Page 47 of The Red Woman and the White Bear

“I thought the same until he blackmailed me. He was using me the entire time.” The pair resumed their climb slowly, side by side.

“It’s in his nature,” he explained simply. “All of our nature, really. And I’d say you took to it rather well yourself.”

Aisling ground her teeth but remained silent. Though Lyre had undoubtedly told him of her closeness with Kael, Rodney still believed that she’d been manipulating him all along. Playing the role they’d crafted for her from the very first night. For now, she was content to let him believe it. Having never once seen him so much as glance at any woman or man on the island, shecouldn’t imagine he’d understand. Even if he did, he’d still think her irrational for it. She certainly did.

Once they made it to the overlook, Rodney fell onto the bench. The weatherworn wood creaked under his weight. Aisling stood closer to the edge to take in the view. It was too foggy to see as far as Waldron Island to the east, and too cold to linger long, but for a moment she savored it: the quickening of her heart as she looked over the cliffside, the turbulent sea surging against the rocks below. It looked the way she felt inside.

When she turned back, her gaze landed on the hawthorn trees. A safe distance off the trail, they stood together to face the battering winds. Despite the winter chill, their branches were still laden with clusters of berries, tiny rubies among blazing golden leaves. They wouldn’t last much longer, particularly once the morning frosts arrived, but for now they clung steadfastly to life. She admired them for it: their resilience.

“Ash,” Rodney said, dragging her attention away from the trees. “I’d like to introduce you to Ivran.”

She understood at once why she hadn’t heard the faerie approach: he was small, maybe only as large as a loaf of bread. He was perched on the back of the bench not far from Rodney’s shoulder and balanced himself against each gust of wind with long, translucent wings. The membranes that threaded them so delicately caught what little sunlight strayed through the clouds overhead, glittering. An unruly mop of golden curls framed a ruddy, boyish face with pointed features.

But it was the male’s lower body that most clearly marked him as Fae. From the waist down, he took on the form of a grasshopper. His two hind legs, thin and spiny, mirrored those of the insect, each bending at a sharp angle near the top.

Aisling approached slowly. She did her best not to stare, but his unusual form was captivating. Thus far, it was the most remarkable she’d seen yet. To his credit, despite being an avid bug chaser, Briar was unaffected.

“Ivran, Aisling. Aisling, Ivran.” Rodney gestured between the two. Ivran dipped his upper half in a sort of bow, wavering a bit on his perch.

“A pleasure, miss,” he chirped. His voice was exactly as she’d expected it to sound, not terribly far off from the insect’s evening song. A sweet, lilting intonation.

Aisling smiled, her first genuine grin in days. The joy that seemed to radiate from the faerie was infectious. “The pleasure’s mine, Ivran. We’re grateful for your help.”

“Don’t be too quick to thank me; I haven’t gotten you in just yet.” He winked and his upturned black eyes sparkled mischievously. “What business does a human and a changeling have with the Seelie Court, anyhow?”

Before Aisling could give an excuse, Rodney said smoothly, “Business that is none of yours.”

Ivran raised his hands. “Point taken, my friend. Let’s get to it then.” He sprang from the bench to the ground, beckoning over his slender shoulder, and Rodney and Aisling followed him towards the trees. His iridescent green exoskeleton shimmered blue and purpleas he hopped along. Halfway there, he paused, drawing the group to a stop. Briar halted just short of stepping on one of his limbs. “Wait here.”

Ivran bounded ahead and up into one of the trees. If Aisling squinted, she could just see him whispering against its trunk. She blinked, and two females materialized as though they had peeled themselves from the bark. Indeed, their skin resembled the texture of bark, but softer. It bore intricate patterns that mimicked the swirling grain of wood. An earthy scent followed in their wake, reminiscent of freshly turned soil.

As they conversed with Ivran, each ribbon of their cascading ivy hair seemed to sway with a life of its own while the leaves up above did the same on the ocean breeze. Their limbs moved just as fluidly as the branches. They were the hawthorn trees, come to life. Aisling couldn’t help staring this time, mesmerized.

When Ivran nodded in their direction, Rodney nudged Aisling and they continued their approach. Aisling kept Briar at her side on a short leash. The dryads acknowledged them silently, each retreating to press her back against her respective tree. Ivran gazed at their lithe, swaying forms, love-struck.

“What was the price you paid for this, exactly?” Aisling asked under her breath.

Rodney smirked. “A glamour. He wanted to be a man for a night, to lay with one of them. Or both, maybe. I didn’t ask him to clarify.”

Aisling raised her eyebrows, glancing down again atIvran. “Did he?”

“I filled my half of the bargain; I don’t care to know whether or not he followed through.”

She felt a twinge of sadness for the tiny faerie, longing for what he couldn’t have. If he had gotten his wish, she wondered whether he felt better or worse for it. If she could have, she would have told him that it is far less painful to remain blissfully ignorant than to miss something one might never have again.

The dryads leaned in towards each other, then, to clasp their hands high overhead. By the rustling of the leaves, it appeared that the hemlock trees followed suit. Between them, beneath their long arms, the Veil shimmered into view. Aisling sucked in a breath and pulled Briar in tighter. Rodney took her free hand, steadying her.

“Enjoy your visit,” Ivran trilled.

The Veil in the Seelie Thin Place felt less like a sticky, grasping cobweb and more like a smooth sheet of satin that slid over Aisling’s skin. They’d emerged between two hawthorn trees, identical to those they just left save for the leaves, which here were dense and green. Immediately, she had to shield her eyes from the bright sun that hung overhead. It was tinged the same angry red as it had been in the human realm. Over Brook Isle, though, it had since returned to normal as the shifting autumn winds pulled the smoke out of the sky. There was no smoke here, but the rays washed everything with a faint hue of dusty pink.

Before her eyes could fully adjust, Aisling felt Rodney’s grip on her hand tighten.

“Ash—” he choked out,voice low.

Something cold and harsh pressed against the side of her neck. A blade; she could tell without reaching up to feel it. Though she couldn’t see her captor, she could see Rodney’s. He, too, was held still by the edge of a dagger. The one against his neck was curved so that its pointed tip dug into his opposite cheek. A firm hand seized the back of Aisling’s jacket and Briar, growling, snapped his teeth at another that reached for his collar.

The guards that found them were tall and lean, with bronze skin and eyes as clear blue as the sky above. Their pale armor shone rose gold in this light; the way it conformed to their bodies made it appear less like metal and more like a second skin, delicate yet strong. There were four of them, expressions hard as they took in their catch.

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