Page 132 of Kiss the Fae

I whirl and race up the stairs, my heart hammering. At the top, I reach the alcove, which disintegrates to unveil the labyrinth entrance.

I bypass the threshold and veer toward the rotunda. At The Parliament of Owls, I halt before the throne, my hair scattering around my head. The chair sits empty, but the raptors perch on its arms and crest rail. They observe me calmly, their medallion eyes slanting in recognition and admiration.

I bow, sinking to the emblem carved into the ground, the mountain skewered by a javelin—and the javelin wrapped in a whip. He’s no longer a ruler, but the engraving remains a fixture, along with an addition, as if it’s become part of lore.

Dazed, I prostrate myself further to show my gratitude. “I’m honored.” Then I rise. “And…if it’s not too much trouble…I need your help. Any chance I can hitch a ride? I know the way, but it’s a tad far from here.”

A subtle hoot brushes through the silence. A belt of air sways over the vista, carrying the avian call.

Seconds later, Tímien skims the range. He shifts, his ear tufts cutting through clouds glazed in nightfall, and swerves my way. When he lands, the regal owl greets me with a bemused expression. I rise and slide my palm over his bronze quills, the fringe glinting and sleek.

“Will you take me to ’im?” I whisper.

***

Flying through the air, I unleash the loudest, most savage howl. My arms splay wide, and I fling back my head, and it feels so very right. It feels like another type of home.

There was a time when I thought I fit into only one world. But then, I’ve never been good at following the rules.

Curtains dance in the archways of The Fauna Tower. White and teal starlight trickles onto the lawn. When we land, I kiss Tímien’s head, startling the creature, and launch from his back. The second my boots hit the soil, I wrestle to get them off my feet, hopping in place and grunting, craving the grassy texture under my soles.

At last, I sprint toward the wild park. The hummingbirds flit across the hedges, and the canary tweets from its nest, and the hawks keep vigil in the treetops, and the antelope capers around me. I stop, happy to greet them. After that, I hustle down the trellis paths and around lanky spear trees and rowans and—I jerk to a standstill.

Moth blocks the trail, her silken wings spread like a barricade and her papery hands fisting on her hips. Combs bite into her tumbleweed hair, and her feet are bare like mine. The marigold ribbon dress fluttering down her runty frame compliments her milk-and-honey complexion.

The cougar slinks from the hedges and slides along my calves, her peridot eyes sparkling. I kneel and scratch behind her ears while keeping vigilant of her enthusiastic paws. Once satisfied, the feline prances off to join the mountain goat in a game of chase.

I gain my feet. Moth must have heard me coming, because she hardly bats an eyelash, her topaz irises slicing and dicing my face apart. She puffs out her chest and sizes me up. “You didn’t say good-bye.”

I blink. Hell if that isn’t the last thing I’d expected.

Her grumpy face creases with offense, yet her pupils glitter with hurt. The trinkets she’d taken from me hang from her dainty frame. The jute bracelet wrapped around one wrist, the string pouch of stones wrapped around the other, the rope necklace of chestnuts, and the pressed flowers newly pasted to her arms.

Despite her surly expression, guilt pinches me, along with a balmy sensation that nestles in my chest. Although there’d been no chance—I hadn’t expected to leave so fast—I regret not saying good-bye.

Just hadn’t thought she would, too.

It’s awkward being nice to each other instead of being wise asses, and Moth’s got her chin hiked to the heavens, so I do her a favor and shrug. “Guess I’m not that good at leaving.”

“Are you better at staying, mortal?”

“Pretty certain, whippersnapper.”

She huffs. “We’ve never had a human live amongst our kin. It’s a controversy, to be certain. Hardly anyone’s acknowledging us, as it is. They’ve shunned him, including the ones who defended his actions at The Lost Bridges.”

Anger hardens my jaw. Despite what we revealed and proved, despite what Cerulean did during The Trapping, and despite the fauna’s support, the mountain Fae have snubbed their former ruler for binding himself to a human.

Well. My village would do the same thing to me, if they found out.

“No matter,” Moth says, as if trying to ease the blow. “However much Cerulean cares about the ones who sided with him in the battle, he’s not mourning the loss of those who tried to attack his beloved. Notwithstanding, we’re equipped to handle the rebuffs. We’re Solitaries, after all, and the fauna haven’t nixed him. They welcome his counsel, no matter what his kin think.”

“Maybe it’s high time things change,” I suggest.

“Eventually,” she hopes. “They might yet, in time.”

In which case, I’m not gonna sit by and let them judge us, and neither will he. So what if it takes a while? We’ll prove our link is enduring, as strong as any bond, able to tough it out. Because if we don’t, nothing will improve in either world.

Someday, mortals will demand another reckoning with them unless we find a way to bridge the gap, unless every being recognizes what we have in common and admires what we don’t. There’s a crossroad between magic, humanity, and nature. It’s our job to find that place, to remember we’re all creatures of this earth, living and breathing amongst the fauna.

---