Page 390 of Kingdoms of Night

That was all she needed for now. They had escaped the Brunes and hadn’t perished in the sea.

“Oooooo,” a female voice echoed from the trees near the path.

Viridi looked into the branches of a mossy maple. “Ah, Dew. How are you today?”

Isa followed his gaze and tried to see who was up there.

A branch snapped, leaves shuffled violently, then a person appeared at his feet. It was a short elven woman with her hair gathered into one large knot at the back of her head. She squinted at Isa like she had trouble seeing.

“I am well, and thank you for asking, Prince Viridi,” Dew said. “I like speaking in the common tongue like this.” Her smile widened as she looked back to Viridi. “Who are your guests?”

“Our ship wrecked,” Nico said, not even trying to hide his burning curiosity at seeing such a small person. “Those two,” he said, pointing at Prince Werian and Princess Rhianne, “are royalty who just showed up. By accident.”

“I like to think we can magically sense when people are in need and we hie to their sides to aid them,” Werian said, grinning.

“No, it was all chance,” Rhianne said. “But a happy happenstance, I’d say.”

Dew laughed loudly. “Yes. You’ll be housing them in your keep, Prince?” Dew asked Viridi.

“Indeed.” His gaze slid to Isa and the heat in his dark eyes made her blush.

His fingers brushed over her arm, and events that she hadn’t experienced flashed through her mind. Viridi running along the beach with Dew and another dryad elf. Viridi holding the hand of a woman. His mother. Somehow, she knew that fact. The love between them fluttered through her own heart and his grief over her loss sang through her soul. She gritted her teeth and tried to drive the images and sounds from her head. What was this strange magic?

“Oh, I see how it is.” Dew elbowed Isa roughly, bringing her back to the present. “You enjoy that, my lady.” She scanned Isa’s torn and poor clothing and confusion flickered over her face. But then that emotion cleared as quickly as a cloud on a windy day, leaving behind that smile again. “Low folk like us should leap at a chance to see what a royal’s bed feels like, eh?” She laughed like a tavern wench.

Isa almost wished she were back on the ship. Almost. She coughed to cover her embarrassment. “I wouldn’t…”

Viridi seemed unperturbed by Dew and her erroneous guess that Isa and he would be … well … he continued down the path, the trees shifting in his presence as if to greet him. They likewise flicked their leaves in pleasure at Werian’s appearance too, which made Viridi raise his eyebrows, showing he was impressed by the fae’s influence on the forest.

“I would,” Dew said, unfortunately taking up the embarrassing conversation once more.

“I’m sorry, but who are you?” Isa asked.

“The hermit.” Dew nodded and pulled Isa back a bit. “Give me a moment with your lady, my prince?”

Viridi nodded and walked on. The others, led by Viridi’s quick pace, continued and gave them privacy.

Dew stared into Isa’s eyes like she was searching for a truth hidden there. “I explore matters of deep spirit.”

“As well as pining over the dryad prince’s attentions?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

Dew snorted a laugh. “Pining. Funny. Since we’re dryads. I’ve missed humans. You’re soridiculous.” The way she said the word made it sound more like a compliment than an insult. “He most likely saved you from his father the king, yes?”

“I suppose he did,” Isa said. “The king seemed inclined to imprison us, at the least.”

“You don’t talk like a servant, but you’re dressed like one.” Dew grabbed Isa’s hand and turned it over, examining her many calluses. “And you have the hands of a servant.”

“I was adopted into a tapestry weaver’s home. I was taught to tally and to read and write three languages. I’m not ignorant. Not of everything, anyway.”

“Well, seems to me you owe the dryad prince a bit of fun.”

“Like stars I do.”

“I like that Wylfenden accent of yours. Now, calm down, child. You can’t tell me he’s not alluring.” Dew rubbed her hands together and regarded Viridi’s backside without even trying to hide her appreciation. She even let out a quiet, low whistle.

“He has talons, or thorns, for fingers,” Isa hissed in a whisper, wishing Dew would drop this mad conversation.

But she only wiggled her eyebrows. “Decidedly monstrous, yes.” Then she purred like a big cat and bit her lip.

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