Page 126 of Ulune's Daughter

“Great.” Kellan swings her own backpack up onto her shoulder and holds her hand out to me.

This is the first time my mate’s touched me of her own volition.

I grab her hand. The tips of her blue claws prickle my skin. Goosebumps rush up my arm.

Kellan reaches out with her free hand and draws her claws down through the aether. By the Mother, she’s not even trying to hide her power. Is it because Cecile’s still lingering at my side? Or does Kellan just not give a fuck? Maybe when you’re in the middle of becoming a Queen of Faery the opinions of a bunch of academics don’t matter anymore. I like that reason; it would get me fucking something other than my hand much sooner.

Warm sunlight spills into the hallway. Cait almost never walk in the full light of the Summerlands; we’re creatures of shadow. I squint into the light.

Kellan pulls me through the portal she’s opened into Faery. There’s a field of sheep in front of us, grazing on emerald-green grass, with low hills and a castle I don’t recognize in the distance. Saliva pools around my fangs. Piskie sheep are a delicacy. If Kellan wasn’t holding my hand, I’d be slipping into my fur and filling my belly with the tenderest lamb in two worlds.

Kellan skirts the field, striding into the dappled shade of the forest edging the field. The sweet-scented air turns bright with ozone. A burble to our right heralds a stream, rushing over rocks and between tree roots. Kellan keeps to its banks as she winds deeper and deeper into Faery.

We’ve walked in silence through the woods for a good fifteen minutes when she stops abruptly. The hair on the back of my neck lifts when I see what she’s seen: a white-cloaked figure walking down the middle of the stream toward us, bare, blue-clawed feet barely making a ripple on the surface of the water. Eyes the color of fresh blood burn in the darkness of the cloak’s deep cowl. The dappled light filtering through the trees catches the high apple of a cheek, but no other features.

“Kaylen,” the figure says in a soft alto. Despite her quiet tone, her voice ripples through the aether, sending a flight of blue and white butterflies dashing away into the sheep field. A crow caws, harsh and metallic, somewhere in the trees.

Kellan bows, the shadow of her feathered cloak swirling around her shoulders. “Forgive me, I haven’t found your name.”

“My name was lost long ago, but you can call me Didrane. As you are the youngest, I am the oldest.”

Kellan swallows with a click. “Are you here to order me to finish rebuilding?”

Didrane chuckles. “No. I have no power to compel you to do anything here. These are your lands.” She raises an arm, or maybe it’s a wing. A white feather falls out of her cloak and floats toward Kellan. “Accept the feather and if you need to find me for any reason, the feather will guide you.”

Kellan reaches her free hand toward the feather and it shimmies to her, disappearing into the flickering shadow around her wrist. I feel something echo through the aether, a silent scream, a conversation without words, that passes between the two women.

“Will I need to find you?” Kellan asks.

“You’d need Brangwy to answer a question like that,” Didrane responds. “I’m no Seer. But I’m also not opposed to who you may become, which cannot be said for all of our sisters. If you stumble across Brangwy or Kathu in these woods, walk carefully.”

Kellan bows her head. “Thank you for the warning.”

“If you come to find me, your Cait are welcome.” Didrane’s cowl bobs in my direction. “If you must seek out any of our other sisters, leave them behind. As your warriors are your greatest strength, they are also your greatest weakness. There are those who will seek to take them and use them against you.”

Kellan glances at me and offers me a small smile. “I’ll protect them.”

Law will flip his shit if he ever hears her say that. I just smile back at her.

When we turn our heads to look back at Didrane, she’s gone. A snow-white crow caws from the trees above our heads, spreads its wings, and flaps off into the forest.

“Blackey,” Kellan whispers.

“Pardon?” I ask, not sure I’ve heard her correctly.

Kellan shakes her head. “Let’s go.”

She squeezes my hand and leads me onward, up the stream, to where a waterfall tumbles down over a hill of black rock. As I feel the water’s spray on my face, Kellan stops again and draws her claws down through the aether.

We step out into green woods, heavy with the scent of eucalyptus. A massive chestnut tree cuts the glare of a sun that feels brighter than it ever feels in the cool woods of Massachusetts.

Kellan puts her back against the chestnut’s trunk and pulls a flask out of her backpack. She offers it to me. When I take a drink, it’s water, but I can immediately tell it’s the water of Faery. There’s an edge to it that’s both sweet and metallic, like blood. I take several swigs, then pass it back to Kellan. It feels as heavy as I hand it back to her as it felt when I took it.

“Does it ever run out?” I ask her.

She shakes her head as she drinks. She caps the flask and tucks it away. “It will wash away any clinging Mist. I don’t know if walking the Fae Ways affects you; I always come out parched. You won’t need to drink again today, but mortal food won’t have any taste while the Donnwater wets your throat. Have you had it before?”

“No, but I’ve heard about it.”

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