The Twice-Scorned Lady of Shadow (The Guild Codex: Unveiled #3)(23)
“If you don’t know how,” he said with a final chuckle, “I’d rather you didn’t learn.”
“That’s not fair. If you can do it, I should be able to as well.”
“Life’s not fair.”
“Zak!”
He laughed again, and I couldn’t do anything but stare at him as he started walking, our hands entwined as though neither of us intended to let go.
CHAPTER NINE
Tilliag’s hooves thudded steadily against a thick layer of fallen leaves and brown pine needles. Astride his back, I sat behind Zak with my hands on his waist. The air had grown steadily cooler as we moved north, the sky threatening rain. I’d zipped my sweater up under my chin, and I wished I could press against Zak’s body heat without getting a face-full of his slim backpack.
We’d been traveling northward for hours, and I knew we were well into the Shadow Court’s territory. I could sense it in the air—the thrum of fae power. It wasn’t a pleasant feeling. The Gardall’kin fae had a harsh, slippery energy that tasted of night and decay.
The woods weren’t noticeably different from the landscape we’d passed through on our way here, but the shadows beneath the forest canopy were inexplicably darker. The trees were more twisted, the air thicker than it should have been. Even without my druid senses, I would’ve found this place eerie.
The ominous aura didn’t appear to affect Grenior and Keelar. The two vargs trekked silently through the trees on our left, noses dipping toward the ground as they checked scents. They’d met us a kilometer beyond the destroyed valley that had once been Zak’s home, and Tilliag had appeared a few minutes later, stomping his hooves and complaining about having to wait so long for Zak’s return.
My gaze flicked to the right. Ghosting through the underbrush was a pale shape, larger than the vargs and even more graceful: Ríkr, padding through the forest in his stunning wolfhound form. His thick white fur glimmered in the overcast light, small golden antlers rising from his forehead just in front of his wolf-like ears.
He’d decided on the wolfhound for its intimidation factor, and also to reserve his humanlike form in case we needed another card to play. I hoped we wouldn’t, but with not one but two tasty druids walking right into their arms, the fae of the Shadow Court might decide on an impromptu feast.
Should we expect an immediate audience? Ríkr asked, pausing between two pine trees with his ears perked forward. Or must we demand one?
“They already know we’re here,” Zak said. “Assuming it goes like normal, a few members of the court will show up to greet us.”
I hope they come soon, Tilliag complained. I have already carried you across mountains and waited while you frolicked in a human city.
“Frolicked?” Zak muttered.
The court will greet you? Blue eyes gleamed in the gloom as Ríkr glanced our way. Your rapport with the ruthless Gardall’kin is more intimate than I imagined.
Zak rolled his shoulders, the muscles in his sides tensing under my hands. “Marzanna, the queen, has always favored me, and the rest of the court followed her lead. If she’s changed her tune, however, this won’t go well.”
How did you curry favor with a Shadow Queen, I wonder? Ríkr mused.
“Queen of Death, actually,” Zak corrected. “It’s called the Shadow Court because the Gardall’kin all have shadow abilities of some sort, but Marzanna’s most dangerous power is her death magic.”
That news didn’t bolster my confidence. “Is your plan to ask about Lallakai and Echo, then leave?”
“Yes. All I want is information. Marzanna might be friendly with me, but I don’t want to owe her anything.”
A queen’s ire carries great risks, Ríkr remarked. I will aspire to charm her of any animosity.
“I seriously doubt that’ll work,” Zak replied.
Nonsense. I am very charming.
I rolled my eyes. “Unless you’re going to flirt with her, Ríkr, you should focus on intimidation instead.”
His annoyed chuff carried through the quiet woods. I feel I am being doubly insulted.
Your canine form lacks appeal, Tilliag told him. It bears no majesty or elegance.
Elegance of mind is required to recognize elegance of form, Ríkr replied. You possess neither.
“Enough.” Zak pointed ahead. “They’re waiting.”
I leaned around him to squint through the trees. An intangible darkness blanketed the forest, and as Tilliag continued forward, it was like we were walking into an unnatural night. The gray sky faded to a midnight-blue hue, and faintly glowing, electric colors shimmered over the tree trunks. The undersides of the leaves shone silver, and the delicate fronds of ferns sparkled fluorescent pink.
We’d drifted out of human reality and into the borderlands of the fae demesne. Mist eddied among the trunks, and the buzz of fae power in the air thickened until I could taste it in the back of my throat.
The trees parted, revealing a dark glade dotted with a thousand white flowers. Hovering above them, hundreds of neon-purple fireflies fluttered in an endless dance. The remains of an ancient structure rose from the ground: smooth columns covered in moss and vines, grand archways, and carved railings. I couldn’t tell what sort of building had once stood here, but what remained was alien and beautiful even as it crumbled.