Bite Of Winter (Fae's Captive #3)(30)

“Who’s the changeling riding Leander’s horse?” A female steps forward and throws her hood back revealing close-cropped curly black hair and piercing eyes.

“Ravella, this is Taylor.” Gareth dismounts, helps Beth down, then walks to me.

“Why is she on Leander’s mount?” She cocks her head at me, something like a predatory bird who’s noticed a tasty bug.

I take his hand, and he lowers me to the ground. Ravella keeps her gaze on me.

Trying not to let my teeth chatter, I say, “Hi, I’m—”

“There you are!” A familiar face appears as Thorn saunters up and hands me a thick black fur. “For you, my queen.” Then he takes a knee.

“Showboat from the Spires,” Gareth gripes under his breath.

Ravella’s eyes round as I fasten the toasty cloak around me.

“So much better.” I rub my cheek on the soft fur. “I’m Taylor.” I hold out my hand to her.

She looks at it, then immediately drops to her knee. The three fae behind her do the same.

“Don’t.” I wince. “You don’t have to do that.” I reach out, but what am I going to do? Pat her on the head? Pulling my hand back, I change tactics. “I’ve been looking forward to meeting all of you. Leander speaks so highly of his Phalanx.”

They don’t rise. I look helplessly at Gareth.

“You can offer your oaths in the morning. For now, we must get moving.” He grabs the back of Thorn’s shirt and yanks him up. “What else did you bring for the journey?”

“Granite is loaded with all manner of weapons, furs, food—everything.” He whistles, and a dark gray horse trots out from beside one of the log cabins.

Glancing around, I assume this is what an old-school Aspen would look like—a street of cabins, wood smoke on the air, snow everywhere, unbelievable mountains in the background, and so many trees. After the flat expanse of the Red Plains, this place is a wonderland.

“A fated mate?” One of the males—this one with shiny black hair and dark, sparkling eyes—rises to his feet. “How? And why isn’t Leander here?”

“We’ll discuss it on the way, Valen. Mount up, everyone. Form a wall around Taylor. Nothing touches her.”

He smiles, and he looks boyish, like maybe he isn’t as old as Gareth and Leander. “I can’t believe Thorn managed to keep his blabbermouth shut about this.”

“I was saving up for the big gesture.” Thorn winks and pulls a small bouquet of slightly crushed lilies from inside his fur cloak. “For you, my queen.” He hands them to me with a flourish.

“Um, thanks.”

Gareth continues grumbling about showboats as he lifts me onto my horse, then takes the ailing flowers and tosses them over his shoulder with a harrumph. “Taylor, you already know Thorn, and that’s Ravella.” He points. “Valen is our healer.”

The fae waves as he mounts a midnight steed.

“Hi.” My voice is quiet, shyness overcoming me.

“This is Grayhail.” He points to a particularly surly warrior who wields a warhammer bigger than my head. “And this one here is Branala, our alchemist.” She gives me a small salute, her silver eyes marking her as a summer realm fae. How did she end up here?

“Very nice to meet all of you.” I fake some confidence.

It seems to work, because they all give me a deferential nod and mount their horses.

“We’re missing Brannon. He’s off to Silksglade. And you met Phinelas in Blood Run.”

The Catcher, right. I mentally tick him off the Phalanx list.

Gareth hands Para a fur from Thorn’s stash. “And everyone, this is Para. She’s a Vundi warrior who’s sworn allegiance to Taylor.”

Para’s back is straighter than an iron rod, and she takes the openly suspicious looks from each of the fae with nothing but strength.

“Forget about me?” Beth waggles her fingers at him from her spot astride Sabre.

He tosses her a fur. “This is a changeling with a profane mouth. You may call her Beth.”

“That’s it?” She frowns at him as he mounts Sabre behind her.

“Phalanx, form up,” he barks.

They position themselves around me as Kyrin takes off at a lazy pace.

“Faster, beast.” Gareth reaches over and smacks his flank. “We need to be well into the Kingswood before sunup.”

Kyrin snorts but increases his pace, carrying me into a new world—this one white, cold, and full of wonder.





15





Leander





I can’t sit still. The inn is too confining. The air outside too warm. She’s only been gone an hour, and I’m not sure how I’m going to make it till morning. But I must. For her, I must. So, I stalk around Timeroon, walking the narrow backstreets and counting the moments until I can cross into my lands. It doesn’t help that the feral howls inside me, demanding I go to her, claim her, take her.

A lesser fae with a scorpion tail eyes me as I pass his leather shop for the third time. “What’s winter realm garbage doing in Timeroon?”

“Only a summer realm fae would rise to your pitiful taunt.” I continue on my way even though pummeling the lesser fae into the red ground doesn’t seem like a particularly bad idea. Too easy, I remind myself.