Page 44 of Mountain of Mirrors and Starlight
Minerva snorted. “The more the merrier.”
“They won’t imprison us for being fae, right?” Beau asked. “The dwarves and the fae have had a testy relationship since the Dwarven Uprising in the Year of Briar 866—”
“I’m aware of the history, boy, you’ll be fine. We dwarves don’t live as long as you. It’s ancient history.”
“Are yousure?Because—”
“Beau?” Aislinn threw the bedroll against his chest. “Shut up.”
“Yes, all right.”
Caer glanced at Aislinn as she climbed back onto her horse, half a smile spread across his face. She hoped that meant he was glad they were coming with them.
“I saw that,” Beau whispered in her ear. “And your blush, too.”
“You’ll see the ground, in a minute, when I chuck you off this horse.”
Beau squeaked. Unlike mortal threats, hers were binding. She’d once told him she’d drop him in the river if he pulled her hair again when he was barely more than a toddler, and he’d almost drowned. Aislinn, to her credit, did try her best to fish him out—she hadn’treallywanted to do it, she’d just… not had a choice.
He’d learnt young not to aggravate her.
They set off at a brisk pace. It was a pleasant, easy enough journey, especially with the mounts bearing the weight of the hills. They stuck to a long crest of them, over the forests.
“Better terrain,” Minerva explained. “No roads out here. The undergrowth is a nightmare on their tails.”
They stopped a few times to refresh themselves and rest their rides—especially poor Snapdragon, who was carrying two—but otherwise they spent most of their time moving. The company was brighter than before. Something about Aislinn’s talk with Caer last night seemed to have eased the entire party, and he didn’t seem to mind Beau’s plethora of questions which continued for the better part of an hour. If anything, he almost appeared to enjoy that someone was fascinated by his powers rather than fearful of them.
Eventually, his questions subsided, and Beau’s attention was claimed instead by the countryside around them. The Redwood was fading, magenta easing into browns and yellows. The air twitched with soft, dappled, earthy magic, the scent of warmth and rain. Aislinn wanted to swim in it.
“This is beautiful,” Beau remarked, and then, half a beat later, “I miss Daisy.”
“Who’s Daisy?” Caer asked, appearing at their side.
“Our mutual best friend,” Beau explained, still sad. Aislinn understood; Daisy would love it here, and they rarely went adventuring without him.
“Oh? What’s she like?”
“She’s a he.”
“Daisy’s a boy?”
“Half-minotaur, actually, if you’re building a picture. Brilliant horns.”
“Let me make sure I’m following,” Caer started. “You have a best friend, who is a minotaur, and a man, called Daisy?”
“Half-minotaur.”
Wind whispered through the trees.
“Well, I like it!” Caer clapped his hands together. “Tell me more of this minotaur fellow.”
It was nice to talk about Daisy again, even if it was hard to talk about their shared childhood together without mentioning Cassandra. Beau was desperately skirting around her. Aislinn wished he wouldn’t. It made it worse, somehow, like she only existed at the end, like her near two-decades of life didn’t matter because of how early she quit it.
Finally, they made camp for the night. They drank their remaining ale, built the fire high, cooked a small boar Diana caught for them, and ate nuts roasted in herbs.
After the ale was drunk, and the food gone, Fort unrolled her pack and whipped out several packs of cards. “Right, ladymen and gentlefolk, who wants to continue our Wyverns and Wastelands campaign?”
“Ooh, me, me!” said Luna, clapping her hands and unwrapping the carefully bound decks of cards to deposit amongst their rightful owners.
