Chapter 15

Fifteen

Lorcan

K elpies are fun . Unfortunately, given the way the Call is pulsing beneath my skin, I don’t think my mate agrees.

In her panic, she’s lost all her air and seems to have forgotten that I’m with her, having grabbed the kelpie’s mane at the same time. With my free hand, I press her against me, willing the buzz between our bodies to keep her from slipping into a panic as she promptly loses the breath she was told to hold on to.

Silly pet. We’ll have to have a talk about best practice for not drowning when we reach Cressidick.

Her warmth counters the icy embrace of the river, and I encourage her to lock her legs around my waist, keeping her steady as I angle myself to shield her from the current and then press my lips against hers in a tight seal.

Having my rock-hard dick trapped against her is not helping me focus on forcing my air into her lungs, but I manage, silently promising my body that I’ll bury myself inside her at the nearest opportunity.

I have to, anyway; the stupid kelpie is washing off her dust. Stupid horse. Briefly, I consider stabbing it for the insult before I dismiss the impulse.

Rose’s eyes blink open, locking with mine for a second before she looks down and goes utterly still.

I cock my head, watching carefully for her reaction.

Beneath us, along the riverbed, are the pearly bones of the kelpies’ other riders, scattered like jewels among the mud and fragments of black shale. Pretty, but if Rose disagrees, our ride might not take it well, and even I would struggle to blink from a kelpie’s grasp.

I’ll have to chop off my hand if Rose pisses off the bitey pony, and the blood would be wasted in the river.

The kelpie picks up speed, and I suck in air as we tumble over a waterfall, blinking water out of my eyes as I catch sight of the others ahead. Behind us, the Fomorian’s cursing is barely audible over the roar of water before we’re plunged back down, and Rose is back to clinging to me for dear life.

The entire trip takes minutes at most, shaving days or maybe even weeks off our journey, but it’s long enough for her to start shaking.

Perhaps I should gift her a kelpie head for her birthday. I’m still wondering about the logistics of trapping one to kill it when it drags us from the water and onto the muddy banks of the Silfeyn. The moment our feet touch land, the magic attaching us to the sodden mane releases, and we collapse on the ground.

The kelpies whinny, then bow low once before taking off back into the river.

My mate coughs up murky water, and I rub her back soothingly.

“Next time can we just blink?” she asks me seriously, her watery violet eyes meeting mine.

Well, no. Cressida knows my tricks. She and her mates wear enchanted cuffs to stop me blinking straight to them. She became a little paranoid when the oath broke my vow of obedience, but only very stupid redcaps bother holding grudges over a puny little thing like three thousand years of forced servitude.

“You know, riding a kelpie without being eaten or bargaining away your soul is actually considered a rare honour,” I tell her, shoving to my feet and offering out my hand to help her up. “That was comparatively gentle compared to what they do to their victims.”

“If that was gentle—” Caed hops on one leg as he empties water—ooh he caught a bonus fishy—from his boot. “I don’t want to see those things in a bad fucking mood.”

“Are you okay?” Wolfie is crouched by Rose, ignoring his own sodden state in favour of pushing the wet strands of hair from her face.

We’re all waiting for her answer. The púca’s ears flick away water and then swivel to face her, and even the dullahan pauses his fussing over his horse as Rose tries to find words.

“Were those…? Did they kill…?” she stammers, then shakes her head. “What am I saying? Of course, the fanged horses eat people?—”

“Mostly idiots,” I interject. “It’s a good thing. Every time they eat someone, the average intelligence of your subjects increases.”

No one wants to be queen of the dumb and stupid. Unfortunately, that doesn’t seem to cheer Rose, but she turns her head and pins an empty spot with a look.

“You’re right,” she says, probably to one of her ghosts. “I—” Her breath shudders, and my hat morphs into a large, dry, hooded poncho to warm her.

It takes her a second, maybe longer, but she shakes her hair back and looks around at the darkening bank with calm eyes.

“Where to now?”

As if they were waiting for her to speak, four fae slip out from between the trees, offering her shallow bows. Their leather armour is worn, but well cared for, and the male at the front steps forward, removing his helm as he goes.

Eugen. Great. I wonder if Cressida is still letting him strut about like a peacock rather than getting involved with any real fighting.

“Lady Nicnevin.” He offers a second bow. “Our Queen has ordered us to escort you to her camp—” He catches sight of Prae and Caed.

The soldiers raise their weapons, but none of the Guard do the same. Rose waits for one of her males to say something before huffing out a breath.

“Lower your swords. They’re with us.”

None of them comply, and I cock my head to one side. Stabbing the bad-mouthed blue idiot is fine, but ignoring an order from their high queen?

“Which one would you like me to kill first?” I ask her.

“Lord Lorcan,” Eugen grates out. “You’d defend the blade prince and his cousin?”

Sighing, I release Rose and stride up to him and flick him on the nose. “No, Genie, but I do take issue with a bunch of grunts disobeying Danu Incarnate when she gives them a direct order.”

Without any further warning, I stab a blade up through the underside of his jaw.

Blood arcs, but no one moves to save him as I use another to separate his head from his body. Good.

