4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

"A fae owing you a debt can be as bad, if not worse, than you owing them a favor." – Lord Quincy, Seventh Lord of Sídhetír.

E arly morning fog covered the fields around Elmbury and the road to Byrne Manor. The crisp air promised a pleasant fall day. I buttoned my tailored jacket over the worst blood stains and smoothed a hand down my trousers. I'd been able to get some of the blood off, but with close inspection, someone would notice the rust-colored streaks that would not come free. Not to mention, I'd lost my hat in the woods when I tripped over the fae, and I'd stripped off my gloves at some point, leaving them who knows where.

When I awoke this morning, the fae was gone. The cloth bandage had been wound around my forearm, and when I took it off, I received another surprise—a tattoo. Thorny vines started at my wrist and disappeared up my arm. How far? I didn't know. I couldn't roll up my sleeve far enough to see the entirety of the mark.

Iris had rushed around the cottage like a chicken with its head cut off when she saw it. Claiming I was as good as cursed. She'd lamented my kind heart, for it had led me to certain doom. However, even with her concern, she had taken the time to make several comments about her wisdom in not helping the dark fae.

I scoffed at the thought of a curse. If the dark fae wanted to harm or kill me, he could've done so with far less trouble than cursing me with a tattoo. If there was such a thing. Ridiculous.

I tugged on the sleeve of my jacket. Thankfully, the tattoo was hidden from view by propriety constraints. No one would see me without my shirt, except for if I took a lover. I snorted. I hadn't ever done that, nor did I expect to anytime soon. By the time that particular problem presented itself, I should've managed to fabricate a decent story about why I had a tattoo.

I walked around the side of the estate to the secret gate. I didn't need the footmen at the gatehouse marking my arrival.

With every passing moment, the sun was growing brighter, and with it, the chance of someone discovering my absence increased. The Byrne brothers would know I was gone, because they'd probably looked for me, but the head of staff, Mrs. Kelly, or Lord Byrne would not. Neither would be pleased about my clothes, or the fact I was returning in the wee hours of the morning. While I was no longer a ward of the manor, I had been invited to remain as Oren's aide, and as such, I needed to present myself accordingly.

Thankfully, I didn't have to worry about my reputation or lack of a chaperone as much as if I'd been Oren or any of his unmarried brothers. They were of the gentry and had to worry about such things as well as being forced to wed.

I slipped the black key out of my pocket, thankful the bugger was still there after the vigorous activities of yesterday, and unlocked the gate. My feet knew the way through the maze, and my mind drifted to the dark fae from yesterday.

Over the years, I'd seen many fae due to my proximity to the Byrnes. Most of the fae who came to the manor were light fae. In my relatively short years, I'd only seen a handful of dark fae. How they differed from their lighter cousins, I didn't know.

One major difference I knew was the dark fae drew magic from the moon, unlike the light fae who received their magic from the sun.

An arm snagged my neck, choking me as my focus whipped to my surroundings. Neil stood in front of me, as silent as ever with a wide grin, while Nevan proceeded to ruffle my short hair.

"Where were you?" Nevan questioned, dragging me down since I was a few inches taller than him. "You're wearing the same clothes as yesterday. Did you visit your lover in the village?"

I elbowed him in the gut, and he jerked back with a gasp. Yanking my coat straight, I glared at Nevan and his twin. Both were five years older than I was, but they didn't act like it. "I made myself scarce as Lord Byrne ordered."

"I don't think he intended for you to stay out all night, Aidan," Neil chastised, his voice deep and even as he ran a hand through his dark hair. "We were worried. With this many fae about, Sídhetír is not as safe as normal."

If that wasn't the truth, I didn't know what was.

They all cared about me. I was the adopted younger brother they hadn't wanted or needed, but they took on my care with great aplomb.

"Thank you," I said. "Matters kept me occupied."

"Matters," Nevan repeated, wiggling his eyebrows, and he ruffled my hair again. I shoved his hand away with a frown, which made him laugh. "What matters do you have?"

The question didn't need answering, because they would never believe me if I told them I wasn't with this fictitious lover they'd concocted, and I had no intention of telling them the truth. Knowing of the dark fae's existence would only worry them.

My gaze turned to the growing light. I needed to change before either Nevan or Neil took a close look at my clothes. Flecks of blood were visible on my waistcoat that my jacket did not hide. Streaks of rust from wiping my fingers had left their marks on my thighs.

I frowned at the pair for good measure, and Nevan began to sing about me and my supposed lover as I darted to the manor. I slipped in through a side door and up the stairs as fast as possible without arousing suspicion. Nothing drew attention like running through the halls.

The moment I was in my room, I bolted the door. Thankfully, no one had noticed me besides Nevan and Neil. If either of them had seen the marks on my clothes, they would've had questions. Especially Nevan. He could never help but say what was on his mind.

