“This trail is dangerous,” he goes on, “but she will show us how to safely reach the top of the canyon.”
While I’m thrilled we won’t be subjected to the treacherous climb along the wolf’s path, I’m not entirely convinced Raven’s will be much better.
Also—and this shouldn’t matter at all—he didn’t use Raven’s last name.
Was that because she didn’t offer it to him, or could there be another reason?
“Do you know her?” Maybe she’s from his village and ended up falling into the canyon herself. Although, from the agile way she stalks through the brush, I’d say the woman hasn’t fallen a day in her life. She could probably scale the cliff walls without a bother.
Maddox shakes his head. “She is a stranger to me.”
A stranger who can’t seem to stop glancing over her shoulder at him. Maddox appears equally fascinated, his gaze never straying too far from her bare green back.
Meanwhile, I’m left to trail along like a dog.
To make matters worse, I left my slippers behind, which means I’m barefoot as well. Thankfully, the mud has caked over the soles of my feet, which keeps the sharpest debris away, but it’s still damned uncomfortable.
Speaking of discomfort, isn’t Raven cold? I can let her borrow my dress if she wants. Not that her chest would fit into it. Didn’t Maddox say Unseelie women wear bands over their breasts? Where is Raven’s band?
We walk in silence for what feels like ages, until finally the low hum of voices floats on the cool breeze. The brush thins, revealing a wide, sloping shore filled with people.
The first thing I notice are the caves carved into the cliff face, connected through a network of wooden ladders and stone stairs.
The second thing I notice: They’re all women.
Every last one.
Heavens, there must be at least fifty. All tall and made of slender muscle. Thankfully, only a few are dressed like our escort. Ornotdressed, I suppose one could say. The others wearplain brown and green dresses or trousers and strips of cloth over their chests. Some are cooking over fires—whatever they’re making smells delicious. Others work clay on the riverbank, stacks of rusty orange bowls by their feet. A few more weave fabric on small looms. They stare from their fires and kilns and looms, but not at me.
I might as well be a bloomin’ ghost for all the attention they pay me.
They watch Maddox like he’s the most fascinating creature they’ve ever seen, smiling with their sharp teeth as he passes by. No bones ring their necks, only stones.
None of them are as striking as the one who found us, but they’re each intriguing in their own right.
I take a few quick steps to catch up to Maddox, muttering under my breath, “Where are all the men?” Maybe they’re out on a hunt. Yes. That must be it.
“They have only three males,” he says without turning to face me. “There were more, but they were killed not long ago.”
Raven starts talking before I can comment, pointing to things around the camp while Maddox nods and responds in kind. The others gather closer, knocking me out of the way in their haste to speak with him. Stepping on my toes.Ouch!Elbowing me in the bloody chest.
Tugging my hair?—
I whirl to find an elderly woman inspecting my curls like I’m a cow for purchase. Despite my glower, she doesn’t release my hair. Instead, she uses her other hand to poke my chest with her knobby finger.
“Stop that.” I yank my curls from her fist and fold my arms to keep her hands off me. By the time I turn back around, I can barely see Maddox’s head through the growing crowd.
Was this how he felt when he first crossed The Divide? Like an oddity at a bloomin’ fair? It’s a wonder he crossed at all. Idon’t blame the rest of the Unseelie for keeping to their own lands. I wouldn’t want to put up with this sort of treatment on a daily basis.
Although, I don’t know any Seelie brave enough to pull an Unseelie’s hair.
I force my way through the horde of Unseelie to where Maddox has stopped.
His large hand catches mine. “Are you all right?”
No. I’m not.
I’m frightened and irritated and feeling wholly inadequate.
