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“Goose?” The undulating smudge chuffed and chattered its teeth, and I couldn’t help but smile. “Goosey boy. You came back. Good boy.”

A growl and a snap at hollow air came as Goose was shoved out of the way. If that was Goose, then the man at the hole could only be Brittle Spear. “Is that you, tardy Ard Tiarna of Fómhar?”

“A grievous lapse of duty on my part, my lady Pearl. I will endeavor to have my debts cleared, but first, we will need to see about getting you free of your . . . erm . . . accommodations. Are you fit to climb a rope?”

I snorted. “What, you’re not going to come down here and fireman lift me out? Tsk, Brittle Spear, I thought you more chivalrous than that.”

“Would that I could, my lady, but you seemed to have the excellent luck of finding one of the abandoned iron mines my court used to fuel our forges during the war. I can neither call magic to save you nor crawl in there to come after you. I’ve tried. Even through gloves, the raw iron burns and bites too deep.”

“Did you feed my baby?”

“Your what, my lady?”

“My baby. Goosey boy.”

He paused, and I heard him having a side conversation about it being imperative that he get me out immediately. “Focus, Brittle Spear. I swear you give a man a second to focus on anything but your pussy, and he’s distracted in an instant.”

“Forgive me, my lady, your companions are merely advising me that you are a special kind of human with an allergy to iron and you will surely die of poisoning soon if I don’t immediately figure it the fuck out.” I could hear the grin of amusement in his voice.

A small smile crossed my lips as I convinced my exhausted body to strain upwards to a standing position. My head spun as I tipped it back. Should have stayed lying down.

They weren’t wrong; they knew I was a Fae and knew that Fae and iron didn’t mix. What they didn’t know was that, for some reason, I was immune to the bite of iron, even in its rawest form.

“I asked you a question, my Ard Tiarna.” I purred, dusting filth from my dress.

“Ah, yes. Your dog. Yes, he ate well before we set out into the countryside and again when we arrived. It seems the original occupants of your boudoir, as it were, were very put out by your presence. Your pet was more than happy to liberate them of their inconvenience and supped well. Just as your companions have, my lady. They are gone now, all except the dog, to sit around a banquet. The gem is assisting in filling a bath for you, my lady.”

“Well, it seems I’m late to the party then. Toss down a rope, I’ll see if I can climb out.”

“You need but hold onto it, my lady. I will pull you up.”

A length of black rope fell through the hole, and I wrapped it around myself. I didn’t expect Brittle Spear to be able to haul me up. He had been so much smaller than The Raven, and yet there was barely any hesitation, barely any strain, as he pulled me up as easily as if by machine.

The scene I came out into was not what I had expected. I had expected the dark angry scar cutting through the landscape marking out the clear path the storm had chased me but not the rest. I’d thought maybe a small camp and a soldier or two accompanied my friends. And yet the small dell I had run through was filled with canvas-lined tents—a quick count came to twenty—and just as many Fae were milling about.

It didn’t take long for my eyes to settle between the grand tents to find a large central fire that my three friends sat uneasily around, eating from what looked like overflowing plates. Brittle Spear had not lied when he said a banquet had been served for them, and it warmed my heart.

I turned to thank him, the words catching on my tongue as I tipped my head up and up and up to a stranger’s face. I had expected a different face, had expected to see not the man who had feasted between my thighs and proclaimed me the most succulent of meals, but the young guard who had stolen a few moments with me. Neither stood before me; a man of considerable youth with black hair and piercing earth eyes towered above me. His skin was new—unkissed by the sun and creamy with vitality. He looked younger than even I did before coming to Magh Meall, maybe early twenties.

I took a few steps back, uneasiness riding up my spine. Goose came to flank me, easily turning on what had been his traveling companion.

Massive hands rose to the clanking of armor, palms empty and open, as he spread his fingers. “Easy, my Pearl. Easy. It’s me.”

“Prove it,” I hissed, wishing I had the shard of iron I’d entrusted to Goose.

He sighed into a chuckle and knelt, the metal of his plate mail scuffing against rocks. I was not a small woman, and even kneeling, he only had to tip his head slightly to make eye contact. “Days unconscious in a hole, and suddenly she’s picky about who rescues her. Very well, my Pearl. Around your waist, you hold my favor, my lady. Or have you secreted it somewhere else? The last I saw of it, it dangled like a jewel where I might rest my head and drink of your delights.”

Days? I had only just closed my eyes, I didn’t even have a full dream, and yet it had been days? I would need to see to the slight throb in my skull before too long. If I had been out for a few days, I was lucky to be alive. Or was Fae biology different? Could they survive a head wound unattended with such ease? Was that why I had survived Daróg’s vicious attack?

I narrowed my eyes on him, putting aside the thumping. Brittle Spear had given me no such favors. “Lies. Who are you?”

A rumbling chuckle bubbled up in him, and he pulled his hands from the gloves he had used to pull me free. “I assure you, my lady Pearl, when we met in the study, I slid upon you four of my tokens so that should you have need of me, I could come to you.”

“What did it look like?”

He rolled his shoulder, tucking the gloves into his belt. “Like the stars and the fist. I could not be so open as to hide my leaves upon your favor when your paramour might discover them and find me still living despite his best efforts.”

The strange beads that were neither The Raven’s nor the Bandrui’s . . . they had come from Brittle Spear?