Wilding Heart (chapter 5)

Melody followed Carradoc’s tall frame through the burgeoning dawn, trying not to think. About anything. Give her brain an inch and it would run full circle back to all the things she didn’t care to ponder right now. Around her, stunted trees twisted up from the sharp, dark stone like gnarled fingers. Underfoot, loose stone slid, twisting to trip her. And still Carradoc moved, a sleek and graceful predator through the dawn light. The sight made her wish she felt in any kind of condition to truly appreciate the view.

Her head ached from being conked, her muscles ached from walking and now her chest ached from lack of air. She really should have gotten that gym membership. Good grief, if she’d known she was going to take up hiking, she would have worn better shoes for the occasion at least. Her soft soled shoes were great for walking on tile but didn’t offer much in the way of traction on moss covered stone. And wet socks chafed. At least her shirt was drying and she no longer felt like she was giving the world at large a free peep show. Carradoc had been a gentleman and hadn’t stared. She still wasn’t sure if she should be grateful or insulted by that.

The hill they were climbing peaked and descended in unapologetic slices. As she crested the rise, Melody looked back. In the distance, she could make out the glimmer of the lake and the white veil of the waterfall that cascaded out of the bank of silver clouds above. She couldn’t see the castle from this angle, but she knew it was there. Lough Lean, the home of the Sidhe. Impossible.

Oops, there went her brain again.

The hill hit bottom and Carradoc turned left, keeping to the sandy bottom of the narrow space between rocks. He glanced back. As she was clutching the stitch in her side and blowing like a Derby winner, she doubted he believed her forced smile and wave. His stride slowed and she caught up to him finally.

“If this isn’t Ireland, where are we?”

He didn’t answer. Not that she’d really expected him to.  He had a bad habit of ignoring questions. Still, he wasn’t lying to her so she had to give him points for that much at least. And he’d gotten her out of that place, wherever it was.

“How much do you know of the Fae?”

The abruptness of the question startled her and she stumbled, grabbing a rock for support. Carradoc stopped completely, turning to face her, his expression impassive. Melody took the opportunity to ease a hip onto the boulder she was clinging to and sit for a moment. Catch her breath and look nonchalant about it. Yeah, that would work.

“Every culture in the world has some kind of fairy folk,” she shrugged, still panting as gracefully as she could manage. “Depends on what you’re asking exactly. I’ve always been drawn to the Welsh and Irish mythology, though. Why?”

He shook his head. “We need to keep moving. The Sidhe are creatures of the night sky and we need to put as much distance between them and us as is possible while the sun is up. They aren’t powerless during the day, but they prefer the night to hunt.”

“You didn’t answer my question,” she noted. “Why?”

His gaze turned bleak. “Because logic can anchor a troubled mind,” he murmured. “Fact can make sanity of an insane situation. You will need every shield you possess to survive this.”

“And what is this exactly?”

“Walk and I will talk as we go.” He studied her, his eyes indigo in the pale light. “You couldn’t breathe, could you? Back there on the stairs?”

She shook her head, forcing her protesting body back upright. “It was like I couldn’t catch my breath, like there wasn’t any air.”

He waited until she made it to his side before he began to move again. This time, his strides were shorter, keeping pace with her much slower gait. She appreciated the thought even as heat burned up her neck. God, she hated being the slow one, the one everyone else made allowances for.

“Most of what you know is likely wrong,” he began. Weathering her glare, he shrugged. “Tales of the Fae or Fair Folk as you know them are often skewed or misinterpreted. Time and human perception make a mess of a tangled web and the Fae have never been easy to understand.”

“Ok.” She nodded, avoiding an outcropping of stone that would have cracked her ankles. “Let’s say for argument’s sake that I know nothing. What do you think I should know?”

He slid an arm around her waist, guiding her ahead of him over a loose slide of stone. The courtesy was given with careful strength, as if he were afraid of hurting her. Maybe it was just his male instincts leaping to the fore, but she appreciated the concern. It was nice to be treated like a woman instead just a friend for once.

