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I paused for a moment, then turned away from him and lifted my hair out of the way. His large hands came around my front, pulling the strands of the chain on both sides. It seemed remarkable how he was able to be so gentle with the delicate chain and clasp and not break it with his large hands.
One of his claws scraped lightly across my nape as he worked the clasp, sending a shiver down my spine.
“I apologize. Almost done.”
The tremble I felt at his nearness, at his claw caressing my skin, had not been one of fear or pain. Quite the opposite.
“There,” he said then stepped away.
I peered down at the moonstone I’d cherished so much. I had no idea he’d snatched it from the pile. I’d thought to never see it again.
“Thank you.” I turned to find him seated with his back to the trunk of the wide tree, his wings spread, his booted feet crossed at the ankles. “This necklace is important to me,” I admitted.
“I know.” His eyes glittered by the blue coal-fire.
Without another word, I lay down on the makeshift bed, pulling one of the hides over me, facing away from him toward the fire and Gwenda, who was still sleeping soundly.
My mind rewound to the story of my mother. And my real father. The pain of their tragic tale sank deep. I blinked back the tears and closed my eyes, trying to imagine what it would’ve been like for my mother to find her true mate after she was already married.
The gods had a fate designed for everyone, if one believed in the gods. And I did.
I devoted myself to Elska, Goddess of the Wood. Though we had no temple in our new village since we’d left Myrkovir Forest, I still paid tribute to her with floral coronets of juniper and night phlox, believed to be her favorite flowers. I set them around the largest oak tree in the woods behind the house, creating my own temple for her. I prayed to her weekly, hoping for her blessings.
I’d once prayed for Mama to return, but then realized Tessa was all the family I needed. Then one night, Tessa went out to find medicine for father and never returned, so perhaps the goddess didn’t care for me much.
Maybe I was to have a tragic end like my mother, destined to never find the correct path until it was too late. Never to have a mate as the half-breed pariah that I was.
“Your father loved your mother,” came the velvet dark voice of the shadow fae. “And he loved you. Of that, you can be certain. The only reason he didn’t take her away to Issos was because she told him she couldn’t abandon your sister.”
I believed him. But it didn’t ease the sad ache blooming in my heart. It only made it spread wider, making me feel more alone than ever before.
Chapter
Nine
MURGHA
Iawoke from a restless sleep to a light tinkling sound and the soft chirp of morning larks. As the fuzz of a dream I couldn’t remember peeled away, memories of yesterday and last night returned to me. I bolted upright. What I saw immediately pulled a smile to my lips.
Vallon sat cross-legged on the far side of the coal-fire still burning, for I could feel its heat and see the dim glow in the gray morning light. He was hunched over, murmuring softly to Gwendazelle, who was crouched on the branch she’d slept upon, both of them holding ornate, silver teacups.
I rubbed my eyes and uncurled from the nest of blankets, my tummy rumbling at the sweet, spicy scent. They both looked up.
“Good morning,” said Vallon casually, taking a sip of tea.
“Morning, Murgha,” chirped Gwenda, sipping from her own tiny cup that seemed to be an exact replica of Vallon’s, only much, much smaller.
I blinked sleepily, wondering if I was dreaming. Between them was a steaming silver pot and a matching creamer decanter upon a small, silver tray.
Yesterday, when this terrifying shadow fae stormed into Papa’s inn and swept me away by force, I never imagined thispicture of him sitting daintily with a pretty wood sprite, sipping morning tea from an obviously expensive and ornamental tea set.
“Do you like tea?” he asked.
“I love tea,” I told him honestly. Though I had never drunk from a service such as this.
“Have a seat.” He gestured toward the hide that was still spread out on his side of the fire, where I’d sat and interrogated him last night.
I sat, cross-legged, facing the tea set, admiring it as he poured a steaming cup.
