Page 26 of Defy the Fae

“All the same, name your favor.”

The equine grumbles with dignity. “We centaurs are healers, but we do not pawn off our assistance on a whim, much less for deals. Our gifts are offered freely. That is our way.” He glances at the heavens, then says, “Long have I wished to view the stars from this point. If you insist, that and the animal’s recovery are reward enough.”

Only Cypress and I can see through the dense canopy to the celestials. Centaurs are intimately acquainted with them, though on a different level from mountain Fae. It’s more spiritual than physical, more divine than fundamental.

The giant Fae shifts his hooves on the planks. “Now tell me why I am standing thousands of feet above my home.”

“Come now,” I say. “Are you implying the view isn’t worth it?”

“Ask someone who’s seen it before,” a feminine voice grunts.

My mouth turns up as I regard the runty figure who flutters into the scene, her paper-thin wings vibrating with umbrage. Moth shoves through the clouds in a maelstrom of resentment. Her gauzy dress cocoons her diminutive shape and makes her look at least five hundred years younger than she is.

My sister-in-arms perches two fists on her hips while glowering at Lark and me. “You left a mess.”

Lark clears her throat. “Right. Sorry about that.”

“No, you’re not. One day, you human nuisance, I’m going to pick off your eyelashes one by one while you sleep. And I will enjoy it.”

Because Moth’s not serious, I atone with a repentant tilt of my lips. “Our apologies, Moth.”

“I’m not your housekeeper, you insatiable juveniles. If you’re going to fuck like rabbits on my turf, at least gather your clothes afterward.”

Fuchsia erupts across Cove’s cheeks, whereas Elixir’s impatient expression doesn’t alter.

Cypress isn’t listening. He’s too busy consulting the stars.

Juniper merely rolls her eyes.

And Puck…well, Puck is Puck. The satyr gives us both a thoroughly impressed look. “My, my, my,” he gushes. “Getting frisky on sanctified grounds? You’ve gone pagan.”

To be clear, Lark and I had satisfied our cravings inside the tower. That aside, we did neglect to retrieve our clothing from the gazebo.

I open my mouth, but Elixir interjects. “At last,” he mutters.

A voluptuous female with silver blue hair saunters from the opposite end of the bridge. Her eyes are as prismatic as crystals, which match the scales capping her dark-skinned shoulders. Sheer, flowing pants buffet her thighs and cinch at her ankles, and a harpoon-shaped lance rests across her back.

After taking stock of the elevation, Coral raises one fluid eyebrow. “This is quite high,” the water Fae announces in a syrupy tone, as if confiding a scandal. “And a positively excessive journey for a summons. But of course—” she bows to a beaming Cove and a restless Elixir, “—my liege’s wish is my command.”

“My wish,” he grouses, “is to stop wasting time and proceed.”

“Mind telling us why you’ve chosen the most elusive region in this mountain for a meeting?” Moth proposes, her rump now perched on Cypress’s back.

All heads swoop toward Lark and me. After a silent exchange with Puck and Juniper, Cypress deduces, “Because this is not a meeting.”

“Hardly.” My mouth crooks with fiendish intent. “It’s a game.”

7

Rather, it’s a game of wills and willpowers. It’s a power play, with moves and countermoves.

My mate and I bring Cypress, Moth, and Coral up to speed on the details, from the raven’s attack to the firebird’s foiled attempt in the wildlife park. Dismay contorts Cypress’s face, and Coral’s eyes thin to slits. Moth is less restrained, but once she has ceased cursing and kicking the poor air, we move on to the impending meeting with the enemy.

Negotiation is unlikely, since we tried that after everyone recovered from the flood that ravaged Elixir’s domain. Compromise and reason have gotten us nowhere. Indeed, under normal circumstances another conference would send the wrong message—that we’re either naive or bluffing. Yet after recent events, it will present our side as controlled, durable, and resilient.

Rage weakens a fighter. Weakness makes a warrior careless. Whoever is leading our enemies, they need to see that we’re anything but.

It’s time to issue a harsher threat, all the while slipping between the cracks and gathering every bit of information we can. That includes why and how our opponents compelled the raven, and what sort of leader can influence his followers to breach the tower’s sacred haven.

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