Of course, that hope comes crashing down when a spiral of red toadstools appears in the centre of the standing stones. Each fungus is the size of my palm, their shiny caps gleaming in the afternoon sun, and the shrine keeper practically falls over himself with praises.
By the time we’re in the saddle again, I’m achy, tired, and I want nothing more than to fall straight into bed. But the hardest part is yet to come.
“This is where we must leave you,” Kitarni says, as our party reaches a fork in the road. “Nicnevin, which direction is Caed in? We’ll find him and then ride along the banks of the river to Pavellen.”
I hesitate, then search for the cutting presence inside me. My hand moves instinctively, pointing west, back the way we came. “Not far.”
The rest of my Guard sits up a little straighter. “Is he following us?” Drystan demands.
I shake my head, then nod, then shake it again before slumping in the saddle. “It’s hard to tell. He’s getting closer right now, but it’s not constant like he’s actively pursuing us. I’m tired, and I haven’t been keeping track.”
“We’ll travel back a little and try to sneak up on them,” Kitarni decides. “It makes sense that he’d want to stick close to you, given his curse.”
“Try to rest,” Bram offers, riding closer until he’s within touching distance. “I’ll keep your high priestess safe, and we’ll meet again in the city.”
I reach out, dragging him into an awkward hug that almost ends with me toppling from Blizzard’s back.
“Enough,” Drystan snaps, grabbing the collar of my jacket and pulling me back into the saddle as Blizzard side-steps to put distance between us. The moment Bram and I are broken apart, I’m surrounded by a glowing golden shield.
When the barrier dissipates, Jaro mutters a frustrated apology for his wayward magic. He’s not the only one who’s had a severe reaction to my innocent goodbye. I catch sight of Lore on the back of Bram’s horse. The redcap crouches there for a second, scrunching his nose, before blinking back onto Wraith’s back like he’s thought better of whatever he planned to do.
Or his magic misfired again.
Even Bree’s ears have flattened atop his head. And are those… snake fangs? I glance down to find his hand on his arm, touching the snake tattoo there before he catches me looking and releases his hold on the magic, looking away in shame.
“Drystan.” I frown.
“It’s okay,” Bram reassures us all. “I get it. Her fever is definitely there.”
What? “But he’s my brother.”
“The forces that govern a fever don’t make those kinds of distinctions,” Kitarni advises. “Any fae who gets too close is a threat as far as your mates’ instincts are concerned. Males more than most, since it’s obvious that’s your preference.”
That’s ridiculous, but then again, it’s hardly the most unbelievable thing that’s happened today.
“We will see you soon,” Kitarni promises. “When you arrive in the city, everything will be ready. Remember to have that talk.”
She looks at my brother, who nods, and the two of them dismount, leaving my Guard and I to carry on along the main road.
“Pick up the pace,” Jaro says, moving his horse beside Blizzard. “We need more distance between us and Caed before we bed down for the night.”
Something in my gut twists, remembering the last time we camped down in the Spring Court, only to be ambushed by Caed. My thighs groan, and my belly growls as Drystan spurs us away from Kitarni and Bram without a second thought, leaving them in the dust as he sets a new, harder pace.
I try to return to my aura work, and a couple of times, I think I manage a glimpse of gold. Unfortunately, I’m concentrating so hard that I soon manage to develop a headache on top of everything else.
“Is there anything else to eat?” I ask, an hour into the ride, when the road has disappeared entirely, becoming a wide flat meadow, and I just can’t take it anymore.
I’m miserable, and although I was prepared for such a long day on horseback, it’s been hard. Perhaps food will settle my head, which is now pounding in earnest. I wish it could do something about the itching, but I’ve resigned myself to suffering in silence.
Drystan—who until now has been deep in discussion with Jaro about the precautions they can take in case Caed does show up, and ignoring me entirely—snaps his head down to look at me. At the same time, the wolf shifter’s nostrils flare.
“Rosie, why are you bleeding?” Jaro demands, urging his mare closer.
Drystan grabs my hand and pulls it away from my neck where I’ve been scratching.
My nails are red. I’ve drawn blood.
But instead of turning on me, as I expect him to, Drystan rounds on Jaromir. “I thought you took care of her this morning!”