Methodically, I undressed, separating my blood-stained clothes from the rest. I would have to launder the clothes myself and see if they could be salvaged. If the rust-colored marks wouldn't wash free, I would have to make a trip to the tailor.

When I pulled my white shirt off, I stared at my left arm in the full-length mirror. The black vines started at my wrist, wound up my arm, and danced across my shoulder. Some disappeared, looking like they burrowed into my very skin. Over my left pectoral, they formed a ring. In the center rested a crescent moon with a dark red, seven-pointed star, identical to the one that had been on the fae's sternum.

My fingertips traced the marks, lingering on the crescent moon, which appeared so real. The star glimmered with an internal glow that spoke of its magical origin, and the thorny black vines pulsed with the beat of my heart, occasionally moving.

I didn't know what to make of the tattoo. The dark fae had imbued the magic into my skin before he left, but why? What purpose did it serve?

There was no way to answer the questions unless the fae showed himself and chose to explain, but getting the truth from the fae wasn't easy, according to the stories. It was possible I would never know what the mark meant until it affected me. Hopefully, the tattoo wasn't the curse Iris seemed to think it was.

The late afternoon sun hung overhead as I rode beside Sevrin. After my disappearance yesterday, the brothers decided one of them should accompany me in my exile. Originally, Oren wanted to go with me, but Thomas told him the fae representatives were here for him. Oren didn't seem to appreciate the reminder.

Sevrin's choice of activity was taking a leisurely ride around the estate, which wasn't surprising. He was always happiest with horses, whether riding or in the stable. He co-owned a profitable horse ranch with his elder brother Phineas in the southern part of Sídhetír, which Lord Byrne had helped them establish.

Since the estate was entailed to the seventh son, the older sons had to make careers for themself, and each of the Byrne brothers had. Sevrin's career of choice kept him closer to Byrne Manor, though he rarely left his ranch.

"Where did you actually go last night?" Sevrin finally asked.

All morning the Byrne brothers had pestered me about my activities, but I hadn't answered. Iris wanted to be kept a secret, and I felt an unexplained need to not speak of the fae. Besides, the whole scenario would worry them more than necessary. If the time came when the magic of the tattoo revealed itself, I would explain what happened.

"Why won't you accept my explanation? I was doing something I would rather keep private."

He snorted, and his horse tossed her head, making her white hair flop to the other side of her tan neck. "Phineas thinks we should. He said you are allowed your privacy."

"Then let me have it."

"Whit believes we should beat it out of you, and I concur," he said, raising a black eyebrow.

"I don't agree."

"I second that sentiment, human," a soft voice whispered, sending chills down my spine.

Sevrin jerked his horse to face the darkened forest and demanded, "Show yourself."

The voice chuckled. "It is not you who can command me, human."

I swore the vines writhed on my arm, digging deeper as the voice spoke. I commanded, "Come out."

Not a moment later, the dark fae slid out from the trees. His void eyes remained on me as he gracefully strode in my direction, his white hair tickling his waist. The dying sunlight made his gray skin even more pallid than I remembered. My horse snorted, pawing the ground as she took a step backward. I patted the mare's neck in an attempt to soothe her, but the horse would not calm.

Slipping from the saddle, I tossed the reins to Sevrin, who gaped at me. While the fae's black shirt allowed me to see the thorny tattoos matching mine, it didn't let me see the injury—though he seemed healed, if his smooth steps were any indication.

"You've recovered?" I asked.

He came closer, forcing me to look up. "Indeed. You showed great kindness yesterday."

"Aidan," Sevrin said, his voice deepening in warning.

"Aidan," the dark fae repeated. "Is that your name?"

I hesitated for a single breath. Fae were said to be able to control people with their true names. I was human. I had no true name. Besides, Sevrin had already told the dark fae my name. "Yes."

"Aidan," he said once again. He placed his long fingers on my cheek, and I swallowed. He brushed featherlight touches over my skin, making shivers slide down my spine. He bent closer, his breath on my ear, as he whispered. "You may call me Cethin."

Rubbing my ear, I tried to banish the unexpected tingles. By the way he phrased it, I assumed Cethin wasn't his name—not that I expected him to give me his true name just because I'd saved his life.

Cethin smiled at Sevrin. It was not a kind gesture. The wide stretch of his lips showed off his impressive canines and made him appear feral. "I will be borrowing Aidan."

"Let him go," he ordered, drawing a pistol as Cethin hooked an arm about my waist.

I tried to step forward, but his hold was made of iron. Cethin drew me into the forest, and Sevrin started to charge after us, but his horse wouldn't go beneath the trees. He dismounted, and my stomach dropped. No one was safe within the forest. It had spared me time and time again, yet here I was ensnared at last. Sevrin couldn't follow us or risk losing himself.

"Stay back, Sevrin."

He hesitated, pistol leveled at Cethin, who continued to pull me along. "I will get a search party together."

Before I could tell him not to, we rounded a tree, and the view of Sevrin and the sloping hills vanished.