Page 59 of When the Woods Go Silent

“Just taking your advice.”

“Well, Tor, it should be obvious, but fucking works better when the human is naked.”

“And awake,” I add, rolling my eyes at him.

“Eh. That one’s not an issue.” He shrugs. Gobbelins aren’t known for the sort of morals humans tend to keep. “But if you’re not going to take advantage of the situation, maybe I could have a go.”

A snarl rips from my throat before I can stop it, giving him more information than I’d like to share. Arlo chuckles, scanning Ruby with a keener interest.

“So she really did catch your attention. Wait... is this your first human?” His eyes spark with unwelcome curiosity.

“Unlike you, the only thing I’m killing is time,” I shoot back, and he flinches. He knows I let him off way too easy for the deaths of those two human women.

“Come by the lodge later, if you want a bit more skin than that,” Arlo says, nodding at Ruby as he turns to go. I know it’s past time to make an example of him, before he decides he’s better than the others.

And I will, but not tonight.

Tonight, I want to stay here with Ruby until she wakes, then take her safely home.

Tonight, I don’t trust the woods or the gobbelins - or the dreamwalker - to leave her alone.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

KIER

Stepping off the rainbow Path that connects Haret and Earth, then entering the edges of the fae lands is a mix of the familiar relief that home brings, and the chafe of responsibility that follows close behind in a one-two punch to the gut.

Aralia is the still most enchanting place I’ve ever seen, seething with powerful magic that’s already buzzing through my blood like a drug. But being home represents everything that traps me here, my hands tied with the silk ropes of scheming noble fae and my patience pricked on all sides by threats of military action and all of the pandering advisers who constantly surround my brothers and me, tripping over each other to offer the best plan of action.

Being a prince is only fun in fairy tales, not in the real fae palace in a time of war.

My steps are unhurried as I cross the vibrant fields dotted with jewel-toned flowers and approach the palace - a vast network of multi-colored trunks and branches so dense they look like a single, massive tree from this distance. I take my time, soaking in Haret’s earth magic until my blood is saturated with it, roaring in my ears. Before I’m even under the canopy of shimmering leaves, though, I see the scowling shadow of mymiddle brother, waiting for me like a blotch of oil spilled on a magical canvas.

“Ronan,” I say when I get close enough, not sure if I’m more annoyed that he obviously knew I was coming, or more relieved that I might not have to enter the palace itself to give my report. With a little luck, I can be back on the Path and headed toward Clearwater without even needing to speak to Brigance.

“Brigance is worse,” Ronan says instead of greeting me, and my teeth clench. Brigance istheworst, and with every day that marches us closer to full-blown war with the gobbelins, he gets even more intolerable.

“And the magic?”

Ronan shakes his head, glaring. “The same. Unstable as fuck. The longer we go without a queen, the worse it’s going to get.”

As if I haven’t been told that ten thousand times. “I fucking know, but I’m not in the mood to be the sacrificial son. Maybe Brig should just choose one of the nobility and get it over with.”

Ronan doesn’t bother to answer. None of us wants to mate with an idiot noble fae who wouldn’t even be able to get the job done. We’ve discussed the options - lack of options - so many times that he shouldn’t even bother bringing it up. None of the nobility actually have the magical strength needed to stabilize Aralia’s magic, no matter how much they pander or promise.

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