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I can’t help but wonder if he planned this all along or if it was a spur-of-the-moment thing. Was it all a lie? Everything? I can’t make the questions take shape on my tongue.
Galen grits his teeth as he steps forward, almost like he’s pushing against some invisible barrier. It’s a slow tread with me tugged behind him like a dead weight. A quick glance at the ground shows a literal line of sorts between the sparse, rocky ground we stand on and the verdant grasses beyond looming at the edge of a thick forest. He gives a groan, and whatever was holding him back releases. He stumbles forward. I’m pulled after him into the thick grass.
All at once, the air is different. What was almost devoid of scent now is full of life, of leaves and loam and floral notes. Without being told, I know we’ve passed into the Court of the Forest. It’s the only thing that makes sense.
He's quiet for a minute, almost like he’s waiting for something. In my anger, I have no words for him. All efforts to free myself from his grip are unsuccessful.
“Be still, Wren,” Galen says. “I won’t hurt you.”
I snort and jerk against his hold even harder. As if he hasn’t already caused me a different sort of pain.
“You,” the female voice cuts through night.
“Sylvie.” Galen turns us, finding her unerringly in the night, where she looms at the edge of the tree line.
I gasp, catching sight of the long sword held at the ready and the hard look on her face, barely visible in the moonlight. This woman, the woman he loves, is the spitting image of a fierce warrior. Though short by fae standards, she holds herself tall, her chin raised and proud, her blond hair pulled back behind her head, displaying her pointed ears as she stalks toward us.
Galen releases my hand and takes a half step in front of me as if to shield me from Sylvie. Suddenly, I’m far less certain about his promise of hospitality from this court.
“What are you doing here?” she demands.
“I’m free of my oaths to Air. I come to pledge myself to the Forest—to you.”
That draws Sylvie to a sudden halt a dozen or so feet away from us. Meanwhile, I can’t help but glance this way and that, trying to gain my bearings. We’re at the edge of the Court of the Forest for sure, but the land we entered from is something else—not Air, I don’t think. It looks sick, almost dead, with barren stretches of nothingness pocked with the twisted and gnarled remains of old trees. Everything in me says to run, but to where? To say nothing of the fact that they’d catch me in a heartbeat.
“Who is she?” Sylvie looks past Galen, straight at me, all but pinning me in place with her sharp gaze. “I feel…” Her gaze dips to my hip, to Sigurd’s mark, though my clothing hides it.
“She bears Sigurd’s mark,” Galen replies.
I can’t help but shift on my feet, my cheeks heating.Thanks for talking about me like I’m not even here.
Sylvie swears. “One consort to repent for the other?”
Galen merely nods. “She wishes to return to the human realm.”
Her expression sours. “Provoking Sigurd will not help the Forest.”
No kidding.
“You bring war to us. You—” Her mouth gapes open, whatever she planned to say lost in that void.
There’s no time to wonder why before a hand clamps over my mouth, and I’m jerked back against a solid form. It’s not Sigurd. I know that instantly. He’d never be so rough with me—not after what we’ve shared. The smell is wrong. The feel is wrong, as are the claws that prick against my skin.
“Fools.”
The instant she speaks, I recognize the voice—the Unseelie woman.
Galen whirls, wide eyed. “Katiya.”
“How?” Sylvie raises her sword like she may charge, but a cluck of the woman’s tongue stills her movements.
Katiya’s clawed fingers drum on my cheek in warning. “Thank you for the Air king’s mate.”
My stomach drops just before I register the warping of the air around us. Galen lunges forward, but it’s too late. We’re gone, traveling somewhere else. The shift is short. Suddenly, we’re in what looks to be the same forest but a different spot—it’s hard to tell, though, with the world spinning around me. Katiya releases me, and I stumble forward.
“Why?” I cry. It’s all I can think to ask.
She shrugs one lithe shoulder, her pink hair swaying. “We need you.”
