Page 69 of Beneath the Cursed Veil

I shrugged. “It’s a long story.” It wasn’t, but I wasn’t sharing anything with Gin, if that was even his real name. I pivoted the conversation, trying my luck with a different question. “So, where are we going?”

Gin tilted his head, eyeing me for a moment. “We’re on our way to the Summer’s Heir.”

“Yup. Summer air. Cool. I have no idea what that means or where it is.” I looked around at the covered wagon, making notes of a few small bags of what I assumed were supplies, two sleeping rolls, a lantern, and a few skins of water. They traveled often. “I’m guessing your portal wasn’t strong enough to just take us to wherever summer air is? I don’t recall seeing that on a map.”

“It’s not a place.”

Portals could still get close to a location where someone was, so my assumption that they didn’t have a strong enough portal was probably right. “Can you elaborate?”

The brownie shook his head, chuckling at my response. “You’ll see when we get there.”

“And when will that be?” I asked, but Gin didn’t answer. Instead, he took off his glove once more andreopened his journal, continuing to sketch, ignoring my question. I sighed in frustration.

No wonder he had to stop drawing. It was freezing. He needed time to warm his hands back up. I didn’t have gloves, a cloak, or any winter wear. A long-sleeved shirt, leggings, and a cardigan. That was it. I was lucky I had put my boots on before they arrived. I had a feeling they wouldn’t have been thoughtful enough to grab them on our way out. They’d at least brought a thick blanket for me, but it was barely enough to keep the bitter air from seeping into my bones. I could feel the burn of the cold eating away at my exposed skin. This whole eternal winter thing was a real bitch and a half when you were stuck outside in it.

The painful silence was only broken by the creak of the wagon wheels, the horse’s hooves crunching through the snow, and the scratching of charcoal on parchment. It was almost like a form of torture. The slow kind, meant to drive you crazy. Not like using a stun gun, for instance, which I would kill for right now. I’d jam it right in that stupid little brownie’s throat.

I tilted my head back, closing my eyes as I hummed. Soft words followed; the lyrics of a song my record player had spun a hundred times before. I sighed, letting the tune fade.

“You have a good voice,” the brownie mumbled, glancing up from his drawing. “Why did you stop?”

“The entertainment will continue with one small payment of freedom,” I suggested, lifting my bound hands, fluttering my lashes as I tilted my head.

“Forget it,” Gin said with a shake of his head.

“What about the necklace I’m wearing? Given to me by the king himself.” I waggled my eyebrows. “You could sell it. Make a lot. Let me go. Everyone wins.”

Without answering, he shut his book, setting it next to him, and let out a long sigh before closing his eyes.

I breathed out slowly, wondering if I could wrap my hands around his neck and choke him, then sneak out the back of the wagon. Flexing my fingers, I stretched and tested what kind of reach I had, and the results were less than stellar. It was unlikely I could hold him long enough when my wrists were bound. If I couldn’t finish the job, I had a feeling I would end up clubbed upside the head.

The carriage slowed before the wheels ground to a halt. The front cloth lifted, showing Gertrude’s face.

“Oi!” The peppiness in her voice at the palace had vanished. A hoarse snarl replaced it when she shouted, “Get your ass out, Brother. We’re in Warwick.”

I blinked, staring at the spot where her face had disappeared. Gin’s demeanor had changed for the better, and he seemed more subdued and less cranky than the kitchen servant I’d met. His sister, on the other hand, had the temperament of a wild boar. I slowly turned to him, my eyes wide. I mouthed, “what the fuck?”

“Charming, isn’t she?” He smiled politely, offering no further statement on the issue. I shook my head, trying to shrug off the emotional whiplash. Gin moved forward to take the blanket from me and placed his gloved hand on my shoulder.

“Meera, is it? Stay here. Don’t try to escape.” His brown eyes glowed as I felt the power of his persuasion settle in. Small fae didn’t have persuasion, which meant he had high fae blood in him. Go figure. Apparently hybrids were a dime a dozen around here.

I gave a tiny nod as I looked into his brown eyes, my gaze flickering to the hand on my shoulder. Gin smiled before pulling himself up, pocketing his sketchbook. “We’rejust getting some supplies for the road. We’ll be back soon, and I’ll return your blanket.”

As he exited from the back, the cloth flapped closed and my body shook. The air was freezing. I had to make a quick decision. Staying in the back of the wagon wasn’t an option. I had no knowledge of why I was taken, or where I was going, but I wasn’t extended an invitation. Being drugged and bound didn’t lend toward good intentions. Though, if I didn’t find a safe place quickly, there was a good chance I would freeze to death.

There was an upside. We were in Warwick. I knew nothing of the city except it was a town somewhere in the northern region of Faerie. More buildings meant more places to hide.

Gin wasn’t nearly strong enough to keep me under his control for long. While my own magic was bound, my will was not. I felt my body relax, smirking as I began to scoot myself toward the flaps at the back of the wagon.

“Pair of fools, they are,” I whispered to myself, using one of my small fangs to start breaking threads on the rope. I didn’t have time to fully unbind myself though, not if I planned to escape.

A door jingled nearby, and I waited, listening to the noises outside the wagon. Gertrude’s shrill and angry voice filtered outside as she argued with a shopkeeper, trying to haggle down the price of whatever she was buying.

I peeked out, spotting them through the window of a shop, their backs turned, her arms flailing as she yelled.

Slipping out, I bolted, dipping immediately into an alley. The winds cut through my shirt and sweater, threatening to stop me in my tracks, but adrenaline kept me going.

If ever I made a revenge list, those two goblin shitheads were on top.

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