The Centaur Queen (The Dark Queens #7)(5)
Not surprising, considering his sole purpose in life was to stealthily blend into his surroundings so as to abduct and pleasure a tree nymph all his livelong days. A satyr’s life was one of frivolity, drunkenness, and slothfulness.
But in the short month I’d known him, I couldn’t honestly call Petra any of those things. He’d never once touched the hard cider in the games, he was early to bed and early to rise, and hadn’t once tried to make any sort of lewd or sexual move on me. Though he did not seem to recall the kiss, I’d been the one to initiate it.
My female form was comely enough, but I did have a horse’s legs, which made me different than a satyr’s typical conquests. Not that I minded. I generally found men tedious and fit only to slack my occasional lusts.
If there was any prettiness to Petra at all, it was his eyes. I oftentimes found myself inventing some reason or other to speak with him simply so that I could gaze upon his eyes. To call them moss green would be an understatement. They were intensely and vividly green, like crushed emeralds glinting in sunlight, stunningly clear and hypnotic. They cut through me like daggers. I’d never been one to be envious of much, but I did sometimes wonder how many nymphs he’d bedded simply by turning those beautiful eyes upon them.
He frowned, and I realized I’d been staring at him. Coughing, I pounded my chest, and shook my head a tiny bit.
“Are you alr—”
“Fine. It was nothing.” I waved his words off. The mere thought that I could find anything even remotely attractive about a satyr had me feeling queer. Shaking my head to get my thoughts reorganized, I said, “Anyway, I think we should seek out the fairy realm.”
His eyes widened. “Why there?”
Thinking back on our days inside the games, I recalled all the strange moments looking through the seeing disk into the other queen’s realms. Time and again, my thoughts had returned to Galeta the Blue. I wasn’t sure why I’d been drawn to her realm as I had, considering there’d never been anything to see. She’d lived in a dark zone, unlike the rest of the queens.
But maybe that was the point exactly.
When I peered into the disk at the others, I saw them doing everything. And by everything, I meant everything—eating, sleeping, talking, sometimes even mating. Nothing had been hidden from me. But when I had tried to see the Blue, it had all been one colossal, vexing mystery, as though the games shielded her secrets so that none could learn them.
“In the games, I saw nothing when I studied the Blue, as if she’d been hidden from me. But why?” I rolled my wrist, knowing he’d have no answer, but awaiting a response all the same.
When he gestured for me to proceed, I did.
“Then there’s the harpy. Several times, she referenced Galeta when she did no others. The fairy queen is the key to all of this somehow. We just need to figure out how.”
He nodded. “But since we’re back home, should we not check in on our friends and family, make certain that they’re alright?”
His question was valid, but time was pressing. I sensed this to be a fact. The seeing disk hadn’t been lost when we’d been tossed through the travel tunnel because I’d always kept it stored in my magicked pouch.
Slipping the glass out of the pouch, I held it out to him. “Time, I fear, is not our friend, Petra. But perhaps this seeing disk could give you your answers.”
Relief glittered in his eyes as he stared down at the hammered-silver disk. Curling his fingers tightly around it, he gave me a nod of intense appreciation. Again, I wondered what secrets my companion kept.
“Thank you, Ty.”
I dipped my head, but said no more on it. “Perhaps we should sleep. We have a long journey ahead of us tomorrow.”
“Aye.” And so saying, he lay down and stared into the fire, and I knew the conversation was at an end.
Feeling restless, I wanted nothing more than to start our quest posthaste. But it was dark now. Wild magic still roamed these woods. Curling my legs beneath me, I closed my eyes, entering a trance-like state of calm.
It was the only way for me to sleep. Ever. If I didn’t trance myself, my brain would remain active and wired, keeping me awake all night long, churning with thoughts upon thoughts upon thoughts like waves rolling upon a shore.
I’d just gotten myself settled when I felt the faint stirrings of wind at my back. Eyes popping open immediately, I frowned. The air suddenly smelled of the rime of ice, and magic breathed against my flesh.
The fire crackled, turning from a warm, golden amber to a deep, brilliant blue.
“Petra,” I whispered.
Clearly not in a deep sleep, he sat up instantly. “What? What is it?” His hand brushed over his head, causing the ends of his hair to stick up haphazardly in all directions.
“I don’t—”
Suddenly, the fire rose higher and higher, turning into a pillar. At its center was a burning doorway. A disembodied voice whispered through the night.
“Tymanon. Petra.” Instantly I recognized the voice as belonging to Galeta the Blue. “Come to me. We have much to discuss.”
The fiery crackle and burn mingled with the icy wash of wind at my back, covering my flesh in a swath of goose pimples.
Petra’s thick eyebrows were raised high on his forehead. “Do we trust this?”
Never having set aside my bow, I stood swiftly to my hooves and trotted around the burning pillar, looking for any proof that this magic was not of the fairy’s making. But the icy cold of it was her hallmark. And the deep curls of blue were definitely familiar. By the time I returned to where I’d started, Petra had stood and was looking at me with a question in his eyes. “Do we go, or do we stay?”