chuckled. “We already did that.”
“We can do it again.”
“Hold that thought.”
As Micah climbed down the ladder, Inigo leaned over the platform and watched him leave.
“What the hell am I going to do if you don’t come back?” he whispered.
“Well, at least I’ll get a good night’s sleep.”
Inigo froze. That voice in his head hadn’t been his.
“Who said that?” he asked.
“Me. Blade. The horse. If only I could have closed my ears. I’d have run if I wasn’t tethered. All that moaning and groaning and slurping and sucking. I’m utterly traumatized.”
“Well fuck me,” Inigo gasped.
“No, thank you.”
Chapter Seven
Micah checked the ground and the sky before he emerged from the barn but neither saw nor heard any sign of any pursuit. He was reluctant to approach those who lived at the farm for help and possibly lose Inigo’s sanctuary. Better that he moved as far away from here as he could, though he still wasn’t giving the vampire much chance of survival. Without a way back to the other side, he was stuck. They were both stuck. And so was the shifter he’d been sent to retrieve.
Staying alert, he let his wings out and, keeping low, made his way back to the village they’d traveled through. He was too tense to feel the exhilaration of flight. The opportunity to take to the air on the other side came rarely. It was too much of a risk, though his boss made all faeries practice flying in the deserted Scottish Highlands. Annoying that when he’d rushed to his parents after Ellie had discovered how to return the Kewen, he’d been forced to rely on the superior speed of his boss’s deputy.
Micah had money in his pocket thanks to the donor of the clothes he wore, and he made for the first inn he spotted. When everyone fell silent at his entrance, he mentally groaned. Did they know he was an intruder? He approached the bar and pulled out a handful of coins. He didn’t even know the bloody currency. He might not have enough for a drink. The surly-faced landlord slapped a towel on the counter, splattering Micah with stale beer.
He was tempted to ask for a champagne cocktail with a straw and a cherry just to see the guy’s expression, but he said, “Ale, please.”
A tankard slammed down in front of him, the contents slopping over the top. Micah held out his hand. The faerie picked up three coins, gave him a sly look, and picked up two more.
Micah slunk to the corner of the room and sat down.
“What’s a king’s guard doing slumming it in here?” asked a voice to his left.
Oh shit . That was what was wrong.
“I stole his clothes and money when I escaped from the castle dungeon,” Micah said.
He could see no point in anything but the truth. He needed the help of those who didn’t like the king. If he wasn’t open, how could he expect anyone else to be the same? The man who’d spoken, an older faerie with long gray hair, scraped his chair across the flagstone floor and planted his tankard next to Micah’s.
“Is there a reward for your capture?”
Brilliant idea, fuckwit . “I don’t know.”
“Perhaps I should ask at the castle.”
The moment any faerie left the inn, Micah would too. He kept his voice loud enough for others to hear. “I arrived in Faerieland yesterday through a portal in the king’s bedchamber. I’ve never been here before. My family was banished, accused of stealing the Kewen, and not able to return until we found it.”
“The Norwoods,” said a man standing by the fire.
Micah turned to face him. Another older faerie. “Yes. I’m Micah Norwood. My sister and I brought back the Kewen. She returned to the other side, and now I need to find a way back.”
The faerie sitting with him laughed. “Good luck with that.”
Micah glanced around the room but saw no sign of willingness to help on any face. Damn . “Have any other strangers recently crossed the Divide into Faerieland?”
“Not that I know of,” said the guy at his
“We can do it again.”
“Hold that thought.”
As Micah climbed down the ladder, Inigo leaned over the platform and watched him leave.
“What the hell am I going to do if you don’t come back?” he whispered.
“Well, at least I’ll get a good night’s sleep.”
Inigo froze. That voice in his head hadn’t been his.
“Who said that?” he asked.
“Me. Blade. The horse. If only I could have closed my ears. I’d have run if I wasn’t tethered. All that moaning and groaning and slurping and sucking. I’m utterly traumatized.”
“Well fuck me,” Inigo gasped.
“No, thank you.”
Chapter Seven
Micah checked the ground and the sky before he emerged from the barn but neither saw nor heard any sign of any pursuit. He was reluctant to approach those who lived at the farm for help and possibly lose Inigo’s sanctuary. Better that he moved as far away from here as he could, though he still wasn’t giving the vampire much chance of survival. Without a way back to the other side, he was stuck. They were both stuck. And so was the shifter he’d been sent to retrieve.
Staying alert, he let his wings out and, keeping low, made his way back to the village they’d traveled through. He was too tense to feel the exhilaration of flight. The opportunity to take to the air on the other side came rarely. It was too much of a risk, though his boss made all faeries practice flying in the deserted Scottish Highlands. Annoying that when he’d rushed to his parents after Ellie had discovered how to return the Kewen, he’d been forced to rely on the superior speed of his boss’s deputy.
Micah had money in his pocket thanks to the donor of the clothes he wore, and he made for the first inn he spotted. When everyone fell silent at his entrance, he mentally groaned. Did they know he was an intruder? He approached the bar and pulled out a handful of coins. He didn’t even know the bloody currency. He might not have enough for a drink. The surly-faced landlord slapped a towel on the counter, splattering Micah with stale beer.
He was tempted to ask for a champagne cocktail with a straw and a cherry just to see the guy’s expression, but he said, “Ale, please.”
A tankard slammed down in front of him, the contents slopping over the top. Micah held out his hand. The faerie picked up three coins, gave him a sly look, and picked up two more.
Micah slunk to the corner of the room and sat down.
“What’s a king’s guard doing slumming it in here?” asked a voice to his left.
Oh shit . That was what was wrong.
“I stole his clothes and money when I escaped from the castle dungeon,” Micah said.
He could see no point in anything but the truth. He needed the help of those who didn’t like the king. If he wasn’t open, how could he expect anyone else to be the same? The man who’d spoken, an older faerie with long gray hair, scraped his chair across the flagstone floor and planted his tankard next to Micah’s.
“Is there a reward for your capture?”
Brilliant idea, fuckwit . “I don’t know.”
“Perhaps I should ask at the castle.”
The moment any faerie left the inn, Micah would too. He kept his voice loud enough for others to hear. “I arrived in Faerieland yesterday through a portal in the king’s bedchamber. I’ve never been here before. My family was banished, accused of stealing the Kewen, and not able to return until we found it.”
“The Norwoods,” said a man standing by the fire.
Micah turned to face him. Another older faerie. “Yes. I’m Micah Norwood. My sister and I brought back the Kewen. She returned to the other side, and now I need to find a way back.”
The faerie sitting with him laughed. “Good luck with that.”
Micah glanced around the room but saw no sign of willingness to help on any face. Damn . “Have any other strangers recently crossed the Divide into Faerieland?”
“Not that I know of,” said the guy at his
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