Page 36 of My Fae Lady

My lips twitched. “I strongly recommend that you apologize to my wife immediately, or my choices may soon be taken from me.”

“Sorry lady,” he barked over my shoulder before his attention bounced back to me. “Got any pies? I’ll do it for a whole meat pie.”

“We have pies,” Giselle called back, “but you’re not forgiven! I worked very hard on this carriage, and my ankle is now thrice the size it should be!”

“Want me to kiss it and make it all better?” he jeered.

I shoved him back against the oak so hard loose leaves rained down around him.

“Just being friendly,” he coughed out. The youth grinned at me, revealing fine sharp teeth. “Sounds like we have a deal now. See you soon, then, old man.”

He bounded off in between the trees, bending to pick up pieces of clothing scattered about the forest floor and returning them to my overturned trunk. My top hat was freed from a bramble. He dusted it down and set it crookedly on his head.

“Every single piece makes it back unscathed!” I ordered. “No tricks!”

“By the night’s knickers,” he cursed, “I told you I’d do it, gaffer. I’ll do it. All right?”

I meant to return to the carriage to dig Giselle out of it, but I stood there staring off into the deep woods instead, studying the darker places between the trees. I was just over two miles away from Rook Manor if I cut through the forest and ignored the path.

Now was my chance.

The moment had arrived. The inevitable future was now my present, and my stomach felt full of iron.

Rook Manor was my home. I’d fashioned it from an enriched stream of wild magic, developing it from a trickle to a forceful flow not to be reckoned with. I’d grown it by hand into what it was, and it had been taken from me by Barton trespassers.

I missed it! Its walls and its depths were full of pieces of me, and I craved to be one with it again.

The same trespassers who tore my wings from me and shoved me into a tree, cursed my wounds to never heal, had come back to haunt me again in the form of this wicked woman who was frustratingly not very wicked at all. I could leave her behind to her fate and claim what was now mine by every law the house served. In fact, it would be much easier to do so without her present, given the tales she told me about her bonding with the magic there.

“It’s all right,” Giselle said, her voice soft. I turned to find her perched on the edge of the carriage, nursing her ankle. “You’ve done more than what was required of you already. If you’d like to get back to your tree now, I understand. That was the deal. You can return to your home and leave me to my peace.”

“You’re hurt,” I grunted.

“It’s only a sprain. I heal quickly, and we’re not far from the manor.” Mahogany hair spilled around her shoulders. She’d removed the last of the pins and her shoes. Her hair framed her golden skin and accentuated the soft blue her eyes had become.

She was being kind again. Damn it all.

I marched toward her before I could change my mind.

She flinched away from me. “What are you doing?”

I couldn’t see my own expression, but it felt fierce. “Put your arms around my neck,” I barked.

Reluctantly, she tucked her arms around my shoulders. She seemed to think better of being meek and gripped me tight. As I lifted her, her eyes settled into a soft lavender shade.

“We’ll get you something to eat and drink when we’re at Rook Manor.” I held her legs at the bend in her knees with one arm, and I grabbed her shoes up with the other.

“Don’t forget my pies!” the boy shouted at us.

I waved his words away with the hand gripping my wife’s shoes, and I stormed off into deeper, darker woods.

⊱❀⊰

Our pace was a slow stroll. Together we didn’t fit in the tighter places between the grasping branches and thick webs. The spiders here were not what they were in the human realm. Their webs could hold us so that the kobolds that enchanted them could come and pick our pockets and eat our fingers. Our fingers would grow back, but the prospect was still an unpleasant one.

The light of the moon peeked through the trees and illuminated Giselle’s face.

“What’s this?” I rumbled. “You’ve got a mark on you. That little weasel bruised you.”