Page 112 of The Courting of Bristol Keats
“No, he practically spat the news in my face.”
“I promise you, he deserved it,” she grumbled.
Tyghan grinned. “I don’t doubt that, but be careful. Reuben is powerful and petty—and he does love his expensive robes.”
“Better his robe than his hair, right? I considered that too.”
He laughed. “Then I suppose I should be glad you showed restraint.”
“Look there. You’re good at laughing after all.”
His gaze swam in hers, easy and comfortable, like she was a warm oasis. “I’m learning. I have a good teacher. Any other new talents I should know about?”
“I’m getting better at levitation.”
Tyghan pulled her close and skimmed a hand low across her back. “Trust me, you’ve already mastered the knack of that.”
He reached up and lightly trailed a finger across the hollow of her throat. Her blood ignited and an exquisite fiery throb clutched low in her belly. Her lashes fluttered shut for a moment and she gasped. “How—” She swallowed. “How do you do that?”
“I have a few skills you haven’t seen yet too. Want to see more?”
His lips met hers, and they decided their news and Eris could wait for another hour.
Or two.
CHAPTER 76
Eris sat forward on the fallen log, his arms resting on his thighs, listening to the hum pulsing through the forest. Even the wood sprites were rejoicing, as if they had heard the news too, though it was still a carefully guarded secret. But joy and hope were contagious, and the hum elevated his own high spirits.
It had been two weeks since he and Dahlia confirmed that only the animals that made the burrows—or those who were bloodmarked—could detect and close them. Bristol had found and closed three more burrows since then. With her newfound skills, it seemed all six of the recruits were shining, growing together in strength. He watched them laughing and hugging over their newest success. They were executing team advancement drills through the forest, competing with the officers, using elemental magics, spells, or brute force to knock the other team to the ground. After five rounds, the recruits were ahead three to two.
“You do know the officers are letting them win,” Dahlia said.
“Yes, I do,” Eris answered. “Nothing wrong with that, just this once. It’s boosting their confidence, and week’s end is Beltane Eve. Tyghan wants them to swagger into Timbercrest Castle like they own the place.”
Like joy, confidence was contagious too, Eris thought. They needed the other kingdoms to believe defeat of the Fomorians was possible. Their commitment of forces and weapons was more crucial than ever. Even if Bristol eliminated the portal to the Abyss along with the restless dead, they still had Kormick’s fae army to contend with. Fomorians were desperate and dirty fighters, and with the restless dead fighting their battles, they had no casualties. Their numbers had continued to multiply. Danu needed the other kingdoms to believe victory was possible—that their combined resistance could turn the tide. Fomorians had controlled Elphame once, in the long-distant past. It had been a disastrous reign of oppression and hunger, and the Tuatha de suffered greatly under their rule. Their ways were volatile and erratic, and always cruel. This time, Eris was certain, it would be far worse, not just for Elphame but for the mortal world, too. Kormick’s hunger for control was too great—he wouldn’t stop with just one realm. Talks, letters, and pleas to the other kingdoms for support were getting them nowhere. They needed to see hope with their own eyes.
Dahlia sipped her tea as she eyed the recruits. She and Eris were there to watch them in the field and offer criticisms and incantations in order to fine-tune their burgeoning skills. “A burrow is a far cry from a portal,” Dahlia reminded him. “They’re temporary and eventually crumble shut on their own. A portal does not. We have to let her attempt the real thing.”
Eris sighed. He didn’t need a reminder. The dilemma was, there were only a handful of portals left, thanks to the Darkland monster, and no kingdom would be willing to sacrifice one near them. Many fae were tied to the mortal world on a daily basis; there were hobs, brownies, and gentry who kept a foot in both realms. To cut them off even further would disrupt commerce in both worlds—and anger monarchs they needed on their side. The solution, of course, was to have Bristol open a new portal of her own, and close it as practice. But so far she hadn’t been able to accomplish that.
In this regard, both Eris and Dahlia were mostly helpless. There were no incantations to recite, or potions to offer, no ancient grimoires to study, no instructions of any kind, for that matter, to make her innate ability as a bloodmarked show itself, beyond what they had already done. It was like Rose shape-shifting to a hawk or Julia to a lion—it was an instinctual calling. Bristol needed to hear the whisper of Brigid through the millennia—to feel the quickening in her blood.
The Lumessa said Bristol’s innate abilities would continue to bleed out of the injured tick in small amounts. All they could do at this point was offer Bristol gentle prodding to coax her ability to the surface. They gave her a tella stone to sleep with, and another for her pocket to sharpen her connections with those who came before her, to help her recognize another language humming through her veins—that is, if the language wasn’t some butchered message inside her. There was still some question as to what Bristol actually was. When Eris and Dahlia consulted with the Lumessa, she said it was unclear, but Eris had noticed the skittish glances between the Sisters as they listened on.
“If she had the tick removed . . .” Eris mused.
“That subject has already been broached. Miss Keats and the king both say no. Even the Lumessa is not in favor of it yet.”
Why?they both wondered. It was unsettling. The Lumessa herself believed the risk of death was small. Was it only because Bristol was afraid of what she might become? Or because the Lumessa was?
Dahlia grimaced as if remembering something else. “Miss Keats came to me with questions. And she’s questioned a dozen others. I don’t like it. She learned that her father was a Danu knight and asked if I knew him. She assumed that since he’s been in the mortal world for twenty-four years, that was how long ago he left here.”
“What did you tell her?”
“That I didn’t know him well—which is certainly a version of the truth. But her questions aren’t going to stop.”
“I know, Dahlia. I know.” Eris dragged his palm over his brow. “She came to me, too. Everyone’s been advised how to respond.”
