Page 32 of Crownless Heirs

He blinked. “That’s why you called me, Cat?”

She gestured vaguely in the air. “I told you from the start I didn’t want you.”

Kyron doubled over with laughter, nearly stumbling as he tried to keep walking.

Maelan, unbothered, smiled as if he’d won something. “And yet, here we are, dear wife.”

Sorcha groaned and dragged a hand down her face, muttering curses into her palm. The hound let out a huff beside her, the sound suspiciously close to a laugh.

Kyron hadn’t stopped laughing, and Maelan was clearly enjoying himself. “I didn’t hear you complaining about me when I slept at your feet.”

Sorcha turned to him with wide eyes, too stunned to speak.

Kyron choked on his own laugh.

The hound looked suspiciously pleased.

And Sorcha, exhausted and surrounded by chaos, muttered under her breath. Maybe she was better off lost, but then Be Chuille's words slithered in, “You’ll suffer, Sorcha”. She placed her hand on the back of her head, rubbing the skin that ached from Be Chuille's torture. She offered a weak smile to them, lost in the darkness of what she’d just endured.

15

River ferry

The woods began to thin; the solid forest floor dissolved into a treacherous expanse of slick, waterlogged muck. Sorcha slowed as the ground beneath her feet softened, her boots sinking into the mud. Beyond this dark stretch of mud, a colossal river lay. Its surface smooth and reflective, like blackened glass. A soft mist curled along the riverbank, dancing around stones and reeds. Shadows moved deep within the blanket of fog from all directions, dissolving the view of the river.

Sorcha, speaking in a hushed tone from the front, asked, “Are you seeing something in the mist?”

Both Kyron and Maelan nodded, their attention drawn by the approaching squelching of footsteps.

Suddenly, a voice called out from behind Maelan, “What are ye doing?”

Maelan and Kyron shrieked, Maelan gasping, “What are you?”

“Do ye hear this?” a creature responded, its voice clearly offended.

Another creature materialized beside Kyron, adding, “I do, brother. It sounds like they mean to offend.”

Sorcha, a few paces ahead, turned to see two fae circling Kyron and Maelan. They had no necks; their heads sat directly on their round, pudgy bodies, like overgrown toads. Pointed ears and gaping mouths filled with needle-like teeth were visible. Their skin the color of chocolate-covered cherries. More appeared from the mud, shooting up like reeds. A creature, taller than the rest, leaped from elsewhere in the bog and landed directly in front of them.

“Where ye headin’?” the creature grunted.

A few more shifted into existence beside Maelan, and to his dismay and annoyance, he spat out, “Where do you all keep coming from? You just keep popping up like daisies!”

Kyron quickly cut in, “What he means to say is, we’re looking for passage across the river.”

The toad-like creature called out, “Ye hear that, lads? They wish to find the ferryman.”

A chorus of laughter erupted from the mist as Sorcha walked forward, her sword of fire and light appearing in her hand. The creature turned around and tilted its head, “Whatcha got there, missy?”

Multiple creatures sprouted from the mud surrounding her, throwing mud, and then, as if a sinkhole had opened beneath them, they disappeared. “It’s time we left, lads. No need to help when we’re not wanted.”

Sorcha’s sword extinguished as she wiped mud from her face and called out, “Wait.”

A short creature popped beside Kyron, who yelled in fright, “Would you stop doing that?”

“I’m Hob, and we are the bog guardians,” he announced, chuckling.

“We can show you the way,” another creature chimed in, introducing himself as Pluk.