Page 77 of Across an Endless Sea

I try to force sound through my frozen lips, but all that escapes is a tiny ‘mmmph.’

It does get his attention, though.

“The venom will wear off in an hour or two,” he murmurs, almost sympathetically. “Rest. The tunnel wyrms don’t come here. They hate fire, and they’re terrified of chickens.”

That is the oddest sentence I’ve ever heard. Why the hell is something as enormous as the beast that just almost ate me scared of a farm animal?

It does explain the smell, though. And if he’s still alive after obviously having been here for some time, perhaps there is something to the outlandish theory.

“You need food,” he continues, though I sense he’s talking to himself, reaching for his goggles again. “And something to drink, I’m sure. Stay here. Rest. I’ll be back.”

He wraps himself back up, then disappears back through the narrow crevice, this time with a small sack.

As soon as he’s gone, the cave rumbles, and my heart thumps loudly.

Rest. Yeah, right.

It takes thirteen seconds exactly for the quake to pass. I count every one, waiting for the beast to burst through the wall and finish what it started. It doesn’t.

Still, I’m too on edge to sleep. All I can do is sit there and try my hardest to twitch my arms as chickens roam around me, pecking and scratching. Eventually, I manage to wiggle my toes, and by the time the fae returns, holding a large and slimy fish that’s completely translucent, I can turn my head and move my lips.

“Who are you?” I whisper.

He freezes in the entrance, holding his fish in front of him like an offering.

It seems to take him a while to process what I’ve said, and when he does, he jerks forward, carrying his catch to a spot beside the fire.

“For the last century, I’ve been called Marlblew.”

His phrasing makes it clear that’s not his true name, but I accept it without complaint. I’d be pretty hesitant to trust a stranger with details about myself too.

“I’m Rose,” I offer, as he draws a knife and starts gutting his catch. “How do you know Florian?”

“He’s alive?” His face snaps around, eyes alight with interest, only to fall at the sadness in my expression. “Dead, then? As I assumed.”

“I don’t know,” I whisper. “He was holding on, last I knew.”

Marlblew cocks his head to one side then nods, piercing the gutted fish on a stick and arranging the whole thing so it sits over the fire, roasting.

“He’s strong. How long… how long has the Fourth Nicnevin been…?”

For all that he speaks so fast, he can’t seem to finish the sentence, and I take pity on him.

“I’m twenty-five,” I reply.

He pauses with his arm half buried in a sack. “So much time…”

I pause. “Did you know my mother, too?”

Just who is this fae?

Marlblew doesn’t answer.

“Why are you here?” he asks, instead. “Where is your Guard?”

Grimacing, I turn away. “Danu made a mistake,” I reply. “She appointed a Fomorian to my Guard, and he betrayed us. The others are still in Elfhame, as far as I know.”

“Caed,” he whispers the name, eyes flashing with something I can’t name.

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