I borrow my cap from Rose for just long enough to top it up before returning it to its proper place on her head.

“Right, who’s second in command?” Jaro asks, sounding tired. “Let’s go, before this riverbank is swarmed with Fomorians at nightfall.”

A soldier steps forward, the hesitation on his dark features half-hidden by his helmet. “This way. There is a route along the treetops that will enable us to cross the forest unseen.”

Grinning, because Rose is going to love traversing the canopy, I cartwheel ahead of him, looking over my shoulder to watch as our pretty mate finally notices just how large the trees are. Here on the bank of the river, they’re smaller, but still too large to wrap your arms around. Barely a handful of minutes’ walk into the forest, and the trunks become larger and larger. Their sheer size makes it impossible to see more than a handful of yards in any direction.

And as always, the leaves fall in a constant rain of fiery reds, oranges, and yellows. Purposefully, I somersault back into a huge pile then blink out before the nasty critters hidden in the sheltered darkness can sink their eager little teeth into me.

“Don’t,” Bree warns, when Rose looks about to follow in my footsteps. “Just… trust me. Don’t.”

Spoilsport. I would never have let anything take a bite out of Rose. That’s my job.

A symbol grown into the gnarly pattern of the bark snags my attention. One only a fae from Autumn would know to look for.

Casually, I lean against it, grinning when a rope ladder drops down, startling her.

“Underlings first.” I wave the soldiers up with a bow.

If they think they’re going to watch Rose’s delicious ass climb up into the canopy, they’re sorely mistaken.

They oblige, and Drystan heads up the ladder after them, but before Rose can follow, Jaro grabs the lower rungs and holds them steady, making it easier for her.

She mounts the rungs, but Bree steps behind her and starts climbing before I can.

No fair.

Pouting, I blink between them, blowing a raspberry down at the cheeky seelie before looking up and grinning at the pure perfection.

So round and biteable, with just the perfect amount of jiggle.

Would she be mad if I blinked away with her clothes so I can appreciate her properly? Wait. Then I’d have to stab the grunts Cressidick sent for seeing her naked… Oh well.

All too soon, the decision is made for me as she passes the lowest layer of branches in the canopy and reaches the walkway grown into the trees that winds through the forest in all directions. The meandering path is just wide enough for our party to travel across in single file. It follows the length of the branches above, suspended at strategic points by lengths of rope.

It’s the crudest of paths—nothing on the sleek, enchanted walkways of Illidwen, or even the cobbled streets of my own minor court—but Rose still gapes at it with wonder as we’re led along. The wobbling motion that the bridges make worries her enough that she clings to the vine rails, though I’d never let her fall.

The soldiers lead us south, away from the water, and soon we reach a particularly tall section of the path, overlooking the rest of the forest as it glows in the red rays of the dying sun. Bathed in blood. Bathed in rot.

“It’s beautiful,” she whispers.

I blink behind her before I can stop myself, using the tight space as an excuse for pressing the hard line of my cock against the cleft of her ass.

“Illidwen has a better view,” I admit. “But there’s something to be said for the knowledge that I could fuck you here and only the valravne would hear you scream.”

Her breath whooshes out of her on a slight gasp, and I still as her tiny hand wraps between us, gripping my length hesitantly through the leather.

A hundred buried instincts rush to the fore, begging me to take her now. Show them all who she belongs to. Let the others watch. Let them see how she screams and writhes as I wrap my hand around her pretty neck and fuck her juicy cunt until?—

“Lorcan.”

My teeth sink hard into my lower lip as the dullahan’s cautioning tone bursts my bubble. I can’t resist leaning forward to lick Rose’s neck, leaving the blood from my wound behind as another mark of claiming.

“What’s that?” Jaro asks, drawing all of our attention away from Rose.

“That’s a gap.” I answer.

Wait.

“Why is there a gap?” There wasn’t one before. How did this happen?

The Forest of Whispers spreads from the Apporas to the Endless Sea. It’s an unbroken line of ancient trees. There are no gaps .

“Clearing the land.” Caed shoves past us without looking at Rose. “The fae like to ambush my father’s troops. His solution was to chop the forest down, tree by tree, and ship the wood back to Fellgotha, since we had no trees of our own.”

Rose’s joy and awe vanishes, her spine stiffening. “How could anyone destroy?—”

“Easily.” Caed keeps moving, catching up to our guides. “They’re in the way of what he wants. Do you know how much food this court has? Not to mention all the gold…”

“Gold?” Rose asks.

“Who do you think feeds the Winter Court?” Drystan growls, like he can’t bear to admit his snowy court is incapable of feeding itself properly. “Winter and Autumn are bound together by more than just unseelie blood.”

Rose turns quiet, her eyes unfocused as she turns to follow the soldiers further through the treetops. Her musing can’t last long, however, because halfway across the next bridge, the cheery sounds of the dying drift through the trees. All of us tense, but the soldiers seem unconcerned.

I peer eagerly over the edge, looking for a gap in the trees through which I might see the battle obviously going on below us. Ultimately, my efforts are wasted, because as we round the next trunk, we’re treated to a glorious view of a village on fire.