Road To Winter (Fae's Captive #2)(18)

Beth collects the rest of the dishes and grins. “Taylor,” she calls and hitches a thumb behind her. “The stream is that way.”

“Oh.” My mate’s cheeks color a sweet pink as she huffs past lugging the stew pot.

“Spirited.” Thorn nods.

“She’s certainly got a mind of her own.” I stretch out my legs and rise, my senses attuned to each of her steps.

“I’d expect nothing less of your mate.” Thorn clears his throat. “But, perhaps you haven’t noticed, she’s a changeling.”

“Of course he’s noticed, Thorn.” Gareth kicks dirt onto the low flames.

“I meant that in a charming fashion.”

“Charm somewhere else.” Gareth finishes snuffing the fire.

Thorn picks a piece of gristle from his teeth. “I’m only saying that it’s an interesting pairing and one that might cause some issues with a handful of the old guard nobles.”

“She’s a changeling.” I shrug. “But she’s my mate. If anyone has a problem with her, then they have a problem with me. And as you know, I’m a problem solver.” Aggression boils through my tone.

“And then there’s the little problem of longevity.” Thorn tucks his dark gray hair behind his ear. “She will die.”

“There has to be some way to change that.” I glance over my shoulder to make sure she’s not listening in. “There are magics that can reshape her fate.”

Thorn whistles. “Only the dark can do that. And the price you’d have to pay—”

“Would be too high.” Gareth stands and meets my eye. “You know how magic works, Leander. It takes and takes and takes. Something like this? I’ve never heard of it being possible, but if it is, you can be sure it will have a terrible price.”

“Then I’ll pay it,” I snap. “I will never allow her to suffer and die, not when I’ve finally found her.”

Gareth shares a warning look with Thorn.

I force myself to lower my tone. “One thing at a time. We need to get across the border. The winter winds will soothe my feral fae, and I’ll be able to think more clearly about her and deal with the trouble building along our borders. Thorn, fly back to High Mountain and send Brannon to investigate. Give word that we’re returning, but keep the information about Taylor to yourself. Have the rest of the Phalanx wait for us at the Timeroon border crossing. We’ll be there in a fortnight at the latest. Go.”

“Yes, sire.” Thorn gives me a brief lowering of his head before turning and running. In a flash, he turns into a silver hawk and pumps his mighty wings, shooting up through the trees and wheeling away into the sun.

“Why does he always have to do a dramatic exit?” Gareth peers after him. “Showboat.”

“He’s loyal.” I rub my temples. “But he’s an ass.”

“Same can be said for the entire Phalanx.” Gareth smiles. “I like to think I’m the most stubborn of all of us, though. Pride myself on it.”

“I tend to agree.” I clap him on the back, my dark mood lessening. “Let’s get ready to ride. The winter realm beckons.”

“I feel it, too.” He pounds his chest. “Ice calls to ice.”

I stride through the woods as Gareth packs up camp. Beth and Taylor are returning from the stream, Taylor complaining that Beth barely let her wash a dish. I can’t see them through the trees yet, but I can hear them arguing.

Beth lets out an exasperated sigh. “Look, girl, I’ve been doing cooking and laundry and scrubbing since I was a wee one.”

“So?”

“So, your technique needs work.”

Taylor grumbles as they appear just up ahead. “I washed dishes some when I lived at home. But in college I didn’t have to do dishes or cook. I mean, I subsisted on Hot Pockets and ramen most of the time. Give me a microwave and some paper plates, and I can show you what I’m made of.”

“You speak fae, but nothing you just said made any sense.”

Taylor wrinkles her nose. “It’s technology. It makes life easier.”

“Sounds like nonsense to me. Give me a good pot and a fire, and I can make anything your heart desires.” Beth brushes past me.

I put out a hand to stop Taylor. “A word?”

Beth takes the bowls from Taylor and continues toward camp.

“What is it?” Her irritation with Beth bleeds over to me.

“I wanted to ask about…” About what you said about people changing, but not for the better. But the way she looks now—slightly dejected and frustrated—has me changing my mind. “About Hot Pockets. What are they?” When she said the phrase the first time, a certain image came to mind, but surely that’s not what she’s referring to. Couldn’t be.

“Oh.” She smiles, some of the tension leaving her. “They’re food. Like sort of bread wrapped around ham and cheese or pepperoni pizza—cheese and tomato sauce. They’re super easy to cook and best of all, cheap. Like ramen. Those are noodles that don’t cost a lot.”

“Did you go without in the human world?”

She shrugs as a bird sings overhead, its song bright and warm. “I didn’t always have food to eat, no.” Her gaze falls, as if she’s hiding her face from me. “My mom was gone a lot when I was a kid, so I had to take care of myself. And in college, I’m there on scholarship, but I didn’t have extra money. I worked, but what I made got spent on books and my dorm room.”