He put it back on. “—hear me now? Can you hear me? What about now?” He pulled it off. Put it back on. Pulled it off, still talking all the while. “Holy crap, that’s—“ Off again, then on. “—thing I’ve ever seen. What the fuck? How does it work, is it some kind of wild new technology?”
“It needs to stay on,” I said. “For the translation to —“
He took it off again, inspecting it as he kept speaking in his strange language.
I grabbed his hand and forced the ring on. He stared down at my fingers for a long moment and shivered, and I wondered if I’d been too rough.
“It needs to stay on,” I repeated, still holding his hand. “Needs to have enough surface area in contact with your skin for the magic to work.”
He shook himself. “You have really nice hands. And forearms, has anyone mentioned your forearms to you? I mean, you’re probably well aware of them, I suppose, as they are attached to you. Wait, did you say magic?”
My patience frayed. “What is your name?”
He stared up at me. “Pippin Crane. But everyone calls me Pip. Who are you? Where am I? Have I been kidnapped? This doesn’t look like California. The road is so bumpy, and your outfits are insane, and there are HORSES, like real live horses, but…”
“I’m sorry,” I said. The aetherwoven ring translated meaning but not always context, and I was sure I’d miss something. Or many things. “You are shocked by horses?”
“Who wouldn’t be shocked by horses? I mean, it’s not like we’re in the middle ages.” He blinked, then let out a sharp, nervous laugh. “It’s entirely possible this is a really weird dream.” His eyes darted between my legs. “That definitely looks like the stuff of dreams.”
Vaelith’s cough grew more pronounced.
“I am Aeldryc the Ironstorm,” I said. “Leader of the Queen’s Grey Guard. You are on the road to River Bend, in the County of Clovermere.”
“I know Ren Faire types don’t like to break character, but like… None of that made sense.” Pip was still staring at my cock.
“I assure you, I am not a character.”
“Cool. Cool cool cool.” Pip nodded several times. He stood on his tiptoes, grabbed the tip of one of my ears, and pulled. Hard.
“Ouch. What the bloody hell?” I rubbed my ear, frowning down at him.
“Those are attached to your head. Permanently?”
“They’re my ears. What else would they be attached to?”
“They’re so pointy! Did I eat some magic mushrooms?” He held out his hands in front of his face. “The last time I tried those, my hands had seven fingers, but I suppose you never know what the brain will create.” He placed his palm over my face and squished it. “Sky, if we’re in the bathroom at Club Vortex, and you’re fucking with me by pretending to be the sexiest elf since Legolas in Lord of the Rings, I need to know.”
“I am fae, not an elf.” I glanced back at my company. Thyren’s mouth was a tight line, but the corner of it twitched—a seismic event for a man so disciplined. Vaelith, never one for stoicism, had given up all pretense and was openly weeping with laughter. Ilyndra watched, her expression closer to academic curiosity.
“We’ll bring him in,” I said. “To the palace. He seems to be a lost soul from a faraway land.”
Thyren frowned. “If he’s from a faraway land, how did he get to Clovermere? There’s no sea nearby.”
“Someone sent him,” Ilyndra said. “Or something brought him.”
“Not ominous at all!” Vaelith giggled. “Ooh, this is good!”
“Me? I’m definitely not at all ominous, I mean, look at me!” He did a small, deliberate gyration of his hips, which somehow did seem ominous. “I’m a twink!”
“Is that a… magical being?” Thyren asked.
Pip beamed. “Some who’ve had me might say so.”
“I’m going to take you in for a medical assessment and an interview,” I said, pulling a small set of shackles from a loop on Bram’s saddle. “Should you choose to resist, we will have to restrain you.”
“Ooh, kinky.” Pip held out his hands. “Yes, please, Shadow Daddy.”
Vaelith had only just gotten her giggles under control, and now she was back to laughing.
