Page 97 of Defy the Fae

“My point is that patience should be the least of your chores.”

“Fantastic. As if Cypress and Moth aren’t already thorns in my side. Now I’m being lectured by a human.”

“Ah, ah, ah,” I interrupt. “That wasn’t a lecture.”

A quote hops off Juniper’s tongue. “Choose diversions wisely, lest they lead to downfall.”

I nod. “Thatwas the lecture.”

But my words snap the Fae out of his rant. The orange vine markings crinkling through his forehead smooth out when he sees me. “Puck.”

“Tinder.” Grinning, I plant my hand on his shoulder. “And here, I thought my woman had operated alone.”

“Well,” Juniper admits while coming to stand beside me. “I had a task that warranted help. Tinder came to my aid.” Knowing he’ll squirm at a verbal expression of gratitude, she offers an appreciative glance instead. “I knew I could rely on you.”

Her compliment brings a rosy tint to the Fae’s epicene features. He twists and plucks something off the grass, then nocks his proud chin and extends it to me. “We thought you’d miss these.”

Another weight crumbles from my chest. I take the longbow and quiver, holding the weapons up to a shaft of starlight. Apart from a few scratches, the yew wood is intact.

The mortals either forgot to confiscate my weapons while carting me and Cerulean away, or they plainly hadn’t seen the archery lying in the high grass.

Juniper suspected that might have happened, since our band couldn’t remember us wielding our weapons at the point when they left. That much, she’d gotten out of them.

On the way to Reverie Hollow, Juniper had recruited Tinder for a mission to scout the area where I’d landed in the trap, in case anything had been left behind. Being slender enough to pass through unseen, Tinder had also reclaimed Cerulean’s discarded javelin.

Lifting the archery for too long aggravates my shoulder, so I lower my arm and bow my head at Tinder. “A favor well done.”

He beams. “It wasn’t a favor—this time.”

I laugh, the sound rumbling from my chest. But then a gasp cuts off the mirth.

Tinder and I glance at Juniper, whose eyes have dipped to something behind me. What she sees drains the peach complexion from her skin. That’s when I realize how far I’d turned toward the Fae.

Juniper’s haunted gaze crawls across my naked back, taking in what’s sure to be a mess of pulped skin dried with blood.

My tongue is about to launch into a lame, sugar-coated explanation that she’ll never believe. But instead, it’s Tinder’s turn to hiss.

“Fables eternal,” he splutters, disgust etching his voice. “And they call us abominations.”

A sigh blows from my mouth. Like my woman, I’d contest the point if I had the energy. My kin are just as guilty of brutality. Our cruelty isn’t much different; it’s just covered in a layer of pixie dust.

In our world, low-hanging fruit will suffocate as much as cure. Riddles are amusements as much as they’re deceptions. The fauna are as sacred as they are feral.

There’s beauty and viciousness here, just like there is in the mortal realm. The viciousness in Faerie merely looks prettier from a distance.

I could say all this. But instead, I mutter over my shoulder, “Tinder.”

He nods and harnesses the javelin. “I’ll…bring this to Lark.”

“Not just that. Tell them we’re alive, but they still have Cerulean.”

I don’t have the strength yet to call them through the roots. Tinder can do that, though manifesting means he won’t need to.

Juniper hands her sister’s makeshift key to the Fae and lists meticulous directions to Cerulean’s cage, including every snare the poachers laid out. Because Tinder is skilled at remembering details, he doesn’t need them written down. He dashes into the pines, his marten tail bouncing behind him, then fading as he evanesces.

After that, my woman and I are alone.

22

---