Page 66 of Fierce Highland Magic

"Did the road find you? Or did you find it?"

"That is not an answer."

The woman smiled faintly.

"No. You dislike those."

"You have no idea."

"Oh, I do."

Rowan moved half a step nearer me. Close. But not quite protecting.

The distinction irritated me—both the ambiguity and the fact that I was tracking it at all when I was supposed to be finished with his help.

The woman's green eyes flicked to him. "Still collecting burdens that do not belong to you, Rowan?"

"I prefer the term temporary inconvenience."

"And does the inconvenience know what you are protecting her from? Or only that you intend to spend yourself doing it?"

His smile froze. The line landed too cleanly.

I looked at him.

He looked at the woman.

Neither explained.

"Perhaps," Rowan said, "we could skip the part where you diagnose everyone in earshot and move directly to the part where you tell us what you want."

"I want her to rest."

"In a market that bills rest like a luxury commodity."

"There are places that do not bill."

"Named by you. Controlled by you."

"Offered freely."

The woman turned back to me.

"My name is Ailith."

The yew branches lowered slightly overhead. Somewhere down the ridge, a cluster of lanterns bent in her direction. The silver birch leaves spun faster, green-silver-green, and a faint smell drifted up—something warm and honeyed beneath the copper and wet stone.

I held my ground. "Ailith," I repeated.

"You have questions."

"I have several."

"Then ask them."

"Will you answer?"

"I will answer what I can."