars.
