Page 38 of Bound By Darkness

His eyes narrowed, a muscle ticking in his jaw. “We’ve already rested for too long. Faelight is fading and it is not smart to be out here after dark. Woods are known to harbor spies.”

I crossed my arms over my chest. “You can’t do that. You can’t obtain information from me without offering something of yours in return.”

“This isn’t a market exchange. My history doesn’t concern you.”

“As mine doesn’t concern you,” I added.

He stood, wet leaves clinging to his pants. “Apologies for trying to get to know you better. I will refrain from asking you questions in the future.”

I tossed the heavy pack onto my shoulders as I scrambled to stand among the slippery foliage. My legs were still shaking, but the discomfort had subsided slightly.

“Answer the question,” I said again. “Anytime I ask you one, you deflect it. For all I know, you could have earned those scars from killing?—”

“Stop talking.” His hands clenched at his sides, his knuckles gleaming white.

“Or what? You’ll threaten to hurt me? Silence me?” He was a Fae male. All of them were the same—hadto be the same.

Only the air around us whistled.

Why wasn’t he responding? Why wasn’t I on the ground? I was a half-breed insulting a Fae, and he was standing there… stoic. Had he not heard me?

“Are you?—”

“Just because we made a deal does not mean I am interested in negotiating or divulging personal information to you,” he said, his voice flat.

Not an ounce of anger in his tone. Not even aglint of frustration.

“Let’s go,” was all he said as he took a few steps forward.

Silence joined us the rest of the way to the town.

Arilyn’s square bustled with noise.

It was full of merchants and townsfolk as they mulled over the different tents and caravans, flashes of color bright in the dimming faelight.

A bubbling fountain sat in the middle of the square. Bright pink and yellow flowers floated in the crystal clear water as an offering to Aine, the goddess of summer.

Tradition had not been forgotten here as the caravans highlighted the flowers, spreading them among their wares and goods. The flowers were said to bring wealth to those who honored the goddess. Even after centuries, the people refused to abandon tradition as if the gods would stop the curse slowly turning the land to sand.

My eyes roamed over the tents as we walked past, piles of fresh fruit and freshly baked bread watering my mouth. Especially the apple tarts a red-haired woman gestured to, her hands wafting the savory smell directly to me.

I cried as I turned my body away from the sweet smell, my eyes set on the caravan at the edge of the street littered with pink and yellow streamers.

Clothing came first. Properones that would fit my malnourished body. Thanks to Gwen’s tonics and food, the pull and stretch of my muscles didn’t hurt as bad at least. Even the hollows of my cheeks and eyes had started filling out, the color returning to my skin.

I’d have to ask Ivan if he had money to spare. Something told me that if I stole the pouch he’d been trying to keep hidden in his pocket, he wouldn’t be too fond of the gesture.

Brushing hair from my face, I walked around the stone fountain as my eyes wandered the various houses. They were celebrating summer, banners of blue, green, and yellow floating from the windows as I wandered past.

They towered over the quaint square, each house coming to sharp points like a drawn arrow.

A woman stumbled out of one, a large mug of ale in her hand, as a man tugged her back inside. The wooden doors slammed shut behind her.

Scrunching my nose, the stench of ale and piss wandered into the cobblestone street from where I stood.

I hated all ales and anyone who drank the intolerable substance. Not because of the stench, but because of what it did to many who drank it. Of what happened in the prison after the guards had their fill of the fermented wheat.

“Disgusting. I bet you frequent taverns often,” I said as I turned around.

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