Page 37 of How To Woo A Warrior Orc

Idoubt anyone else can tell how anxiety-riddled Caelan is right now. Kieran, perhaps, though the prince isn’t known for being either empathetic or caring.

So I kiss my sweet witch goodbye with the promise of another night together hanging between us.

“Rowdy Wolf?” Kieran asks, glancing at the neighboring pub’s already busy exterior.

“The inn,” Caelan says in a clipped tone.

Kieran casts one forlorn look at the pub, but to his credit, he doesn’t argue at all with Caelan’s order.

We’re quiet as we walk down the cobbled streets to the outskirts of Wild Oak Woods. The many citizens we pass greet us by name or with a smile, and it warms my heart to see evidence that the three of us, despite our status as newcomers, have been welcomed into this small hamlet.

“This is a good place,” I rumble as Caelan’s new inn comes into view at the very end of the street. “I won’t allow the Dark Queen to ruin Wild Oak Woods.”

The inn, which seemed to be nearly crumbling only a few weeks ago, now soars up from the ground, delicate archways supported by fluted columns, a rainbow’s array of stained glass coloring the windows, and a wraparound porch that’s nothing like what was there.

Hash, the old innkeeper, besides turning out to be a Seelie, had a few tricks up his sleeve where his inn was concerned.

I frown.

“Itisa good place.” Kieran’s voice rings out in agreement, unexpectedly. He’s agitated, his wings rustling as we walk up the wildflower-lined path to the porch steps. “I won’t let her ruin it.”

Caelan shifts his gaze, and we share a surprised look.

It’s not like Kieran to take a stand. On anything. Or anyone.

We reach the front door, and Caelan opens it. Out bounds Boner, the small dog Caelan inherited with the inn from old Hash. Unfortunate name aside, he’s a good dog, though I can’t say I like being licked by him.

“The timing is odd,” Caelan says slowly, picking up the pup and scratching him behind the ears. “All of this,” he says, jerking his head to indicate the inn.

It’s no longer old and falling apart, the illusion so deftly woven over the place that my two fae companions hadn’t even noticed. All that remains since Hash left is an old, beautiful building at the edge of the Ever Forest, well-preserved, luxurious—and nothing like the place we sought refuge in when we first arrived here.

I’m not magical, not like my two friends, and certainly not like Piper. Still, I lived in the Underhill long enough to recognize the tang of it on the air when I encounter it.

“Why is it here?” I ask.

Caelan sits down at the long wooden trestle table that dominates the large, cathedral-like room, steepling his long fingers before covering his face with them.

“It’s the Ever Forest,” Kieran says casually, leaning against the large desk designed to greet guests. His wings buzz ever so slightly. “I don’t know why Caelan hasn’t said that outright, but that’s the reason.”

Caelan’s mouth pinches into a thin, irritated line. “We don’t know that.”

“This is a waypoint.” Kieran continues like Caelan hasn’t spoken.

“Waypoints are fiction. Myths.” Caelan pinches the bridge of his nose. “This is just… a house.”

“You are being reductive,” Kieran counters. “You did not study at the Underhill Academy.”

“Here we go again,” I mutter, swallowing a laugh. I reach for my dagger, fully prepared to sharpen it and give my hands something to do while Kieran and Caelan argue, then I remember I no longer carry it at my hip. I don’t need to.

“Kieran—” Caelan begins.

“No, I am right about this.” Kieran gives Caelan a vicious, angry look I’ve never seen on the careful prince’s face.

I have, however, seen that same look on his mother’s face, right before she ripped a courtier’s heart out with her bare hands.

My eyebrows rise, and I cross my arms over my chest.

Kieran’s wings rise up, vibrating angrily behind him, and my heart begins to beat faster. Dread ices my veins.

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