Page 108 of Blood of the Fairest

"Do me a favor and say that to her. It may redirect some of her fury over to you so I can ask her yet again what gives her the nightmares."

I snort and replace the axe, striding after Verena.

He sighs. "I'll take your silence as a no."

"I am still groveling my way into her good graces. Weasel your own way out of her wrath."

"And here I thought we were becoming friends," Eris grumbles.

Again, I catch up to Verena. I am debating how to ask her more about her otherworldly past when my gaze locks onto the dark treeline of the Loomdark, emerging through the distant mist.

I halt, gently grasping Verena's arm so she will stop, too.

What witchery is this?

"Wulf? What's—" She looks at where I'm frowning and squints hard. "Damn, those are some massive trees. They really put the loom in Loomdark. I guess Ida's house has to be close, huh?"

I scan the murky horizon. Sometimes this dark, twisted wood puts forth strange mists that toy with the eye and warp the mind.

But when the image stays the same for several moments, I frown.

"The forest has grown."

"I hear trees do that," Verena jokes.

Her jovial tone toward me is a relief. It's a sign that though she may be irritated with Eris and outright loathe that faerie, I am slowly becoming someone she relies on. Someone she can be comfortable with.

That thought is immensely satisfying, but now is not the time to relish it.

"The forest itself spreads from time to time," I clarify. "It is said the Loomdark runs rampant with an ancient, mysterious magic which hungers for more land. Ida's house is still several furlongs away. It must now be engulfed by the trees."

The beautiful redheaded woman stares at me for a second before groaning.

"Oh, fuck. You're saying we'll have to actually go inside the Forbidden Forest."

"The Loomdark is dangerous, but it is not forbidden."

She mutters about missing something in her world before pulling her shoulders back. "Let's just go in far enough to get to Ida's house. These might be famous last words, but how bad could it be?"

Eris rubs his face as if exhausted. "For one so witful, your sense of self-preservation is staggeringly bad. In my opinion, you ought to return to Isenmere and simply work with the fabrics available there."

"No, I ought to cover up every mirror and reflective surface I see so I don't have to hear your opinions—which, by the way, I don't remember asking for."

"We both know you're far too vain to actually do that."

She gestures at herself theatrically. "And again I ask, can you blame me?"

Eris is serious. "How could I, when I myself am so addicted to the sight of you?"

What I lack heavily in verbal eloquence, this lost soul clearly has in spades.

Verena is flustered briefly before looking at me. "Any chance you can leave the axe behind? I want to stay mad, but he's being all poetic and apparently, I'm metaphorically ovulating."

I resist a smile. "The axe may be necessary against the evils we're bound to face."

"And on that cheery note, let's go."

We leave the mist-shrouded hills and step into the quiet embrace of the Loomdark. I carry the scars to prove I have been here many times to hunt various monsters, yet the chill of this unholy, enormous wood feels fresh each time I return.