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The drya gave her a curious look. “What is that, little moth?”
MaryAnne tried not to grimace at the new pet name, uncertain of how much she should read into it. “The fae who come here… are they not naturally protected from the carnival?”
A look of surprise crossed Ayla’s face. “They are not? Are you certain?”
MaryAnne bit her lip. “I think so. They don’t look good. Like something’s wrong with them, just like the humans. The difference is that the humans look like they’re practically dead whereas the fae seem drained of color and vitality.”
“Thatisstrange,” Nivira interrupted as she emerged suddenly from amid the cluster of blood vines that curtained off much of the farther portion of the tent’s interior.
MaryAnne relaxed at the sight of her friend. Whereas Ayla seemed to be a walking contradiction, aggressive one minute and helpful the next, Nivira was steady.
The drya pursed her lips. “I will see what I can find out.” Her lips suddenly tipped. “And what of your ghost children? Did you catch any more glimpses of them?”
“Still on that, are we?” Ayla snorted in disbelief.
Nivira shushed her sister as she patted the air with one hand. “Our MaryAnne is a little stubborn, and her interest in them in spite of everything is a little odd as well, but I think it’s still sweet regardless of how pointless it is.”
MaryAnne gave her a hopeful look. “Does that mean you will continue to cover me so I can take a peek around?”
She had to slip out nightly if possible. Although the night hadn’t been exactly productive, it had revealed how much easier she could skulk around in the crowd when she didn’t have her huge mate with her. He would just have to understand. They both needed to do their parts. He knew that.
Ayla’s lip curled. “Why wouldn’t she? It would give her all the opportunity to carry on with her secret tryst. Wouldn’t it, sister?” she demanded hotly, shooting the other drya a hard look.
Nivira sighed patiently. “I keep telling you that you are imagining things, sister. Once again your season is getting to you. Drink some of the calming mint tea blend I have made for you. It will cool you and do you a world of good. As for your request, MaryAnne, I don’t see why not,” she replied, an amused look crossing her face as Ayla muttered under her breath and bustled off. “I don’t see why not if you find some comfort in it—even if I personally find it to be a waste of time and energy. Just don’t expect much, my dear,” Nivira cautioned gently as she gave MaryAnne’s arm a gentle pat. “Now come, let’s prepare.”
MaryAnne glanced over toward the curtained section. “Shouldn’t we see if Ayla is okay? She seemed upset.”
Nivira shook her head with a sad smile. “Do not worry yourself over my sister. She gets a little strange when she’s in season, especially this season since Raskyuil rightly interfered with her attempt to secure a mate. She will be well enough. The tea will help and in another couple of weeks she will be right as rain. But for now, I need your help. I’m afraid I’m nearly out of those packets you made. Your return was quite timely.”
MaryAnne followed the drya, a smile playing on her lips. Being placed to help the Nivira and being babysat to boot looked like it was going to work out after all. If only things would become clearer sooner. The Hallow Night was looming ever nearer—she couldn’t forget that.
ChapterForty-Two
Raskyuil’s hand twitched as he trailed after the last of the guests streaming from the heart of the carnival. The last notes of the carnival’s song were fading and all the joy and activity among the townspeople had faded just as fast until they were shuffling out in a daze. The small group of wood aelves in front of him murmured warily to each other, but even their pace was slow and their steps unnaturally awkward for their race. An ogre came out on the left and nearly collided with them, making them scatter as they stumbled out of the large male’s way as he stomped forward with a peculiar glaze to his eyes. Raskyuil frowned. One of the ogre’s eyes appeared almost milky, as if the male were going blind.
The turnout had been large—far more than Raskyuil had privately expected. But it was the condition of the people giving him cause for concern. This wasn’t a case of there being an untouched population. They were all ravaged, and more than once among the crowd, he heard the whispers about something calling to them. It was unnatural and made him miss the disembodied whisper and laughter of the children. It was far preferable to the chilling words repeated over and over again in stilted, barely present conversation.
It was the third night since the carnival re-opened and he was glad it was over. Especially since his mate had made him aware of what she was doing. He didn’t like it, but he understood the necessity. It was hard for anyone not to be aware of his movements. He was hired for the exact reason that he couldn’t slip among the crowd and easily hide. Having a very visible and very intimidating security team reminded both visitors and performers alike to behave.
She was able to sneak around the carnival grounds a lot easier without him, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t anxious for his mate the entire time he was separated from her. They couldn’t even coordinate when she would go out, so he could try to keep watch for her, because it depended on what the crowds were doing and when she could get free. He’d spent the last couple of days in a constant state of agitation because of that.
He grunted as he steered the last of the straggling crowd out of the carnival and watched them depart down the road and into the fog with narrowed eyes. He would be glad when this was all over. For better or worse, it would not be much longer now.
His for the better was rapidly dwindling, however. Not when Elwyn’s erratic behavior that seemed to take him out into the carnival at all hours had delayed meeting Zagrol more than once. And now, tomorrow was the eve before the Hallow Night, and they were still no closer to locating his mate’s younglings. Even those they glimpsed, none of them looked like the offspring who accompanied her to the carnival. He had tried everything to find them, offering excuses to go into various storage tents but now he had to face the fact that he was relying on Zagrol to help them find them. He just wished it could have been sooner.
He hoped that the success of the carnival of the last few days would please Elwyn enough that the male would revert to his normal pattern of activity.
Nodding to Barok as the male reset the ward at the entrance, Raskyuil headed back through the carnival. The paths among the tents were muscle memory now, and he could keep his senses open and engaged with what was going on around him rather than the placement of his feet. There was a whisper of shadow in the fog, and he followed it with his eyes, disappointment filling him when it faded out and disappeared completely.
He shook his head in frustration but kept moving at the same brisk pace. He continued to watch for any other signs, but no others ventured near him. From what Zagrol said, the carnival rides attracted them and provided merriment for them, but he hadn’t seen a hint of them when he patrolled past the rides, regardless of how high or low the fog rode. And yet, now the shadows he saw seemed pale and sedate as if exhausted. Sometimes he caught a hint of movement or heard the laughter of a youngling, but he no longer saw them as clearly.
It had been that way since the carnival reopened. It was as if they were all hiding. From what he had no idea, but it made him think. How many little ones were hiding in the fog that they didn’t know about because they hadn’t seen them? Perhaps MaryAnne’s younglings were keeping themselves concealed as well.
That thought made him uneasy—that there was something within the carnival itself that made them hide themselves in fear.
Or perhaps it was someone who they didn’t want to see them. Elwyn? He didn’t want to suspect the aelf. It was too obvious and seemed to contradict everything he knew of the stuffy male. But he was behaving erratically, and the longer this went on the more suspicious the male seemed. He just needed proof before he could make any accusations outright. He was afraid he had nothing. Everything was riding on Zagrol.
Turning along the path that led directly to the drya tent, Raskyuil stumbled back a step to avoid running into Ayla as the female stormed out of the tent with a snarl on her face. He watched her in surprise as she stormed from the tent, shooting a venomous look in his direction before hastily making her way down the path in the direction from which he had come.