“Humans have always seen the Fae as light or dark, earth or air.”

“Seelie and Unseelie.”

“Hush and let me tell this,” he admonished. “In fact, there are four courts not two. The Sidhe rule the night air as I have said and the Tuatha de’ Danaan rule the sunlit earth.”

“Wait a minute. I thought they were one and the same.” She frowned, puzzling through that. “It just depends on who did the translating and what time period we’re talking about.”

“No. No more than the Seelie who rule the sunlit sky or the Unseelie who rule the moonlit earth are the same. Those are the High and Low Courts, though, and don’t nearly begin to account for the solitary species.”

“Trooping fairies or solitaries,” she murmured. It was like every fairy tale she’d ever read or heard had gotten tangled up and then sent through a blender.

“There is always a balance to be maintained, a line that cannot be crossed. The Tuatha de’ balance the Sidhe in the High Courts as the Seelie balance the Unseelie in the Low. In spite of human tales, no court is more powerful than another, only different. They each have their weakness.”

She looked back over her shoulder where the castle and lake were now hidden by black rock. Lough Lean, the home of the Sidhe. Turning back, she walked in silence for long minutes while her brain screamed foul things at her for even entertaining such a possibility. It was one thing to love fairy tales and to indulge in the occasional whimsy about a few friends, but what he was suggesting went far beyond that.

“We’re not in Ireland,” she said finally, just to be sure.

“No.”

“This sure isn’t New York.”

“No.”

“I’m not dreaming?”

A smile tugged at his mouth. “You would dream of me?”

Heat ran under her skin and she looked steadfastly forward. She’d already dreamed about him but she wasn’t about to admit it.

She plodded along while her brain alternated between gibbering and screaming. In a secret corner of her heart, a small, faint hope began to burn. Fairies. Could it really be true? Darker thoughts intruded and she slowed.

“Carradoc?”

“Yes?”

“She called you the son of Arawn, too.”

He stopped, not looking at her. “As there is a balance between light and dark, earth and air,” he said finally, “there is a balance between life and death.”

She accepted that, opened her mouth to press the issue and closed it, swallowing hard. Could she take it if he answered? Maybe. Was it really important? Not so much.

“Are you dangerous?”

“Yes.” He looked down at her finally, aloof and untouchable in the pale dawn. “But never to you.”

“Then that’s all I need to know, isn’t it?” She tried to smile, but it wobbled. “If I’m not in Kansas anymore, Toto, then where am I?”

A blank look of confusion slid across his face. “Toto?”

The poor man didn’t understand a reference to the Wizard of Oz? Wow. Catching his hand, she tugged him into motion. It was either that or laugh and she didn’t think he’d get the joke.

“Location,” she nudged. “GPS coordinates would be okay, too.”

“GPS?”

“Global Positioning System,” she clarified. “As in, where in the world am I?”

His fingers tightened on hers. “You aren’t. In your world, I mean. You’ve been brought to the Faery Realms.”

She found she needed a steadying breath after all. “Yeah. Somehow, that’s what I thought you’d say.”

*****

The topography of the Faery Realms wasn’t all that different from Earth, she decided after hours of slogging through it. Trees and ferny plants grew in abundance in the spaces between trees, and small animals scurried away just before she caught sight of them. The sky overhead arched blue with the occasional puff of cloud. The air was clean and pure. She’d have appreciated the beauty around her more if she hurt less, though.

Actually, she’d passed hurting about an hour ago and was now into the whimpering-soundlessly-in-stubborn-pride stage. Wet socks did more damage than she’d ever imagined. Blisters the size of small cats had attached themselves to her heels somewhere along the way and were using her for a scratching post.

