“Holy fuck! Slow down, would you?” I finally shouted at him, and thankfully, he stopped long enough for me to reach his side. “I have short legs!” I berated him.
“Shall I carry you under my arm?” he suggested with a quirk of his mouth and a rise of one brow.
“Just walk at a normal speed!”
He grunted noncommittally but did continue onward at a pace that I could more easily keep up with. Although we were still moving much faster than I would have liked.
“So what is everyone doing?” I asked him after darting under a pile of poles being carried by two fey. I thought they looked like tent posts.
“We had a flood of new recruits when word spread about the Spring Court. We are making room for them,” Ciaran explained over his shoulder.
“Silver linings, I guess,” I muttered, and then frowned at my use of a human saying that Amira had taught me. “Why are the Spring fey diminishing so quickly, anyway? Autumn was an adjustment for me, but even after all this time here, it’s never impacted my ability to use magic.”
“You and Aodhan had the essence of an Autumn Court fey within you,” he pointed out. “You also have ananamwho is native to Autumn. Perhaps that factors in.”
I pressed my lips together and nodded, unwilling to discuss the subject further, but I guess it was too much to hope that his evident apathy could continue.
“Look… I am sorry about Sage—” he began.
“Shut the fuck up.”
“Excuse me?” he gaped, stopping and turning to glare down at me in disbelief.
“I asked you to shut the fuck up. We are not friends, and if I am being honest, I prefer it that way right now.”
He was silent, eying me steadily as if those tabby eyes could already pierce through me and read my thoughts.
“Aodhan was like that too,” he said after a moment. “He hated sympathy.”
I frowned, waiting for him to make his point, but he merely turned away to end the conversation and formed a portal so we could reach our destination faster.
I was happy to oblige him and followed him into it.
Chapter nine
ESSENCE OF THE TITHRIALL
Ornella
We emerged from Ciaran’s portal in front of a yurt that was five times the size of any of the others in the camp with a double curtain at the entrance. Its roof also rose to a peak instead of a dome, and its canvas walls were made of a colourful woven fabric rather than animal hides.
But not even the grandeur of the yurt could captivate me when there were two míntír troll males standing guard in front of it. Their kind were so elusive that I could not help admiring the pale flaxen colour of their complexion or the texture of their hair that looked like dried grass. They were easily twice my height, even slightly hunched over with rounded shoulders and robust arms. Their broad faces were flat aside from two tusks that protruded from either side of their lower jaws.
“Come on!” Ciaran hissed impatiently, making me roll my eyes, but I tore my attention from the trolls.
I followed the aes sídhe male between the guardians and into the giant tent where Ciaran was stopped almost immediately for a debrief. I took the opportunity to tip my head back and took in the peaked ceiling so high above before I glanced at the Spring fey. The wide-open tent seemed to typically function as a mess hall, but the tables were pushed against the walls to make room for hundreds of refugees. They huddled around dozens of firesas they were attended to by Autumn fey warriors, but many of them still looked half frozen.
I hissed in horror at the sight and immediately moved toward the nearest fey, which happened to be an Aigéan nymph and her offspring. The mother was curled around her two infants, trying to preserve them, but the natural sapphire blue of their smooth scales had gone slate grey. Frost clung to the mother’s hair and the delicate tips of her frilly, coral-like ears. The thin webbing between her long spindly fingers was obviously frostbitten.
“Now you understand my urgency,” Ciaran grumbled as he knelt next to me while I hurriedly funnelled healing magic into the three fey.
My magic had almost been depleted after saving Rian the night before, but I was able to muster my strength for the nymphs. It would not have been enough for all of the Spring fey in the tent, but luckily, the nymphs seemed to be the most sensitive to the Autumn cold. The others were in slightly better spirits around them.
The mother sighed, shivering violently once my magic had thawed her, and then both of her tiny babies began to cry against her chest. I thought their shrill voices sounded eerily similar to the shrieking of gulls.
“This is not going to work,” I muttered to myself.
“What do you mean?” Ciaran asked, taking my arm to pull me away from the others so we were not overheard.
