Page 36 of Fae Mates

Pokeweed lay face-down on the scorched earth, his overalls in tatters, and his brown hair drenched. A band of pain gripped my chest and pushed the breath out of my lungs.

McVittie padded to his side and sniffed. “He’s breathing.”

I knelt on the damp earth, rolled Pokeweed onto his back, and raised his head onto my lap. The skin beneath his fur was still warm from the exertion of a fight.

“Pokeweed?” I pulled his hair off his face.

He didn’t answer.

“We’ve got to get him inside before those guards return,” said McVittie.

“Could you go upstairs and get the harness, please?” I met the cat’s sad, yellow eyes. “He can’t be alone at a time like this.”

“Right.” McVittie disappeared into the tree, and I ran my fingers through Pokeweed’s silken hair.

“I’ve been nothing but a nuisance,” I whispered. “This is all my fault, and I can’t even tell you that I’m sorry.”

If it wasn’t for the gentle puff of air leaving his nostrils, I would have thought Pokeweed was dead.

The wind rustled the leaves overhead, shaking down ashes and burned leaves. It also carried the sound of splashes, shouts, and outraged croaks. I glanced around the orchard, looking for signs of the guards’ return, but the place remained tranquil. Moments later, an equine scream rang through my eardrums. The guards had probably found the kelpie I had met at the palace’s moat.

“Here.” McVittie appeared from behind with the harness between his teeth. The cat dropped it on the ground and sat back, panting.

“Thank you.” I placed the harness on Pokeweed’s prone body and waited for the magic to do its work. After the iron-infused rope wrapped itself around his chest and arms, I eased Pokeweed back to the ground and tugged on its leash.

With the greatest of care, I dragged Pokeweed through the treehouse’s entrance. The ground beneath us turned from scorched earth to soft, cool moss, and I blew a sigh of relief. If they had needed to beat him up to gain access to his home, it meant that he could convalesce here safely.

The top half of his tattered overalls fell away, only to reveal a strong, unblemished body. I ran a hand down the thick, downy covering over his muscled chest and sighed. “How am I going to find an injury under all that fur?”

“I couldn’t smell blood,” said McVittie. “His injuries are probably magical.”

“Then we’d better call someone,” I said.

“And have them tell Lady Gala your whereabouts?”

My shoulders drooped. “Pokeweed got injured because of us. If we had told him our plans before setting off, he might have suggested keeping Prince August in another tree. Or warned us about the guards.”

McVittie bowed his head. “Who do you suggest we call?”

“I have a few friends.”

After settling Pokeweed on my bed, I found one of his jackets, slipped it over my shoulders, and set off down the tunnels in the direction of the remedial building. I wasn’t completely sure that I was going the right way, so I exited via the nearest tree and found myself standing at the border of the part of the woods that backed onto the stables.

Wild horses grazed within a meadow that stretched around the back of the stables and the remedial building, along with a few sheep and goats.

Keeping my head high, I crossed the meadow in case an invisible guard was on the lookout for clues related to the disappearance of Prince August. Nobody grabbed me as I passed through the paved patio and into the remedial building’s stone hallway.

Inside the gymnasium, remedial students dove off high boards and landed on nets that stretched the entire length and width of the vast room. I glanced around for signs of Flora but instead found Mr. Whittaker standing by the door.

“Sir?” I whispered.

He turned around. “Can I help yo—” His eyes widened. “They told me you were dead.”

“It’s a long story.” I shot a paranoid glance at the students, who all seemed too busy leaping and bouncing to notice any newcomers.

His brows furrowed. “Isn’t it dangerous for you to be here?”

I pushed the door open and stepped into the hallway. “Something’s happened.”