I could dig out one of the glow stones Rovann carries in the saddlebags. We haven’t used them much because their light would make us easy to spot in the darkness of night. If I use one now, it might do the same. The other ogres must be dead, and possibly the kelpie, but who knows if there are more ogres?
So I sit in the dark with one hand pressed to Rovann’s chest, the other on Hurtle’s shoulder, the movements of their breathing a constant reassurance. It’s quiet, with only the tiny rustles of nighttime creatures stirring the underbrush.
Then a scuff from behind me sets my heart racing.
I grab Rovann’s sword and leap to my feet. It’s so heavy, the tip wavers in the air, and I have no idea how to use it, but I refuse to back down. No one’s going to hurt my guys.
A tiny wink of blue, then another. A high-pitched whistle sounds as the flock of pixies flies out from behind a distant tree, their blue light lovelier than ever because it means hope.
“Over here!” I yell.
Something large crashes through the branches of the fir trees, bursting out into the open. It’s an orc, huge and green and bearded. He rides a black unicorn with golden eyes, and the flock of pixies surrounds them both, lighting the small clearing.
A sob of relief leaves me, and the tip of the sword drops to the ground. “Help him!”
“Of course I’ll help him.” His deep voice sounds gruff as he drops to the ground beside Rovann. “He’s my brother.”
“You’re Dravarr! Rovann told me about you.”
He grunts and starts examining Rovann, checking each injury.
The unicorn nuzzles Hurtle, her deep alto laced with affection. “What did you do this time, you big fool?”
“He healed Rovann,” I say.
“That would explain the coma.” She turns her golden eyes on me. “Who—andwhat—are you?”
“I’m Olivia. I’m human.” I set Rovann’s sword down.
“I’m Midnight.” Up close, the whorls of her horn glint with gold, and similar highlights show in her main and tail. “There aren’t any humans in Faerie. How did you get here?”
“The Moon Goddess brought me.” I lift my chin. “I’m Rovann’s moon bound bride.”
The orc grunts, staring up at me. “We haven’t had one of those in centuries.”
“It’s true,” I say. “Rovann told me so himself.”
“I do not doubt you.” He slides his hands under his brother and stands. “I’m simply amazed. The goddess has been quiet of late, but a moon bound bride means we have her favor once again.”
He drapes Rovann over Midnight’s saddle, and before I can ask, he lifts me up behind Rovann. “Get them back to the village and Gerna. I’ll watch over Hurtle.”
Instead of answering, the unicorn heads off, trotting through the trees without warning.
I yelp at the first scratch and hunch over Rovann, burying my face against his back to avoid the slap of tree branches. I’ll put up with anything if it means he’ll be okay.
An hour later, we break out of the firs and blue birch and into a different type of woods. Huge trees as wide as houses fill the area. No branches break the smooth bark of their lower trunks for the first twenty feet, but after that, they sprout thickly, each covered in plate-sized leaves shaped like hearts.
I sit upright. “Where are we?”
“Moon Blade Village,” Midnight says. Then she cries out in a loud neigh. “Gerna!”
Lights spring on around us, spilling from windows and opening doors set into the trunks. As we come to a stop in the village square, orcs surround us, multiple hands reaching to pull Rovann from the saddle.
“Get him inside,” an older orc woman says, the snap of command filling her voice. “Gerna!”
“On my way.” A young woman runs after the ones carrying Rovann, her arms cradling a large satchel with medicinal herbs poking out of the top.
The older orc stops by Midnight, her shrewd eyes taking me in. She’s dressed in leather pants and a deep-blue tunic decorated with a twining vine of embroidery at the hem. The hilt of a sword rises over one shoulder, and she’s as large as any of the men. There’s something of Rovann in her face, and I know before she even says, “I’m Leyna, Rovann’s mother. What are you to him?”