Page 26 of A City of Emeralds and Envy
“But I would have done it elegantly, neatly. For research.”
“That’s such a comfort.” I use his shoulder as a prop while I climb to my feet. Despite my insistence that I’m all right, my legs wobble. Maybe the shock of being chased by flesh-eating crows and nearly eaten alive affected me more than I thought.
The Scarecrow hasn’t spoken for a while, so I glance over at him. He has relaxed into the grass, and his golden lashes have fallen shut. His chest rises with slow, steady breaths.
The sight of him makes my heart ache. He’s covered in chafe marks from the ropes, scratches from Riordan’s armor, and gashes from the beaks and claws of the crows. The only time I’ve seen a Fae in worse shape is when I helped Caer recover from an attack of the Heartless.
“He’s sleeping off the cursed water they dosed him with.” Riordan nudges the Scarecrow’s arm with his foot. “He won’t wake for a while. Best not to move him while his body repairs itself—if it can. He may have scars, or worse, depending on how much they gave him.”
I sigh, sinking back into the grass. “When he wakes, we need to find that yellow brick road again.”
“I’ll go look for it,” Dorothy says. “I’ll bring Fiero with me, so he can hunt for a squirrel or something to eat. The road can’t be far. And since we’re connected, I can always find my way back tohim.” She points at Riordan.
“Be careful,” I warn her.
She flips a thick brown braid over her shoulder. “You too. Come on, Fiero.”
She practically saunters off into the forest, as if she belongs here, as if she has roamed this area all her life.
“Wish I had her confidence,” I mutter.
Riordan adjusts his position in the grass, stretching out his stiff armored legs.
How terrible it must be for him, trapped in that shell, unable to eat, sleep, drink, fuck, or do magic. Worse than the lack of physical comfort is the emotional and mental toll—which must be horrific. Riordan comes across as cool, ruthless, cerebral, even emotionless, but he holds a depth of passion I’ve never experienced from anyone else. Messes, dysfunction, waste, and ignorance disturb him deeply, almost painfully. He’s surprisingly sensitive, and for a soul like his, this curse must be excruciating.
My sympathy almost obliterates the memory of him rejecting me and sending me away.
“You’re suffering, aren’t you?” I scoot nearer to him and place one hand on his armored thigh. “I wish I could help. I promise we’ll get you out of this.”
His voice grates from within the helmet, a caustic rumble. “Are you sure you want me out of it?”
Weariness washes over me at the words and the prospect of a long, emotionally difficult conversation. “We’re not doing this now. I barely know how to talk to you when you’re in that thing.”
“We might not have the opportunity again. You’re likely to die tonight, shredded by the claws of someone we used to know, while I’m forced to watch.”
“That won’t happen. Dorothy can help us—”
“No.” He barks the word so sharply that Jasper frowns in his sleep and lets out a soft whimper. I move between him and Riordan, stroking the silky golden waves of the Scarecrow’s hair. He settles under my touch, his brow smooth again.
“Dorothy’s magic isn’t strong enough to defeat Caer,” Riordan says. “The Green Wizard made him too powerful. I’m not sure what the idiot wished for—strength, power—”
“You shouldn’t call him an idiot. He didn’t hear what Fin told us, about the Green Wizard being the one who cursed the Unseelie Queen. You knew all about that, and you wished anyway.”
“I was desperate. I had tried everything to get close to Caer without being ripped to pieces. And I went into the Emerald City intending toconfrontthe Wizard, not make a wish. Once I got into his throne room, I couldn’t seem to remember anything I knew about him except that he could help me, if I would only ask.”
“You think he charmed you somehow?”
“I think he wields an influence beyond that of any normal Fae, witch, wizard or otherwise. He’s either a god-star, or the priest of one. Which makes our task all the more difficult.”
“We’ll find a way.” I let one of Jasper’s curls slide through my fingers. It stretches smooth, like a gold satin ribbon, before it bounces back into place. Then I stroke the edge of his ear, admiring the delicate tip and the soft lobe pierced with a single sky-blue earring. Idly, hardly knowing why, I trace his smooth chin and the sharp corner of his jaw.
Something in me reaches out to him, wants to draw him close, protect him, kiss him and whisper to him and soothe his heart. I want to reassure him that he won’t be rejected or sacrificed again. I think, if I did those things, he would follow me around forever, loyal and devoted. He would do anything I wanted… anything at all…
“You obviously wish to fuck him,” Riordan says tightly. “So do it.”
Startled, I glance up. “I don’t want to fuck him.”
“Don’t lie to me, kitten. I can smell you, even through this damned helmet. Go on. Wake him, and see if he’ll oblige you. Sex might restore him faster.”
