Unfortunately, all of the above are my burdens to bear. Maddox doesn’t need to worry about me. He needs to get his wounds cleaned and stitched so that we can return home on this safe pathRavenpromised us.
Instead of voicing my insecurities, I force a smile and tell him I’m fine.
I’ll be better when we escape this awful place.
The stooped woman who touched my hair gestures at me, then has a quick exchange with Maddox that leaves him chuckling.
“What did she say?” I hate having to rely on him for communication, but there’s no other choice.
“She is asking if you wear . . .” His brow furrows as he lifts his eyes toward the clouds so far above us. “What is this word? Fake hair?”
“A wig?”
He clicks his fingers with a grin. “That is the one.”
No, my hair isn’t a bloody wig.
He says something else I don’t understand, and the women laugh.
Why does he have to be so damn charming all the time?
“There is good news this day. Riverglade has a healer with water for my wounds.”
“Who is Riverglade?” If she’s anything like Raven, I hate her already.
“Riverglade is not a who. It is a place. This place. I will go with Raven to be healed. Fern has promised to take care of you.”
All right, first, I don’t want him going anywhere alone withRaven.I don’t trust the woman at all. Second, who the hell is Fern?
Tell me it’s not the one who thinks I’m wearing a wig.
His smile fades, his mouth flattening. “I can stay if you would prefer?”
“No, no. You need to find the healer.” I’ll take a page out of the Unseelie’s book and scowl at everyone to ensure they leave me alone.
“You are certain?”
“Absolutely.”
A nod. “I will ask Fern to bring you something to eat.”
There are only two things I want from these people, and that’s for them to heal Maddox’s wounds and then point us in the right direction.
“Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.”
I’ll just be better when he comes back.
Maddox follows a smiling Raven through the crowd, leaving me on my own with a whole slew of Unseelie women glowering at me like I’m the enemy.
If only I knew how to tell them that I have absolutely no desire to be here either.
A woman wearing trousers like Raven’s stomps over and shoves a bowl at me.
Fern, I presume.
Her features are rounder, not as striking as Raven’s, but she’s attractive in her own way. At least she’s wearing a band across her chest.
I like to think I’m fairly adventurous with my eating, but whatever is slopping around inside the bowl looks like the mud we just traversed and smells even worse.
