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Arran’s face clouded. I tried to read the swirl of emotions before he locked them up behind his menacing glare.
Worry, a touch of sadness… and fear.
What was Arran Earthborn, the most powerful fae in millennia and High King of Annwyn, afraid of?
I had a few sinking suspicions in the pit of my stomach. And they all centered on one thing—me.
I shoved down the guilt that rose like bile in my throat and forced one of the wicked smiles he adored so much to my face.
Arran groaned. “Whatever nonsense you are contemplating, I promise I will punish you for it.” He thrust his hips against me. “Thoroughly.”
My smile widened for real. “Promise?”
“There it is!”
Arran snarled again. I hoped the beast inside of him was proud. It was utterly terrifying… and more than a little arousing.
But Maisri wasn’t afraid. She’d escaped Osheen’s clutches and was barreling straight for us. I nudged Arran aside just in time to stop the collision.
“There iswhat?” I asked, brushing the dirt—courtesy of my beastly mate—from my clothing.
“The Crossing.”
Ancestors above, Percival couldn’t keep his mouth shut for five minutes.
I grabbed Arran’s hand, ignoring his glare, and held him firmly in place at my side.
Heel, beast.
A low growl caressed my consciousness as we joined the others—through the trees, onto a craggy drop off.
We all sucked in a collective breath at what lay below.
“We call it the Spit,” I said, though I’d never seen it myself.
“Why? Do fae stand in the middle and see who can spit the farthest?” Percival laughed at his own joke.
Luckily for him, he was so amused by himself that he didn’t bother checking for anyone else’s mirth.
There was none.
Not even Lyrena laughed.
What waited for us wasn’t humorous at all.
The entire strip of land, a few miles long, stretching across a rippling blue sea, was moving.
Humans.
49
ARRAN
“You are going to scare everyone off. We are supposed to be blending in with the humans,” Veyka hissed as we waited in line.
We’d split into pairs to make ourselves less conspicuous. Cyara and Osheen linked their arms and let Maisri skip in front of them. With Osheen’s dark hair and Cyara’s carefully practiced elemental smile, they passed for a happy little family. There was nothing that could be done to disguise Cyara’s wings—rare even among the fae. But hopefully the veneer of a sweet little family would diffuse any overt attention.
Lyrena looked strange, with all the markings of her Goldstone rank tucked away in her knapsack. No less lovely or golden, but less threatening. Until I saw the look she leveled at Percival—her companion for the night.