Ahead of her, Carradoc led the way without any sign of fatigue. Just her luck. She had to fall down a rabbit hole with someone who could walk all day and never notice. Why was she always attracted to the ones who had no reason to look twice at her? She eyed the tall figure ahead of her and sighed softly. Yeah, he was dangerous and athletic and gorgeous, all the things that made the bad boy persona so attractive. And she was definitely attracted. A case of wanting what she couldn’t have, she supposed. The story of her life.

“How are you doing?”

She endured a few more steps before giving an airy wave. If she tried to speak right now, she would likely just scream and then he’d know what a wimp she was. Her shoes caught on a rough edged stone and she stumbled with a grunt, falling to her knees. She breathed slowly and felt tears gathering at the back of her eyes. Pride be damned. She couldn’t do this anymore.

“I need a break.”

He was at her side before she could blink, lifting her gently to sit on a jagged outcropping that bit at the backs of her legs. A minor discomfort. She was sitting. Her feet throbbed in gratitude.

“You’re hurting.” He fixed a glare on her and she had the impression he was trying for a stern expression. Too bad for him the worry in his beautiful eyes kept the expression from being intimidating. “You should have told me.”

“I just did.” She closed her eyes, dragging another breath and she could feel him moving, hear the rustle of his coat as he knelt at her feet. “I’m sorry I’m such a weakling. I’m just not used to this kind of exercise.”

“We cannot stop.”

Her eyes flew open and her heart sank at the thought. “I can’t keep going. I’m sorry.”

“Then I will carry you.”

She snorted. “Yeah, right. You’ll throw your back out if you try.”

“Melody.” A note of steel threaded his tone and her heart sank lower. “We must put as much distance between us and the Sidhe as possible before nightfall.”

Tears burned her eyes. “I’m sorry. I can’t. I just can’t.”

He untied the laces of her shoe and tugged it off. The thin sock went next and she stared determinedly over his head, not wanting to see the disgust on his face. The other shoe vanished, too. Her nose chose that moment to start leaking and she waited, trying to sniffle in silence.

“I wish, if you had to be taken, you were taken with someone else,” he muttered.

Tears spilled over at the rejection. She was weak. She knew it. It still hurt to hear him say it. The bad boy never went for the overweight, lonely girl. It was always the gorgeous, skinny girl who got the guy.

“If Eithné were here, she could find a plant or herb to soothe your feet and give you strength. Damien could simply take you home. I can do nothing for you.”

The frustration in his voice penetrated the hurt and she sniffled, no longer caring about pride. Swiping at the tears, she tried to breathe past the tightness in her throat. “What are you talking about?”

He didn’t look at her as he stuffed her socks into her shoes before tying the laces together. “I’m sorry, Melody. My cousin and his woman have skills to heal, to ease your pain. I can do nothing for you and for that I am sorry. My only gift is death. All I can do is keep you alive until I find a way to send you home again. I am a poor companion for one such as you.”

“Alive is good.” She sniffled again. Way to look good for the hot guy, with puffy eyes and a red nose.

Standing, he dropped her shoes in her lap and scooped her up as if she weighed nothing. Melody clutched at his shoulders, waiting for him to stagger. She was going to die of mortification.

“Carradoc?” she said carefully, still clinging to him. “Put me down.”

“Why? You cannot walk with your feet as they are and we cannot spare the time for you to rest and heal.” He shifted her closer as he began to stride down the narrow path, moving much faster than they had before.

“And you’re going to throw your back out carting me around like this.” She breathed in shallow pants, trying not to panic, and eased her arms around his neck just in case. “All right. So I’m seriously impressed you can actually pick me up, but enough is enough.”

“You hardly weigh anything.”

Had there been any trace of amusement on his face, she would have pinched him until he put her down and found a way to stagger along under own steam, but he actually looked confused.

“I’m not exactly skinny, Carradoc.”

“No. You are exactly the right size for you.”

Placating, patronizing words she’d heard countless times before and yet he honestly seemed to mean them. Melody subsided but she couldn’t bring herself to let go of his neck. While he might not be showing any sign that her weight bothered him, she wasn’t taking any chances on being dropped on her head. There were fairy tales and then there was the unbelievable.

