Page 59 of Woods of the Raven

“What was with none of those guys attacking Nott? You’d think they would have rushed her instead of just freezing once she shot the first guy.”

“But she was shooting iron bolts, and if she decided to hit them in anything vital, they’d be dead in seconds. As it was, that one guy was in agony.”

“Why?”

“They were all from the fae realm, just like our friend here is,” I said, touching one of the faun’s small horns. “And iron is bad for them.”

“Isn’t Nott from the fae realm?”

“No. She’s from Arcadia or Delphi or Nemea—”

“You’re talking about places that exist in mythology.”

“No, they exist in different realms.”

He was going to ask more questions, I knew interest when I saw it, but the faun took that moment to shriek, sit up fast, and scramble back against the wall, wrapping his arms around his legs. It looked odd since he was wearing human clothes that fit his upper body well, but shoes on hooves weren’t really working.

“You’re all right,” I soothed him.

He only stared at me.

“Is there a Declan Grant at all, or was that always just you?”

Quick breath through his nose. “Always me. I’ve always wanted to be human.”

I nodded and sat back, crossing my legs. “Go ahead and redo the glamour. I won’t remove it again.”

Blink-of-an-eye fast, I was looking at the beautiful man who’d been at my stall earlier in the day.

“I know you didn’t kill the girl Chief MacBain here found,” I told him. Fauns were not killers. They couldn’t. It went against their natures. “But did you assist in her kidnapping?”

“Oh no,” he replied quickly. “No, no. I was sent to watch you, report on you, get you interested in me if possible, and then have you take me into your home.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know,” he stressed, glancing at Lorne and then back at me. “Truly.”

“There was a member of the fae on my property the other night.”

He nodded. “I know. That was Sola, and Rulaine, my mistress, was certain he was powerful enough to defeat either a mage, or if the reports were wrong, a bruane.”

“What’s a bruane?” Lorne asked me.

“It means like a…” I looked at the faun for help, gesturing at him to jump in. “A witch with no hereditary line, right?”

“Yes,” he said, smiling at me before looking at Lorne. “A witch whose practice leads to them finding and growing their own power is a bruane, a fire-seed or birthed-from-within witch. It takes much scholarship and practice.”

“Okay,” Lorne said, shifting around so he was sitting with his long muscular legs stretched out, leaning back, palms flat on the floor.

The faun, or technically, now Declan, leaned off the wall and crossed his legs just as I was as he continued to address Lorne. “A born witch, from a line of witches, is a rodin witch, or what’s referred to as bloodstained.”

“Got it. Bruane and rodin, one made through hard work and perseverance and the other born with power.”

“Yes. Excellent,” Declan complimented him.

“Thanks.”

Declan turned to me. “You were thought to be a very formidable mage, but apparently Rulaine got that wrong as you’re not one of those at all.”