Page 5 of Why Broken Wings Fray

“Pixies can stay in this form for as long as we want,” he mumbled as he reached up and adjusted the tie around his ponytail. “And it’s a good thing, too. Raegan would have slaughtered us. There wouldn’t be anyone left.”

Crossing my arms over my chest, I rolled my eyes. “Am I supposed to feel pity for you, Rory? For the Rachainn? Because I don’t. You all brought this upon yourselves. And the last I heard, Raegan didn’t kill those that he gathered.”

Rory had an apology between his brows as he finally looked up. “For a while, yes. He exiled some, kept some as prisoners. He freed a few, too. Ones that took oaths and bound themselves by the word of the gods. But then… Like I said, Olivia… A lot has changed.”

My heart skipped a beat as I fought the desire to gasp. “He… He killed them?”

Rory didn’t need to respond. It was written all over his face.

I shook my head several times. “Regardless, Rory—why are you telling me this? You and your… group… you wreaked havoc on Saoghal and now you wish for me to feel, what? Pity for you? Sorrow for the world you are destroying? You cannot dig a grave and ask another to lie in it.”

I wished I hadn’t dropped that scalpel.

“I need to speak with you. I need to speak with you freely, without concern of hidden ears and manipulated winds.” As he talked, his eyes scanned the room for those very things.

Another scoff fell from my mouth as I folded my arms over my chest. “You are surely dreaming if you believe I would, for a minute, entertain–”

“For Raegan, you would.”

I swallowed my words as I pulled my ears back, because Rory was right.

For Raegan, I would.

~

After assuring Rory for the tenth time that Urram would not notice my absence for at least a few more hours, we slipped our way out of the vet clinic and hustled down the cold, frigid streets of Penzance.

Very little light illuminated our path, the clouds so stark and grey above that they blocked any potential for sunlight. Instead, I relied on the back of Rory’s head and the hope that he knew where he was leading me. We jogged down walkways, tucked ourselves between buildings, and ducked and dove from alley to alley. All the while, the weather couldn’t quite decide if it wanted to rain or snow, so it settled on a heavy sleet that made me regret not grabbing my coat before we left.

Thoroughly drenched and shaking like it was my first time standing upright, Rory finally let me stop moving as he came to a stop outside a run-down pub. It looked like the type of place where one had to cover their head and face with a cloak in order to enter – ominous, musky lighting, low ceilings that flared up a part of me that might have had claustrophobia, and the people… I refused to lift my eyes to a single one of them as we stepped into that space.

After a man in the back of the room, concealed by shadows, let out a high whistle and some derogatory slur in my direction, Rory let loose a low growl and grabbed my hand in his. Yanking me along, I ducked my head and allowed myself the brief security of Rory, my pixie-friend who was sized to a human for the time being.

In the back of the pub, far enough in that I already reeked of ale, Rory pushed open a door that led down into a cellar.

I finally screeched to a stop. “I’m not going down there.”

Rory rocked his weight onto one hip and flicked a brow up at me. “You really think I would bring you all this way just to kill you?” He chuckled, as if the next sentence was a joke and not a threat. “I would have been more than capable of killing you in that clinic if I wished.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

He let one of his loose grins spread over his face. “That’s up to you.”

Narrowing my eyes at him, I was content to hold fast and refuse to descend those stairs. That was until I heard a familiar jig – a melodic rhythm that I had only ever heard in one place. Choilltean.

There were pixies in that cellar.

Either Rory was going to kill me in front of an audience, or the likeness of me being slaughtered were diminishing by the second. I chose to believe it was the latter.

I started to descend the stairs, until I paused and flipped my hair over my shoulder to glare back at Rory, who was stepping behind me.

“Kill me, and I can guarantee you that Urram will make your death agonizing.”

Rory released another joyful laugh. “I don’t doubt it.”

By the time I reached the bottom of the stairs, ignoring the fact that I could see another hallucination of Raegan a few feet in front of me, I waited for Rory to push the next wooden door open.

When he did, I was both surprised and unsurprised to still hear a tremendous amount of music, laughter, and overall cheer – yet I couldn’t see a single person. Which made me step carefully, because I soon realized there were pixies in this room, but they had taken to their small sizes.