Page 29 of Immortal Sins
The Seelie Court. That’ll be interesting to see.
“Cole mentioned the different Faerie time zones. How do we keep track of how much time has passed at the Academy?” A shiver runs through me. Two days until I see Cole again…
Flynn pulls a pocket watch from his trousers and clicks it open. “This watch was enchanted to always show the same date and time as the Dark Falls library. It’s only ten pm for them, so we’ve been gone for less than two hours. Thurst has been stuck in a mildahtavarcurrent for years.”
Cole had explained the specifics of Fae time zones minutes before we had sex, so my recollection of the terminology is messy. “Mehjlirnopockets are the ones that suck you in, andahtavarcurrents are the ones that give you eons of time to make it home for dinner?” I sum up.
Flynn nods. “We call them M-pockets and A-currents. Time flows differently in all regions of Faerie, like the weather differs in your realm.”
A sting behind my eyes announces the start of a headache. “How do Faerie folks keep track of it all?”
“We don’t, really. We’re immortal. Inter-realm travellers are a minority.”
Chills run up and down my spine. “And the mortals?”
“We have two suns and five moons, so calculations can be done. Some particularly intense M-pockets are tracked on the royal maps. Mortal families mostly travel together to avoid cross-aging, but they’re used to it. It’s not uncommon for a father and his sons to look the same age if they chose to separate at one point.”
“Ugh. Freaky.”
If Oz has friends in this part, we manage to avoid them because our walk to the next village is uninterrupted.
Like Flynn predicted, the town is busier. Mortals, sprites, and pixies haggle over cluttered tables in the market.
An inn with a steep brass roof and colored glass panes comes into view. Above the wooden door, the detailed carving of an eagle stands with a horseshoe in its talons. A small hedgedog—a dog-shaped creature with black and yellow spikes—barks at our approach.
I’m more accustomed to the textures and colors by now, but I’ve only seen these creatures in textbooks.
Flynn walks past the main entrance of the inn and heads straight for the stables in the back. A mortal stable boy is pouring water in a wide trough, and the bucket in his hands shakes when Flynn steps closer, water spraying the ground.
The boy is tall but slim, with no real muscles to speak of, and he moves a bit awkwardly the way teens do when they are still getting used to their growing bodies.
“Can I help you, sir?” He keeps his gaze on the ground as he addresses Flynn.
The Fae presses a purse full of coins on the boy’s chest. “I want two good, reliable horses, ready to go.”
“Right away, sir.” He almost trips over himself but hurries off.
He comes back fifteen minutes later with a fifteen-hands bay mare and a taller, dapple-gray gelding. Both horses are saddled.
Flynn pats the gray horse’s neck and murmurs a few words. The horses’ ears twitch and tip forward.
I turn my attention to the mare.
She looks at me with her big, soulful eyes. A heavy nicker rumbles through her lips.
“Hi,” I say. Without thought, I grab the pommel and swing my right leg over the horse’s back.
Flynn gawks, hands cramped over the reins. “You’ve ridden before.”
“Wouldn’t you like to know.” I tap the horse’s sides with my heels and ride off, keeping a slow pace until we pass the gates, then accelerate to a rhythmic trot.
My chest expands. It’s been too long since I’ve ridden.
Flynn catches up to me, his movements fluid, and I’ve got no doubts he’s used to this, too.
About an hour later, Flynn removes his hood, and his glamor starts to shine again. I guess his Seelie Fae-ness is no longer a liability.
The two Faerie suns, one orange and one red, slowly descend in the sky. The flow of time, weather, and daylight are things Faerie folks cannot take for granted. Flynn doesn’t seem fazed by the growing darkness, but the horses slow down.
