Page 52 of A Court of Sugar and Spice
He seems too tired to provide further explanation. Just as well, because I’m probably too tired to listen. My brain is content to accept “magic” and move on.
Clara lays a hand on Fin’s arm as we begin walking again. “Are your little pets all right?”
“Yes, they’re fine! A nose for danger, those three. They would have run off long before the rest of us knew there was anything wrong. They have their own tunnels in and out of the house, as well as their own burrows in the forest. They’ll be all right.”
“Oh good.” Clara sighs with relief. “I’m sorry about Theanne betraying you.”
“She and I had a falling-out some time ago,” Fin says. “I thought I had softened her up with my gift today, but perhaps she still holds a grudge. She always hated your father, Lir, but she despises the Rat King, too, so I thought she would be a safe choice. She’s a wonderful fighter.”
“We’ll have to do without her,” says Lir. “Send your messages to the others, and we’ll make for the Ford as fast as we can. The humans will need to rest eventually, but we can go on until dawn, then find a place to hide and sleep.”
15
Louisa and I have never had to travel any significant distance on our feet. And the only journeys we’ve made on horseback have been afternoon rides with Papa. The two days’ journey to the ford is beautiful, because we’re walking through Faerie—but it’s painful, too. Despite the comfortable nature of the boots Finias conjured for me, my muscles still scream, and I still get blisters.
I try not to complain, but somehow Fin can tell. “I’m sorry,” he whispers to me once. “I would use a healing sweet on you, but we need to save them in case of greater wounds later in our journey.”
Of course I understand. But his sympathy doesn’t make the walk any less painful or wearying. Besides the gorgeous scenery, the only other pleasant thing about trudging through Faerie is the conversation. Both Fin and Lir tell us more about their realm, and about themselves. How they grew up together at court, how Fin’s parents died saving a village in the South from a rogue leshy, how Lir’s mother contracted a rare disease and passed when he was small, and how Lir’s father the king, being ancient even for a Fae, eventually let himself fade and released his spirit, leaving his son to rule in his stead.
They’re sad stories, but the pair of them seem to have plenty of good memories as well—pranks played at court, merry dances and drinking parties, hunting Unseelie monsters with friends, training with their favorite weapons and spells.
By contrast, what Louisa and I share of our quiet lives seems very tame and dull. But the two males seem fascinated by our confined, routine life, and by the way Louisa and I each managed to find an outlet—her by sleeping with anyone she could get alone, and me by immersing myself in art.
When we finally reach the ford, we meet four others—a big fellow named Achorn, a moth girl, a reptilian person, and a dark-skinned Fae with white freckles. They’ve brought horses along, and weapons, and supplies.
They seemed surprised that Louisa and I are part of the group, and that Louisa is human, not Fae. Apparently Fin disguised Louisa with a glamour during their meeting at the tavern. But Fin skillfully fends off their questions about who Louisa and I are and how we’re connected to the quest, basically by hinting that we are a pair of mortal pets or slaves who belong to the Prince. He doesn’t say it outright, so I don’t protest, but the implication is clear. After some displeased looks, the mercenaries seem to accept us as part of the group, and we continue our journey on horseback.
I’m glad my feet get a rest, but riding for hours every day causes a different kind of discomfort. So much chafing. And it’s more difficult to chat with Finias and Lir. Besides which, the spell Finias has been using to deter any monsters that might be nearby doesn’t work for such a large group, and we have to fight a number of stray creatures—or rather, our escorts do. Most of the monsters are easily scared off once they’ve been stung by multiple spells or blades, but a few persist until they are killed.
“They can smell the humans,” growls Achorn after one such encounter, wiping blood off his great heavy blade. His fingers are still soot-stained from his use of fire spells.
“I’m doing my best to cloak their scents,” says Finias. “But my charms keep wearing off faster than I expect, especially with Clara. She smells so fucking good.”
A blush burns on my cheeks. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize, sweetness.” The Sugarplum Faerie licks his lips and winks at me.
My stomach flips as I remember being on his lap in the workroom. I haven’t gotten more than a few hasty, stolen kisses from him in a week. We’re always with other people, either traveling or hastily cramming food into our mouths before collapsing into our bedrolls. I usually sleep sandwiched between my sister and the moth-girl for warmth during the freezing nights.
“We should stop and make camp soon,” Finias says, his eyes still on me.
“Yes,” says Lir fervently. His voice sounds raspier than usual—it’s usually the first sign that he’s reverting to Nutcracker form. Whenever that begins to happen, he and Louisa slink off into the trees together. The others in our party probably assume they’re having sex, when in reality he’s drinking her blood. She keeps her arms covered, not only because of the cold but because of the bandages around them, concealing the places where he has bitten her. I only know of the bites because I saw her washing one morning in a cold stream before anyone else was up.
I’m not sure why she’s letting Lir bite her, instead of using a knife for a cleaner cut. The two of them have the strangest dynamic—they’re either bickering endlessly or not speaking to each other after a hearty fight. Yet when he needs her blood, she goes with him quickly, almost eagerly, and they both return flushed.
We continue walking until we enter a part of the forest where the trees bear huge white blossoms the size of my head. Each bloom consists of a myriad of enormous, delicate petals, layered together, coated with frost. Icicles glitter along the black branches of the trees, and pink afternoon light bathes the ground, which is a motley of rich black soil and clusters of white crystals.
My mind, which has become more accustomed to the startling beauty of the Fae realm, quakes a little with the wonder of this grove. Again, like on that first day, I feel compelled to be still, rooted to the spot while I try to take it all in. I pull my horse to a halt.
“This might be my favorite part of Faerie so far,” I breathe.
“Then here we shall camp,” Finias declares. “That clearing looks promising. And I do believe I smell fresh water nearby.”
We turn our horses aside into the space he indicated. The mercenaries immediately dismount and begin setting up for the night, while Louisa and Lir sidle away into a clump of trees whose low-hanging boughs and blossoms will offer them concealment.
“Do they think they’re being subtle about it?” I ask Finias with a smirk.
“If they do, they’re wrong.” He reaches up, and I hop off the horse into his arms.
