Page 34 of Tell Them That I’m Coming

“Good.”

Thane backs away, looking at the gold blood shimmering on the length of his blade. Reaching beneath his cloak, he pulls some sort of rag out of somewhere, wiping away the blood before returning the sword to its sheathe.

Only then do I find the words to ask one question: “Why would he challenge you? If he knows you, he’d have to know you’d win.”

Thane’s eyes darken as they meet mine.

“Because you don’t have any idea how much you’re worth in a realm like this,” he says darkly as my breath stutters. “And because,” he adds softly, “I won’t let anyone take what’s mine.”

Mine? I’m his?

“Thane—”

“Good work,” he says, turning away from me. “Now if only I can take the gold of everyone who comes after us, I can finally retire from being a bandit.”

Oh.

Oh.

Godsdamn it.

He might not mind, but we don’t get far before we run into trouble again.

This time, I’m ready for it. I refuse to let Thane distract me, especially now that I understand just how dangerous this fae world is. I’m listening closely, and even if I’m not, my soul-pet is up for the duty.

Binx had gone still when the goldcaps first attacked, and he jumped down, darting forward when the fae bandit appeared to challenge Thane. Sure, Thane handed him back to me to keep him safe, but Binx is still determined to protect me. That’s why, when he hisses, then leaps again, landing right in front of me, I instantly pause, searching for the latest threat.

It’s another bandit. Like Morgane, he doesn’t last long; like Morgane, Thane expects his gold if he proves to be the better swordsman. Thane sizes him up once Yarrow agrees, then stalks toward him. I’m not sure about the hierarchy among these marauders, but Thane doesn’t even draw his sword this time. He lunges for the other bandit, disarming him with a quick twist of his wrist and a look sharp enough to make the fae reconsider all of his life choices.

The marauder retreats after passing over his pouch of gold, muttering curses in a language that I don’t understand, but I didn’t need to. It was pretty obvious what he was saying.

I finally asked how we can communicate; since it’s not courtesy of the essence that I’m struggling to hold onto, it has to be something else. It is. As it turns out, Noctavara—being a fae realm branched off from Faerie—once has rifts leading to countless worlds. An early settler casted a spell that created a universal tongue. Once you step into this world, the magic takes hold, and even though it’s only the slavers that come and go from Noctavara these days, the spell still works, but the fae have their own dialects they can slip into if they choose to.

Since Thane preferred to tease me in the common tongue, I didn’t worry about it. Besides, I had to wonder what other magic did. Though we’ve barely met, Thane looked right through my curiosity. No, he said, the realm itself wasn’t dampening my shadow powers.

So who was? In answer to that, I got another one of those twisted responses that left me more confused, but distracted enough that Thane can move ahead, escaping my constant questions.

It lasted until he had to dispatch another fae monster—a troll, he explained, after he lopped off its head and the creature turned to stone—that he finally thins his lips while looking at me.

At my horns.

“Right,” he says. “I was hoping it wouldn’t come to this, but they’re going to be a problem.”

I arch a brow. “That’s nice, but they’re attached.”

“I noticed.”

“I’d like them to stay attached.”

Hint, hint. If he thinks that he’s going to use his sword to remove my horns so that I pass more easily for a fae female and they finally stop treating me like an outsider, that’s not going to happen. They may be tiny nubs, but they’re mine, and I’m not getting rid of them when he swears we should be out of the Shadowed Woods in the next day or two.

At my feet, Binx bounds over to Thane, batting at the hem of his cloak.

Ignoring the ungez, he steps closer to me, fingers already lifting. Since he doesn’t have his sword, I don’t knee him in the cock. “This won’t hurt.”

It better not.

Magic brushes my skin. It’s cool, light, precise. The air shimmers with gold, and as it fades, suddenly the familiar weight at my temples is gone.