Heart of the Fae (The Otherworld #1)(53)

It was as if she watched dancers. Although Stone was clearly the larger of the two, he spun in the air and blocked each parry easily. The stones did not seem to hinder his movements. In fact, he used them to his advantage.

The other pivoted off a target and thrust himself high into the air. It was a killing blow if he landed where he wished. Stone kept his sword at his side and grasped the descending blade in a crystal fist. He used the momentum to pound his fist into the other man's face.

Sorcha winced at the cracking sound and forced herself to remain in place when the dark man dropped to the ground. He rolled on his shoulder, ending up on his feet, and shaking his head.

Blood dripped from his nose, but he appeared to be laughing.

“So that was where you got the crystals on your knuckles from,” she whispered.

Stone had punched so many people, or things, that he had worn the flesh from the crystals underneath. That was the closest thing she could think of, for surely a curse was the cause of his affliction. Stone was clearly Seelie. No one else would be as beautiful, even with such disfigurement.

What did it all mean?

She shook her head and sank deeper into the grass as the two men clapped each other on the shoulders. She could already hear the scolding tone he would use when he realized she had spied on him. Or perhaps he wouldn’t scold at all. Perhaps he would draw her into those strong arms, those rock-hard muscles. What would he smell like? Like musk and man? Or like straw and grass?

The unknown man cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted, “Why your highness, I do believe we’re being watched!”

Sorcha’s cheeks turned bright red. She ducked until her chin touched the ground. Surely, they couldn’t see her? The grass was tall enough to cover her twice over if she laid down like this.

There was a grumbling reply she could not quite understand. Peeking up over the grass, she locked eyes with the strange new arrival. She could see his grin all the way from where she was.

He waggled his fingers. “Hello, red-headed lass! You’re a long way from home.”

Sorcha supposed she could stay laying in the grass until they gave up, but he would still know. She had been spying like a little school girl who didn’t know any better. She might as well grit her teeth and be an adult.

Standing felt as if she accepted her punishment. She might if Stone decided he wanted to be the dictator today. The last thing she needed was another repeat of their first night.

She didn’t look up as she walked towards their practice range. Head down, she counted each step and curled her hands into fists. She could do this without embarrassing herself. She was looking for more yarrow. Pooka would need it, and the stores were low.

Why would Pixie send her all this way if she was only going to embarrass herself? Surely the faerie had known her master was practicing.

Sorcha almost stopped in her place. That was exactly why the Pixie had sent her here. What was she up to?

By the time she reached the fence, she was red as a tomato. Sorcha worried her cheeks might be smoking.

She looked up directly into a caramel colored chest. Her gaze traveled farther up, catching on the dark “smudge” on his face that wasn’t dirt at all. Tiny dark feathers covered one side of his face, his eye that of a raven, not a man.

She recognized that yellow eye. Full of intelligence, far too human, and watching her with chagrin. The raven had been far more than just a beast after all.

“Bran?”

He swept into a low bow and looked up through the curtain of his hair, grinning. “M’lady. It is a rarity to see such bewitching beauty on Hy-brasil.”

“If anyone would know, it would be you.” She curtseyed in return. “My apologies, I was looking for yarrow.”

“Ah, then you had no luck?”

“I’m afraid not.”

“I believe there is some directly behind you, fair lady.”

She glanced over her shoulder and cursed. “There certainly is.”

There went her lie. The Fae could sniff it out anyways, they were incapable of lying. She flicked a glance towards Stone, who stood as still as his namesake with his back to her.

“I had no idea you would be practicing,” she began. “I was told a walk would clear my head after dealing with the Pooka. You did hear about the boy, didn’t you?”

A droplet of sweat traveled down the valley of Stone’s spine. Muscles bunched on either side, stymied only by the protrusion of crystals. “I had not.”

“He broke his arm while climbing a tree. I’ve set the bone and packed the wound with yarrow, but they will need to watch for infection.”

“And why are you telling me this?”

Bran cleared his throat. “I’m glad to hear the boy is well. I apologize for lying all this time to you, beautiful thing that you are.”

“You’ve followed me since the MacNara twins,” she murmured while casting a curious glance towards Stone, who still hadn’t moved.

“I rarely trust the MacNara twins, and when I saw one such as you entering their home? I had to follow you. My honor simply wouldn’t allow for anything else.”

She wasn’t certain he had that much honor. A man who hid himself from a woman in the form of a raven was unlikely to be a gentleman. From the top of his half-shaved head, to the bottom of his taloned feet, this was a man she’d have a hard time trusting.