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I looked up to find a being standing beneath a tree that was completely covered in greenery all the way down its trunk. He’d blended in with the moss and ivy-covered tree behind him so well that it took me a moment to see him. Then he stepped to the side and the darker shadow of the woods behind him revealed him more clearly.
He had the shape of a beast fae—a giant with horns, claws, and tail. But he was green. His skin was the color of spring grass, his eyes glittering green jewels in the dark. He wore only a skirt made of some sort of brown hide that stopped above his knees. His chest and arms bore no runes of any kind.
Grindolvek stepped from the shadows and stared straight at me. What I’d thought was decorative ivy winding in his hair now appeared a part of him, molding to his temples and down his face along his hairline, trailing down his throat. He looked like a naiad or dryad where the forest had woven itself into his flesh. His expression remained placid and unthreatening, yet he walked directly until he caught sight of Goll moving in front of me.
Grindolvek stopped, glancing at Goll then back at me. “You’re the one.”
His voice was a soothing rasp as if he didn’t use it often.
I felt the others glancing around curiously, but I gently pushed Goll to the side, saying, “He won’t hurt me.” Then I looked back at Grindolvek. “Yes,” I told him. “I’m the one. Do you have the words that I need?”
He inhaled a sharp breath, and then all at once, his green skin lit up as if a lantern shone from inside him. Keffa made a surprised sound behind me, but all I could do was stare. In darklettering, words swam beneath his skin, lit up by some internal light.
“Gods below,” muttered Keffa.
For a moment, I couldn’t speak, absorbing the fact that the words were in his blood. Grindolvek simply watched me curiously.
He stared wide-eyed, looking more like a child, even in his giant body. “I’ve been waiting for you. I haven’t given the words to anyone else, as the Goddess of the Wood instructed.”
“Elska gave you these words?” I asked, incredulous.
He nodded. “She gave them to me at birth. But she has visited my dreams. She wants you to have them, the dark fae lady with white hair. Then my burden will be gone.”
Yet again, I marveled at this description. I was born moon fae, a royal of the highest realm of light fae. Yet I’d been obviously marked by the dark fae world. Apparently, it wasn’t all for nothing. This was my purpose.
“I don’t understand,” I said. “How am I to get the words you have for me?”
“You must drink them,” he said simply.
Goll growled, “She isnotdrinking your blood.”
Grindolvek’s otherworldly gaze drifted to Goll. “She must.”
Goll turned me to face him, his scowl deep. “You cannot drink the blood of another creature like that. It could be poisoned or diseased.” He shook his head with a sharp shake. “I won’t allow it.”
Smiling, I reached up my hand and placed my palm on his cheek, recognizing his outrage as fear for me. His stiffened posture relaxed at my touch.
“Goll, this is what the goddess wants. What the gods want. I won’t disobey them.” Then I tiptoed so my face was closer to his. “We must trust in them. After all, they brought us together. This can’t be wrong.”
“I don’t like it,” he growled.
“It does not matter what you like,” said Grindolvek, his voice vibrating with magick.
Suddenly, I was no longer next to Goll but standing a mere foot from Grindolvek like I’d vanished in one place and appeared in another. My vision was hazed with a film of green.
Goll bellowed near the stream, “Una!” Feyfire burst to life in his open palms as he spun around, looking for me.
His voice sounded so far away, but he wasn’t far across the clearing. Everything looked strange through the green filmy netting that seemed to envelop me.
Keffa and Soryn put their backs to Goll as the flash of a green-limbed creature sped past Soryn and slashed across his face then disappeared up a tree. Soryn yelled and growled upward, swiping the air and grabbing nothing.
Another flash of a naiad, this one hit Keffa in the knee as it swept past. Goll shot a blast of feyfire which hit nothing but a bush that burst into flame. A wing of water swept out of the stream dousing the burning bush.
I stepped toward them, but Grindolvek grabbed my arm. “They won’t hurt them. Come with me.” Then he let go of me, turned, and disappeared into the grove of trees. “This way,” he called back calmly.
“Una!” cried out Goll, all while he, Soryn, and Keffa fought the extraordinarily fast and slippery naiads whose laughter echoed from the canopy. Goll shot another stream of feyfire toward the branches.
Then I saw Pullo, Meck, and Ferryn appear, blades drawn and savage expressions.
