Page 44 of The Red Woman and the White Bear

Despite the numbness that radiated from her heels, up her legs, and over the curve of her spine to settle at the base of her skull, the sight of Rodney’s shock of bright orange hair brought Aisling crashing back down to earth in an instant. Briar must have alerted him to her coming—Rodney stepped out onto the porch before her foot landed on the bottom stair.

His eyes were wide, though whether from fear or relief she couldn’t tell. She hoped it was fear. “Ash—” he started.

The loud cracking sound and the sharp sting on her palm still weren’t enough to temper the hot swell of rage in Aisling’s chest when she struck him across the face. She could have done it again, and again, but she refrained. He touched his fingers to the red mark already blooming on his cheek.

“You left me,” Aisling accused. “You left me there to die.”

“I never would have let you die, Ash,” he insisted. It was as good as a confession.

“I nearly did! Twice!” Briar, eager to reach her, pawed at the door Rodney had closed before he could escape. Neither made a move to open it.

Rodney raised his hands, palms towards her as if attempting to appease a feral animal. She felt like one. “You being there was our best chance to get what we needed.”

“We?” she snarled. “Don’t you dare act like we’ve been a team this whole time. You left me there alone; you played no part in any of this.”

“Lyre would have told me if you were ever in any real danger.”

She bit out a harsh laugh that sounded like anything but. Lyre, the smooth-tongued wolf in sheep’s clothing. She was hardly surprised that he and Rodney got along, and less still that Lyre had downplayed her predicament. In fact, he had likely done so from the beginning to ensure she remained there, under his thumb, until he could figure out how best to use her. First as a weapon, then as a shield. He’d played his role well, she had to admit.

The Prelate, she could understand. A creature of habit, he knew just how to walk that razor-thin tightrope of the Unseelie Court. He balanced perfectly his station with his own machinations—one in one hand, one in another, to keep himself steady in the middle.

But Rodney’s complicity in her imprisonment, in her torment, in all of this—that was far crueler simply because of how insipid it truly was. His only goal was to play the game. Aisling realized then thather best friend still fancied himself the chess master in this match, and that she had the entire time been his willing pawn.

“Please come inside. Let me explain.” He reached out to her, but she pulled away.

“No.” Aisling crossed her arms tightly over her chest and glared up at him.

“I didn’t know you’d been imprisoned, not at first. I’d spoken to Lyre on Nocturne, briefly, and he knew you’d be coming back, but it took me time to track him down again.” Rodney raked a hand back through his wild hair. “He isn’t easy to find until he wants to be found.”

Briar was whining now, and Aisling wanted nothing more than to go to him. She stopped herself; she knew the moment she had him by her side, she would soften. She couldn’t let Rodney off so easily.

Stumbling over his words in his haste to get them out before Aisling got it in her head to slap him again, he continued: “He told me about your connection to the king. The next time I saw him, he told me that he’d found a way to get you out of the dungeon. He told me…” he trailed off then, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

“Told you what?” Aisling said through gritted teeth.

“He told me that he thought you were making progress toward your goal of getting closer to Kael.” He was paraphrasing, she could tell, but she hardly wanted to know what Lyre had said in detail. Just that summary alone was enough to draw a pink blush over her chest.

“Did he also tell you that he knows who I am? That he planned to bargain with me—my protection for his silence?”

Rodney blanched then. “No, he didn’t.”

“He figured it out. I didn’t trust him to keep the secret, so I…” Her voice broke, thick with tears that she choked down quickly. They surprised her; she didn’t think she had any left. “I told the king, and he sent me away.”

“Please come inside,” Rodney said again. This time, when he reached for Aisling’s shoulders, she let him guide her to the door. She hadn’t the energy to be angry any longer.

Briar was waiting just inside, calmer now. Like he knew Aisling needed his steadiness. He bristled for a brief moment when he smelled Fae on her, tail halting mid-wag. She dropped to her knees and buried her face in his soft fur, curling her fingers into it. His breath was hot against her neck and his tail resumed its rapid back-and-forth the instant her arms wrapped around him.

“I took good care of him for you,” Rodney said softly. “Probably gave him too many treats, though.”

She didn’t want to laugh—she really didn’t—but she couldn’t help herself. It felt more like a sob, but Rodney was satisfied enough to call it progress.

Time flowed differently in the Wild—something Aisling hadn’t realized when she’d returned from the Nocturne revelry, drunk on honey wine and Kael’s scent. But she learned that all of the time she’d just spent in the Unseelie Court, which Rodney estimated to have been somewhere close to a month, had passed as a mere four days on Brook Isle.

As she tried to force down a dry piece of toast, she considered the implications of this for her mother, who would disappear for a day or two at a time. Wherever she’d been in the Fae realm, it would havefelt to her much, much longer. Aisling wondered if her mother ever missed home during those periods away. If she ever missed her.

The bread, though bland, left a sour taste behind on Aisling’s tongue. She felt sick—sick in her head, her stomach. Her heart. All she’d learned about her prophecy was that it was a subject forbidden from discussion in the Unseelie Court. All she’d learned about the Red Woman was that she was a damned fool.

Tired as she was, Aisling couldn’t sit still. She found a set of clothes she’d left in Rodney’s laundry weeks before and stuffed the garments Kael had given her into the bottom of the waste bin under the bathroom sink. She wanted to scrub the scent of him off of her, but once the water was spraying hot out of the showerhead, she couldn’t bring herself to step underneath it. Instead, she pulled the end of her braid up to her nose and inhaled deeply. Pine, mossy earth, shadows, magic. It would fade soon, but for now, she could savor the last traces of him there.

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