“Where are we going?” she asked finally as time dragged by and he still showed no sign of tiring. She couldn’t deny they’d covered far more ground this way than if she’d been staggering along in his wake. The hills were flattening out and yellow-headed grass poked up through the stone now along with delicate purple flowers. Butterflies fluttered in clouds of white and yellow, drifts of delicate beauty.

“My gifts lie in death, not life, so I cannot return you to your world myself. We need to find someone who can.”

“How are we supposed to do that?”

“Before I left, I had heard rumors that the Seelie Court is near the upper edge of Loch Tairseach, a few days travel from here. If we can find them, perhaps you can petition them to return you home.”

Someone’s stomach growled.

Melody looked steadfastly ahead, refusing to take credit for the embarrassing noise. “How likely are they to help? I don’t recall any tales portraying the fair folk as anything but self-serving.” A flush ran under her skin. “No offense intended by that. Sorry.”

“No offense taken.” His mouth kicked up at the corners. “I’m not Fae. But you’re right. Humans have little to offer the Fae beyond amusement and the entertainment is rarely to the human’s liking.”

“The Wild Hunt.”

“No.” He sighed, his amusement fading. “The Fae don’t hunt. It has always been Anwyn that hunts. The Fae are creatures of life and laughter. Humans trapped in their wiles will dance until they can’t stand, eat until they burst or tup until they die.”

Tup? She knew that term and she was going to let that image die right where it was. Death by sex, as attractive as it sounded, was still dead. Not funny. Something he’d said penetrated.

“You’re not Fae?”

He said nothing for a long moment, no break in his long strides. He didn’t look at her. “You know better.”

Melody swallowed. She could watch slasher flicks and laugh, read horror stories that left her friends with nightmares and be unaffected, but the Horned King had been her personal boogie man as a child and still had the power to scare her to death.

“Gwydion sealed the door to the Dell of the Dead. You said so yourself.”

“Does it matter so much to you?”

She studied the clean carven planes of his face, the stark beauty of him as potent as a shot of raw whiskey. “No, but it matters to you.”

He made a harsh sound, lifting her high as he stepped around a jumble of broken stone and into a wide grassy meadow covered with gently bobbing faces of crimson poppies. Stopping, he set her back on her feet with care. She stretched, easing cramped muscles and breathed a sigh of pleasure until his next words stole the warmth from the sun.

“Gwydion of Prydain forced the Horned King into Anwyn and sealed the door. He was a mage, Melody, and a powerful one, but he was a human mage. The only door he could seal was the one in the human realm.”

She stared up at him, a chill edging down her spine. He seemed to be waiting for some kind of response from her. “You’re Arawn’s son.”

“Yes. His heir.”

She took a deep breath.

“Wow,” she said finally. “You don’t look a thing like him, but that must be one heck of a dysfunctional family.”

“You have no idea.” He didn’t move. “I don’t want you to fear me, Melody. I don’t think I could bear your fear.”

“I’m not afraid of you. Him? Yeah, terrified. But not you.”

He looked at her finally, his body still rigid. “You have such a beautiful, gentle soul and you’re trapped here with me. I have no gifts to help shield you or heal you. All I can promise is to protect you as best I am able.”

“Why?” The question burst from her. “You hardly know me.”

Reaching out, he brushed her cheek with his fingers, his face softening into something she could only describe as wistful.

“You have one of the most beautiful souls I’ve ever seen. Some things need to be protected and preserved.”

“You can see souls?” The idea fascinated her. “Really?”

“Really.” His mouth twitched. “Most people are horrified by the thought.”

“It probably makes them feel naked.” The explanation made her blush and she turned to look at the meadow. “Wow, this is pretty.”

“One rule you should remember in the Fae Realms. If it’s pretty, it’s probably dangerous.”

