Page 25 of Shade of Ruin

Underneath the awe of doing actual magic, the drum still pounds in my chest, and I can’t stop thinking of the way it felt to have the Shade’smagicmoving over my skin and under my tunic. Down my pants… I can’t imagine how it would feel to have hishandsthere.

The shadows fade, and I slide my mother’s ring back on my finger, but then I look down at the third mark on my wrist. Three debts owed to a Fae I don’t know at all. Three times that he’ll have complete control over my actions.

The last of the shadows disappear, and I smile. I’m not just a stupid human anymore. Soon enough, I’ll have skills that will let me survive in this new world, and then I will heal Hazel. Everything has a price, and I’m willing to pay this one.

Chapter 12

Strong walls. That’s the only answer. Strong walls and strength of arms. I alone see the failures of the others. Brenna has been losing herself one walk at a time. Casimir is nothing but cruelty, and Gethin… That one needs to be told he is not an actual dragon. There is a reason that our fathers gave themselves to Calyr…

~King Roderic, personal journals

The village of Aerwynis nothing like what I’d expected. For once, Cole hasn’t been annoyed when I asked him questions while we walked. This little village in the middle of nowhere is one of the few things that breaks that grumpy exterior other than fighting. Hidden many miles off the nearest road, there’s nothing you could see from the sky that would suggest people lived here.

Massive oak trees grow all around, and the houses are built under them, hidden under their thick branches. Unlike Blackgrove, none of the houses are much more than cottages, but they’re well hidden. No paint or bright colors. No paths or roads. There aren’t even any fences to keep livestock or farms to grow crops. It’s as primitive as I could imagine a village being.

Who would want to live like this? So secluded and with no niceties? Without livestock, there’d be no milk or consistent meat. Without farms, the winters would be brutal.

Plus, why would anyone care about this specific village, anyway? There are plenty of villages between here and Draenyth.

For being so secluded, it’s in a good location. I can smell the water in the air that must come from a nearby lake. The massive oak trees provide plenty of shade, and I’m reminded of the forests around Blackgrove with how thick the tree coverage is. Nowhere else along the way has the coverage been this thick, and I suspect that at least some part of that comes from Fae magic.

And the breeze that comes off the nearby hills is a welcome respite from the summer heat. The scents of the forest are everywhere instead of the dirty smells of most villages. Instead of smelling like humans and livestock, the only scents are pine and oak trees. It smells like life and safety and peace to me.

Those are all thoughts I have before I’ve met anyone from Aerwyn. The first “person” I meet is a gnome. I’ve never met a gnome, but they’re hard to mistake. He has a thick beard, short stature, and a rather unfriendly expression on his face as he walks out of the little under-the-oak-tree cottage. His eyes are focused on his feet as if he needs to be sure where he’s placing them. He has a thick brown beard that hangs nearly to the ground, and he’s wearing a brown and green stocking cap. Little tufts of matching brown hair stick out the side.

Cole steps toward him, silent as always, but this time, he’s got a wide smile on his face. He says, “Morning, Duncan,” without alerting the gnome to his presence, and the reaction is more than a little surprising.

The gnome jumps, leaping almost three feet in the air like a cat. His stocking cap falls off on his way back to the ground, but he catches himself rather than falling over. It’s comical and so unexpected, but Cole doesn’t seem surprised at all. “Master Cole,” he says, in surprise and respect, and then he bends down to pick up the stocking cap, only to ball it in his hands. “Didn’t see you there. Haven’t seen you around in quite some time. Had thought you might have forgotten about us.”

Cole’s lip turns up. “That is the point of Aerwyn, isn’t it? For everyone to forget you?”

Duncan giggles nervously, but he smiles, and it’s an honest smile. I remind myself that the High Fae rule the other Fae. Regardless of who Cole really is, he’s still a High Fae, and that means that people like Duncan will always show him respect. The smile, though, isn’t a requirement.

“Are Darian and Lee still here?” Cole asks.

Duncan nods emphatically, most of his body moving along with his head. “They were up late last night. Darian caught a drakeling, and… it has been exciting.”

I blink. Adrakeling? What in Lysara’s name is a drakeling? I try not to act like I have no idea what that is, but it doesn’t seem to matter because Duncan’s eyes never leave Cole’s. It’s like when I’ve seen the young merchants talking to Uncle Trevor. He’s far richer than anyone else in Blackgrove, so when he’s there, he’s the only one that matters.

Except that with Duncan, I don’t think it has anything to do with money.

Cole sighs, and his shoulders slump. “A drakeling? Really? Is everyone still breathing?”

Duncan nods again. “Darian made sure we stayed far enough away. He was very responsible.”

“Responsible and catching a drakeling are not two things that should be in the same sentence,” Cole mutters. Then he gives Duncan a wide smile. “Thank you. It’s good to see you again, but I’d better go find Darian and Lee, even if I think I’d prefer just going straight back to Draenyth now.”

Another giggle slips from Duncan’s lips. He pulls the stocking cap back on his head and goes back to what he was doing, namely walking down the path with his eyes focused on the ground.

“You’re friends with gnomes?” I ask.

“Everyone in Aerwyn knows me, Wyrdling. I built this place for them. Well, Darian, Lee, and I did.” He starts to say something else, but then he shrugs. “You’ll see what I mean.”

Cole built a village? For gnomes? That doesn’t exactly seem like the grumpy Cole I’ve gotten to know.

He leads the way further into the village, and as we pass the secret houses, more people take notice that we’re here, and one by one, they leave their homes, falling behind us as we walk. A little trail of Fae of countless types. Some I know. Others I don’t. Centaurs, goblins, pixies, brownies, and even a dryad. Each one of them smiles as Cole glances at them, and he smiles back. Not at all like the broody High Fae that I’ve gotten so used to.

In fact, it almost seems like he’s happy here, like he enjoys the people of Aerwyn. They all follow us, a parade of beings I’ve ever only heard of in storybooks. Cole doesn’t introduce me to anyone or even talk to anyone other than Duncan. They don’t approach him, but they all want to see him, to be near him.

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