Page 87 of The Forbidden Fae King

Silvan approaches us from the far side of the bridge, his quick steps slowing to a pause as he notices the dynamic between us. Aldrin nods and he joins us.

“We have captured two corrupted baby spriggan to bring to the court as evidence,” Silvan reports.

“Good,” Aldrin says, utterly deflated. “Send them ahead to be held in the stables at Cyprien’s residence in the capital, so they will beready when we arrive. Make sure you stress to the guards who transport them that utter discretion is required.”

Silvan gives a curt nod in response.

Aldrin looks to me, then to his man. “We will leave for the road immediately.”

Excitement curls within my stomach. It is everything I have ever wanted. Endless possibilities of discovery stretch out before me, but it is all tainted with the sick, oily feeling of the complete loss of what I could have had with Aldrin.

Chapter 25

Keira

Aldrin stands before the immense Watchtower Tree we visited before infiltrating Cyprien’s camp, conversing with its five tree nymphs. They are dwarfed by its towering height. My eyes glide up to the canopy at its peak and a shiver runs down my spine at the memory of the first time Aldrin touched me up there on the defensive platforms.

It is getting harder to hate him. To remember that he broke my trust.

“I didn’t believe you when you told me how big this tree is.” Caitlin rides up next to me, her horse nudging mine with its nose. I stroke the mane of the horse I ride bareback absentmindedly, then quickly pull my hand back. Not a horse. A kelpie. Kai.

They became fervent when they realized our mission, insisting we ride them despite how uncomfortable it makes me. Aldrin gently pushed the idea, considering how slow we walk and how quick we tire. We agreed to ride, sometimes.

“Five trees,” I explain to Caitlin. “Intertwined. That is why there are five nymphs.”

Caitlin frowns. “Five…”

“Some don’t have enough power to form bodies and leave theirtrees.” A deep sadness fills me for those low fae trapped within their bodies and unable to travel.

Enough of their singsong voices and Aldrin’s deep rumble travel to us, that I know he is trying to convince them to join us.

I watch Klara and Drake enter the watchtower carrying the jackets we borrowed, then walk back out with the equipment and supplies we left behind. All five of the tree nymphs return to their trunks, their flesh becoming engulfed in moving vines and branches and bark, until they are no longer visible.

My heart sinks and I wonder if Aldrin has failed here, until he shoots a wide, boyish grin back at Cyprien. One that fades from his lips as his gaze shifts to mine.

Two nymphs materialize out of the watchtower, each holding their heart-stones that shine with brilliant green light.

One has hair of wiry twigs colonized by yellow lichen and vines with golden leaves encircling her wooden limbs. As she places her heart-stone into her chest, a great change takes over her body, bark turning into skin that is highly freckled and tattooed with the vines that had been real a moment ago. She wears a crown of twigs encircling a face akin to a high fae and the lichen has turned into tightly curled blond hair.

The male nymph has blunt woody spikes jutting from his elbows, knees and spine, with cascading horns of curling branches on his head. His entire body is modestly covered in spongy, yellow lichen. When his form combines with his heart-stone, golden skin covers his body, also freckled, and long white dreadlocks cascade down his back. Spines still jut from his skin, but they are muted in size.

Somehow the nymphs are even more beautiful in this form.

Aldrin leads us with renewed purpose. We travel for days through endless woods, and when the sun sets, we camp under stars visible through the canopies. There is peace in the fresh air that rustles through my hair and the scent of bruised vegetation rising from beneath my boots. I could lose myself in this court.

A forest of ancient trees surrounds us. Staircases of red and orange-capped mushrooms the size of a dinner plate colonize thewide trunks and sprout between tall roots that snake along the ground.

Creatures leap and scurry across those platforms as we pass. The black, furry forms of the puka with pointed ears scramble up the branches. Tiny goblin-like fae with long beards, pale skin and wearing mushroom hats run to small doors in the trunk and slam them shut.

A shudder passes through me at the sight of their fingers ending in long claws. They may be shorter than my forearm, but I wouldn’t want one dropping on me from the trees.

Over days, the landscape changes. The trees become tall and thin, like arrows jutting out of the ground and a rainbow of flowers bloom in the spaces around them. Tulips in shades of purple, pink, and red. Daffodils in white, yellow, and orange. Irises and hyacinth. Sprites of tiny white light dart between them as bees would in my own realm. The floral scent of pollen fills my head.

When we stop for lunch, I have Caitlin weave flowers into my hair. Aldrin approaches, carrying a mug of hot herbal tea for each of us, but he freezes at the sight of me. The motion is so brief, a mere hesitation in his step, but I catch it along with the fire that flares within his eyes, then dies.

“You look beautiful,” he utters, as though he cannot stop himself.

I hardly notice as Caitlin gets up and leaves us, muttering angrily.

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