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When I looked up, Sylva was watching us closely.
“Not all of you, at least,” she amended.
She shifted again, taking a sip of her tea before addressing her answer to Cyara. “Their eyes become nothing but empty holes, their mouths no more than a gaping maw for tearing and ripping flesh. They will kill anyone they encounter—enemy, friend, wife… child. They cannot be felled by our blades. Even fire is often not enough. The only true way is to behead them, like—”
“Like a fae,” Cyara finished for her.
The darkness that had taken the human messenger, the monster in the ravine… they may be mad and difficult to kill, but they were not fae. They were human.
And beheading was not the only way to kill them.
But I had no reason for why my blades worked on the deranged man-monsters, and why Arran’s did not. For all either of us knew, it was a fluke of luck.
I did know one thing for certain.
“This curse is not coming from Annwyn. That is what your messenger thought—he came to beg for us to stop the darkness, to pull it back. To stop punishing you all. But this did not come from us, and it is not why we are here.”
The elder didn’t flinch. “Then why are you here?”
“We seek a priestess,” Arran cut in. An obvious attempt to diffuse the brewing argument.
Sylva laughed harshly. “The priestesses have long deserted Eldermist.”
Arran squeezed my shoulder. Parys had told us as much, from the little he was able to find about Avalon and its disciples. “The priestess we seek dwells in Avalon.”
If the name meant anything to her, the old woman didn’t show it. She merely sighed. “So, our town is but a stop upon your journey.”
“As I said, we are not staying.” I stood up, unable to bear the sitting and waiting anymore. There was nothing for us in Eldermist.
Sylva waited until I was at the door. “Let us help you.”
I paused. Mostly out of curiosity.
“Before you ask what help a lowly human could offer, listen, Majesty. You will find the human lands do not have great cities like Baylaur. Our communities are small, self-governed by necessity. But Eldermist is one of the oldest, our archives ancient. You may find information to help you on your journey.”
I weighed her words, knowing they came at a price. One I likely wouldn’t want to pay. “What do you ask in return?”
She set aside the teacup, drawing herself up to her full height—truly nothing more than an ant among the giant fae warriors in the room. Yet she still held her share of the air. “The Council of Elders meets in an hour. Come. Listen. That is all I ask.”
* * *
“She thinks we will bend. That if we hear their plight, we will feel compelled to offer help,” Arran said, arms crossed as he surveyed what we could see of the town.
We’d remained on the edges, while Osheen and Cyara went in to buy fresh provisions. The gold and gemstones we had brought from Annwyn were distributed amongst all the members of our traveling party, so no matter where we went or what currency we used, we’d have something to use as payment. We had more than enough traveling rations packed, but we might as well use fresh while they were available.
I let myself lean into Arran’s warmth, already disliking the cold of the human world. “She’s a clever old thing.”
Arran didn’t react. But I heard the grumble of approval from his beast as I nestled into his side. “The meeting is in an hour. In two, we’ll be in the archives. By this evening, I want us far from here.”
“Why?” I had my own reasons; I wanted to know his.
“We are being watched.”
31
ARRAN
My beast knew.
