That sword was decorative!I whack his upper arm.And how do you expect to accompany?—
I clap a hand over my mouth to muffle a shriek as Lachlan shrinks down in a flare of light, his skin turning a dusky purple as his pupils swell and two translucent wings sprout from his back.
He—in the form ofVesper—flits up to my shoulder, placing a tiny hand on my neck to steady himself. “It’s a glamour,” he whispers in Vesper’s high-pitched voice. My body shakes with silent laughter, nearly enough to knock him off. “Another benefit of my gift. It’s not unlimited, though. The energy required to hold the glamour means I cannot use thediamrhánin this form.”
“Were you glamoured the night of the báshound attack?”
“Yes, why?”
“Hmm.” My lips flatten. “As Vesper?”
“No.” Lachlan peers down at his shrunken body. “This is, uh, new. Don’t tell her. I’m not sure whether she’d be flattered or carve out my spleen.”
I huff a laugh. “Well, I think you look and sound adorable.”
He preens, fluttering his tiny wings.
“Let’s hope Áine’s knights agree.”
“It’s down this way, miss.”The beefy knight swats at Lachlan, who’s flitting around his head as he leads us around the lake toward the church on the other side of the property. “What did you say your pixie’s name was?”
“I didn’t. And she’s notmypixie. Pixies belong to themselves. Her name’s Vesper.”
Lachlan hovers before the knight’s face, blinking big, black eyes sweetly before plucking out a strand of the man’s hair.
The knight swings a fist at Lachlan, which he easily dodges before stealing another strand. “Ouch!”
“My apologies, sir. I’m not sure what’s gotten into her this morning.” I shield my mouth and whisper, “I think she’s flirting with you.”
The knight grumbles, rubbing the crown of his head, then jogs up the church steps to open the door.
I step inside, and when he tries to follow, I halt him with a raised palm. “That’s far enough, thank you.”
A frown pulls down his jowls. “I’m not sure I should?—”
“You want your duke to have his chance at the crown, yes?” I push the door halfway shut.
“Well, yes, of course,” he splutters, red-faced.
“Then I’ll request you leave me to my searching. The novillum seed gets shy when there are too many people about.”
The lie pacifies him, and he sketches a shallow bow. “Right, then. Best of luck, my lady. We’re all quite ready for this to be over and for Duke Áine to put these insurrectionists in Campan’s Vale down once and for all.”
“Quite.” I smile against the bilious anger crawling up my throat, then shut him out. Through the window, I watch him clank back to the main house to join the other knights. “All clear.”
I turn to find Lachlan—back in his full, mouth-watering form—gripping the back of a pew so tightly the wood is groaning. He’s muttering something about how he’ll show the knight an insurrection; break his jaw all over again.
“Anything?” he asks once he’s recovered himself and gesturing toward the ring, which has grown so hot, my skin is near to blistering.
The nave is small, almost primitive, with white clapboard walls and a few rows of time-worn pews. Upon the altar stand four empty pedestals. Placeholders for missing faerie gods? Clearly, no one has worshiped in here for quite some time. To the right of the altar, there’s an archway leading to?—
The ring flares, and I hiss in a breath.
Lachlan’s immediately at my side. “Where?”
I jut my chin toward the archway.
The stone staircase we find looks as if it predates this building by several centuries, and as we make our way down, the air grows damp and cool. And quiet.
