Page 14 of Tell Them That I’m Coming

This time, the humor reaches his eyes—or maybe that’s a sense of satisfaction I can’t deny. “You may call me Thane. Thane Aurex.”

Thane. I roll the name around my head. Thane. It suits him.

“You’re lucky you found me, Alana of Sombra. Or that I found you. There isn’t another bandit in the Shadowed Woods who might be willing to help you find your way out of it.”

Is that so? Then why is he offering? Could it be that he does sense the mate bond the same way that I do?

“Why? I don’t have any gold,” I remind him. “Why would you be willing to help me?”

“Because you’ll never be able to do it on your own.”

Huh. Is that so?

Later, I’ll admit that letting the easy way Thane dismissed me upset me was a mistake. He was right. I’m in a world I don’t know, with no leads, and a forest unlike the shadows I grew up around. My powers are failing, Binx is chittering at me to figure out how to return to Sombra so we can get help, and a cocky fae is looking at me as though I’ll swoon and act like I’m a damsel in distress and he’s the hero in one of the romance books in the EL.

So I’m undeniably attracted to him. So my instincts are telling me that he’s supposed to be my mate. If he is my mate, he’ll learn sooner or later that you can’t tell Alana of Sombra what she can and cannot do.

Binx knows. He digs his shadow claws into the fabric of my dress while I grab my skirts, ready to walk away.

And that’s when, over Thane’s shoulders, I see another one of the orange-and-black butterflies. It’s not the same as the one that led me into Noctavara, but that doesn’t matter. If the monarch butterfly helped me arrive in the fae realm, maybe it’s all I need to track down Rafe.

Thane never expected me to run. Maybe fae women don’t, and there are plenty of demonesses in Nuit who might sniff if I did in the village, but as the butterfly continues to flap behind Thane, then beyond him, I don’t hesitate.

His eyes widen, though he must not think I’m any sort of threat because he leaves his sword hanging at his side as Binx and I dash right past him. He realizes too late that I wasn’t moving toward him, reaching out to snag my arm after I’ve already made it by.

His voice chases me, though he doesn’t.

“Where are you going?”

“I’m following the butterfly!”

“What? No! Don’t⁠—”

Too late, Thane. I’m already running after it, and if part of me hopes that the fae male might feel a pull toward me and finally realize that I’m supposed to be his mate, the guilt over abandoning Rafe is stronger than my libido.

Step one: follow the butterfly, find Rafe, and rescue him from Noctavaran soldiers.

Step two: show Thane that I can do anything if I put my mind to it—and maybe see if he knows anything about a mate bond or an essence exchange.

Step three⁠—

Gods damn it, I never even make it to step one. Not yet, at least. Too consumed with following the butterfly while also keeping an ear out, listening for some sign that Thane is following us, I don’t pay attention to my surroundings. I just keep running, one hand on Binx’s rump so that I don’t lose my ungez, until the monarch butterfly suddenly winks out of existence.

I dig my feet into the too-hard ground, spinning around wildly, swallowing some of Mom’s most creative curses as I realize that I’m alone in another clearing that’s surrounded by shadow-dark trees without any clue where to go next.

I walk around, looking up, my head swiveling back and forth, frustrated and alone when something snags around the ankle of my arkodaskin boot. It catches, going tight, and before I can revise how I should approach step one, the world flips upside down.

Or maybe that’s just me.

Very brave or very stupid, huh? Guess which one I am.

So… I’m trapped.

My claws aren’t sharp enough to cut through the twine that’s wrapped around my ankle, keeping me flipped over as I sway about three feet off of the ground. As a halfling, I can’t shift to shadows so that I can escape its hold on me, either.

And that’s not even the worst part.

These days, it’s the fashion in Sombra to wear undercoverings woven from shadows. It’s something our human mothers brought with them, calling them panties, only instead of the panties being made from fabric like my dresses, they’re shadow. If I had any doubt that my magic was somehow being blocked now that I’m in Noctavara, the slight breeze blowing against my lower half makes it clear. My shadow panties are gone.