Road To Winter (Fae's Captive #2)(20)

“Me too.” That is a train I’m happy to ride. “Carbs are life.”

“Carbs?” Leander blows against my nape again, and I want to moan.

“Carbohydrates. What bread is mostly made of.”

“Spoken like a true alchemist.” He says it with pride.

“I’m not an alchemist. Just an almost-chemist. Not the same. And besides, it’s pretty common knowledge that bread has carbs. It’s why I love it so much. Carbs are my jam.”

“I know jam. We have an entire store room at High Mountain full of it.” I can hear the smile in his voice. “Any flavor you’d like.”

I laugh and lean against him. His chest has become my back pillow and his arms my seatbelt. “In that case, I’ll be sure to raid the jam room when we arrive.” But then I’ll go home. A pang of hurt slashes through me at the thought. The idea of leaving is still my goal, but somehow, each day I spend with Leander, it gets harder to think about. Not to mention the bonds I’ve built with Beth and Gareth. I don’t have anything like it back home—my only pseudo-friend, Cecile, is the one who sent me here, so she’s more of a backstabbing enemy. I still ponder why she did it but haven’t been able to piece it together. Then a thought stings me like wasp, and I almost jump off the horse.

“Hang on. HANG ON!” I yell so loud that Kyrin startles.

“What?” Leander tenses and draws his sword.

“Byrn Varyndr.” I clap a hand over my face.

“The capital of the summer realm?” Leander’s voice is tight and wary. “What about it?”

“It translates to Long Island.” I grit my teeth as some pieces of the puzzle click together. “I didn’t realize it until I learned fae, and I didn’t think about it until right this second. But in English, it means Long Island.”

“You lost me.” Beth’s eyebrows crinkle.

“Cecile always said she came from Long Island!” I take a breath and try to keep my voice calm; I’ve scared Kyrin enough. “And see, I thought she meant Long Island, New York, but all along I think what she really meant was Byrn Varyndr.”

Beth’s eyebrows unknot. “So your roommate is a summer realm fae?”

“Yes!” Kyrin jumps a little, and I pet his mane. “Sorry, buddy. I’m going to be quieter. But yeah, I think that must be it. She’s a summer realm fae, maybe some sort of exchange? I don’t know.”

“Exchanges don’t realize they’re fae.” Leander stows his sword. “She’s something else. Fae, but not a traditional exchange.”

“Then what is she doing over there?” Beth gnaws on her thumbnail. “I’ve never heard of anything like it.”

“Neither have I.” Gareth frowns. “We’ll need to speak with Ravella about it when we get to High Mountain. She’s the only one who may know how Cecile is in the human world, and why she sent you here, for that matter.”

I sigh and settle down. One thing has become clear, but the rest of it is still hidden from me. All these questions bumping around in my skull are beginning to tangle with each other, the wires crossing. Leander seems to hear the noise in my head and rubs my upper arms slowly, pulling my thoughts away from the mystery until I focus on his gentle touches instead.

Gareth leads us to the river, the surface covered in a low fog dotted with whorls, as if something spins below the surface. A wide bridge made of splintering timbers and mossy stone is the only way across from what I can see. A buggy approaches, and a man with a pair of skeletal wings jutting from his back gives us a simple nod as he passes.

“What was that?” I try not to stare.

“Lesser fae. They can be a mix of different races but have a line of high fae blood in them.”

“Why do you call them lesser? Seems sort of … snobby.”

Leander sighs. “It’s simply the way it’s always been. An easy way to delineate between full-blooded high fae and those with mixed heritage.”

I wrinkle my nose. “Even if you don’t mean it as an insult, it doesn’t mean it’s right. ‘Lesser’ has a negative connotation, no matter how you say it.”

“I agree.” Leander steers us to the side of the road as another, larger buggy passes.

“Leander tried to change the classifications of beings in the winter realm long ago, but the distinctions still persist.” Gareth leads, his broad back hiding Beth from view. “He wanted to do away with the separate classes and simply have ‘fae’.” Gareth grumbles under his breath. “The nobles, though, would not have it, threatened outright rebellion. We didn’t need more bloodshed, not after the centuries we’d already spent at war. At least, that was my counsel. Leander wanted to decree it, the nobles be damned.”

“They’re fools,” Leander says matter-of-factly.

“They are. But we need stability,” Gareth’s words seem like pieces of an argument the two fae have had quite a few times. He waves a hand. “That discussion is for another day. For now, Taylor and Beth, be on your guard at all times. Don’t speak to anyone.”

“We’ll come back to the discussion, and my queen will have a voice in it.” Leander squeezes my hand. “But Gareth is right. Blood Run is a pit, one we can’t afford to fall into. Gareth and I will conduct our business, gather supplies, and then we’ll be off.”