The Blood Forest (Tree of Ages #3)(10)

Finn hurried forward and wrapped her arms around Ealasaid, pulling her to her feet. She knew a Faie spell when she saw one, and also knew that no one should have to kiss anyone they wouldn’t under normal circumstances.

Maarav hopped to his feet just as the others reached them. “Unhand my bride!” he shouted, but Iseult cut him off before he could make a grab for Ealasaid, who struggled against Finn’s grasp.

“Should we hit him?” Kai asked.

Anna snickered. “I volunteer my services.” She walked right up, poked Maarav on the shoulder, then punched him as soon as he turned toward her.

He reeled back from the hit, then laughed. “My lady,” he began, looking down at Anna, “while normally I’d encourage your behavior, I’m afraid I’ve promised myself to another.” He waggled his eyebrows at her, then turned back to Ealasaid.

She had stopped struggling against Finn’s grasp and instead started to cry.

Finn frowned, taking in the loving gleam in Maarav’s eyes as he gazed at his bride. “I don’t think the spell is broken,” she groaned, then finally let Ealasaid go. She couldn’t very well hold on to the woman all night.

Free of her grasp, Ealasaid hurried to Maarav’s open arms.

Sativola stepped up to Finn’s side, observing the loving couple. “This is more embarrassing than dancing in the moonlight. Agreed?” he whispered.

Finn sighed. “I believe so, at least for Ealasaid. I think she’ll be quite appalled when she learns her first kiss went to Maarav.”

“First kiss?” Anna and Kai said together.

Finn was glad the darkness hid her blush. She wasn’t sure who her first kiss had gone to in her previous life, but in this one it had gone to Kai, also as the result of a Faie spell . . . at least on Kai’s part.

“She told me while we were on the ship together,” she explained.

“Bring them with us,” Iseult ordered, putting an end to any more talk of kissing. “Hopefully the spell with break by morning.”

Ealasaid and Maarav started kissing again.

“Perhaps one more slap, just to be sure?” Finn questioned, wanting to slap Maarav herself for taking advantage of the young girl, Faie spell or no. Naoki let out a low growl that Finn interpreted as her agreement.

Before anyone human could answer, a howl cut through the night, sending a chill down Finn’s spine. She’d heard such a howl before.

Her canine encounter with Bedelia suddenly fresh in her mind, she turned to Iseult. “That sounded like one of the Faie wolves, the ones that bit my friend. Their bites cause illness.”

“We should return to the fire,” he stated. “It should serve to keep them at bay.”

“What about the others?” Kai questioned.

Iseult shook his head. “I will not risk an encounter with the wolves.” He glanced at Finn. “Without treatment, their bites are fatal.”

Finn pawed at her hair nervously, worried about the other crewmen, though she had no desire to face the wolves again. “Perhaps they’ve already returned, and are wondering where we are,” she suggested.

Iseult put a hand on her back and guided her to begin walking in the direction of their camp.

Maarav gallantly swooped Ealasaid up into his arms, carrying her in the same direction.

Kai moved to walk at Finn’s side, opposite Iseult, with Anna beside him. “At least you weren’t the one to get Faie charmed tonight,” he whispered, leaning toward her shoulder.

Finn smiled sadly at him. “The night is still young, and the Blood Forest no longer has a boundary for us to escape.”

He let out a long sigh as their boots crunched over dried leaves and broken branches. “You’re right. It does feel just like the Blood Forest. Too bad we no longer have Anders and Branwen with us to explain the Faie lore.”

Finn nodded, deep in thought, highly doubting either of the twins were even still alive.



Anders stifled a groan. His feet were absolutely killing him. Niklas, the Traveler with whom he’d taken up company, never seemed to tire. His tall, spindly form, covered with a shapeless gray cloak, seemed to glide over the rocky ground. The land around them was barren and open, though given the season, it should have still boasted wild heather, and the monotonous hum of insects.

“The nights have been growing unusually cold,” Niklas commented, startling Anders.

Anders looked around at the softly rolling hills, gently illuminated by moonlight, surrounding the narrow dirt road they walked. It was cold, almost unbearably so, but the temperature was far down on the list of his worries.

He pushed his dirty red hair out of his face, long since freed of the braids he’d worn during his time with An Fiach, The Hunt. “I take it the cold is somehow significant to you?”

Niklas nodded, his bald head gleaming in the light of the moon. His oddly reflective eyes flicked to Anders, then back to the road ahead of them. “Faie magic often leaves a chill in the air. It’s as if the very land they tread upon hangs somewhere between reality and the in-between. It’s always cold where the barriers between the worlds are thin. The changes are happening more quickly than we predicted.”

Anders knew the we he referred to were the Cèardaman, more commonly called the Travelers. The lore had them labeled as craftsmen, but Anders had come to learn their craft was prophecy, and the keeping of history. They had many gifts, most of which Anders was sure he didn’t understand. Sometimes it felt as if Niklas stared into his very soul, yet the Traveler for some reason still required his aid to access his family’s Archives. The Travelers could not be all-knowing if they were in need of books written by humans.