Her skin pales, and I hate to paint that awful expression on her face, but she needs to be forewarned. There will be a lot of people where we’re heading.
“And don’t be alarmed if I suddenly turn invisible. That’ll just be my glamour.”
Her eyes waver. “Your glamour? As in acloakingspell?”
“Yes. All Fae possess the ability to glamour themselves to a certain degree. It’s just harder for some of us.”
“How come?”
“Rogue Fae have limited abilities. Sadly, we have to budget our magic in order to survive. As you probably witnessed last night.”
I’m referring to the pitiful state I managed to get myself in. I need to be more careful. However, I would do it all again if it kept her safe.
Sorrow glimmers inside her jewel-like eyes, and she really does have a heart of gold. “That’s so sad. I couldn’t imagine having that kind of magic and hardly getting to use it.”
I roll my eyes, tossing my hood over my head to hide my horns. “The perks of beingRogue… Don’t worry. Not all of us are so unlucky. Fae like LordValenthave unlimited magic and resources. He can glamour himself whenever he so much as desires.”
Ivy flinches at the name. Maybe I shouldn’t have brought up that leannán sídhe.
She’s nervous as it is, and she stays close to my side when we climb down the rickety stairs and out onto the cobblestone, leaving the inn behind us forever.
Good riddance. It’s an awful place.
The bed wasfartoo lumpy.
We wind through endless alleyways until we make it to the main thoroughfare, and just as I anticipated: crowded. Horse-drawn carriages plague the filthy streets, and humans bump into one another, cursing and spouting insults.
I steer Ivy through the throngs, keeping my head bent low. Even with my hood, there’s no hiding my glowing eyes, so it’s best I don’t look at anyone too directly.
I grip her arm, trying my hardest not to extend my claws in case I hurt her. Her muscles are tense beneath my fingers, and I spy the way a few men ogle her.
I resist the urge to rip out the throat of one male who looks a little too pleased to see her. I’m strangely possessive of my ward.
Shadows dance in my peripheral vision as the darkness threatens to override my senses. It’s only exacerbated when we pass by the Temple of Myr—the humans' answer to a god.
There is only one God in my eyes, and that is Maghelena, the mother herself. Not the heathen whom these humans blindly revere.
Hordes of homeless people hover along the steps of the temple, hoping for some respite from their pestilence and hunger, but as always, their God doesn’t heed their prayers.
We pass a mother with young children. The children are dressed in old rags, and at this time of year, they will surely freeze.
Ivy stops and stares at the small family for a moment, tears shimmering in her green eyes. It’s not a sight for the faint of heart.
Even I can’t stomach looking at those freezing, starving infants.
I sigh.
Just this once…
I approach the mother, dropping alms into her pot. Her eyes widen the moment she spies the coins inside.
“May Myr bless you, kind sir!”
Thank goodness for the scarf. At least then she can’t see the face that I’m pulling.
“You’re welcome, miss.”
She continues to praise me, sending more blessings from her false god. Her smallest daughter hands me a pebble in gratitude, and I stuff it inside my coat pocket, deciding I will glamour it later. I can make it look like a gold lion or something.