She glanced at him and decided it might not be in her best interests to remind him he was definitely pretty. She’d stick with the positives for now.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Do you feel up to walking?”

He moved into the meadow and she followed, the grass soft under her feet. Her muscles were stiff and she moved cautiously, but she felt better.

“A bit and slowly if you want to rest your poor back.”

“My back is fine. My sword weighs more than you do.”

“Sword?”

He snorted. “It’s back at my cousin’s home. He thought me ill mannered to carry it among humans blind to its presence.”

“Damien’s your cousin. Does that mean he’s from Anwyn, too?”

He shrugged. “His father was. His mother is a dragon.”

“Dragon? Damien’s mom is a dragon?” Ok, now this was starting to push against the bounds of her imagination. “Just how did that work?”

“Tara O’Morrow is one of the Great Dragons. She is a shape shifter and a person of great power in her own right.”

“But just how does that work for Damien?” She held out her hands as if weighing the idea. “I mean, a man,” she held up the other hand, “and a creature with wings. The magic’s got to do something weird with that. I know it.”

Carradoc’s grin was quick and devastating. He might look like a beautiful statue, cold and perfect, but the smile lit his face, softening the hard edges. For that brief instant, he looked more than gorgeous. He looked alive.

“You’re right in that. A man and a creature with wings spawned a man who becomes a creature with wings. His other form is a griffin.”

“Holy wow,” she murmured. “I knew he reminded me of a cat. And the others?”

“Others?” They were nearing the far edge of the meadow now and she let him pull ahead of her, just to be on the safe side.

“Yeah, others. You know, Eithné, Star and Centauri. You can’t tell me that they’re just ordinary folks like me.”

“Ordinary?” He shot her a quick look. “You are anything but ordinary.”

Flattered and flustered, she never found out what she would have said to that. As her foot touched the edge of the shadows under the trees, Carradoc wheeled, grabbing her waist, and threw her into the tree. No encouraging boost onto a branch. No suggestion that she might want to climb. He simply tossed her like a feather where he wanted her. She gripped the branch tight, reeling at the sudden change in venue. The last time she’d been up a tree, she’d been seven years old. The same day, she’d discovered Bobby Holden was wrong – fat didn’t make her bounce – and her arm had been stuck in a cast for the next six weeks.

Snorting growls came from deeper in the shadows, a menacing sound and one she really didn’t want to get closer acquainted with. Carradoc edged away from the tree, back toward the more open space of the meadow.

A creature followed, an odd beast and one she had no name for. About the size of a mountain lion, its scaly body dragged the ground on short, stumpy legs, the spines on its long tail getting caught in the brush along the way. On its back, two sets of wings rustled and shifted. The oddest thing, perhaps, was its face. With a narrow forehead and nose that hung in a solid arch toward a wide mouth, it looked like a fish with eyes on either side of its head instead of looking forward. What kind of weird dragon thing was it?

But if the thing could fly, why had he stuck her up a tree?

Melody clung to the branch and tried not to breathe hard. It would be just her luck to fall out of the tree when a hungry predator was wandering by.

Carradoc moved back into the sun, the black of his leather coat growing darker as if it absorbed the light. Below her, the creature swung its head back and forth, the strange growling rumbling in its throat. She had to wonder if it could even see him with its eyes on the side of its head that way. Or maybe it was smelling its way. She wasn’t exactly an expert on animals, Faery or otherwise.

The creature lumbered from under the tree and into the dappling sunlight. Colors wove iridescent across the double wings and shone on the dark green scales. If she weren’t up a tree wondering if it was carnivorous, it might have been a pretty sight.

When it moved, it moved fast. A slow, lumbering step into the meadow and it lunged forward, squat powerful legs propelling it faster than her eye could follow. Straight for Carradoc. Except that he wasn’t there anymore.

Coat swirling around him like a cape, he wheeled away. Entranced, she watched him move, always keeping just out of reach of the creature. Each time the creature struck, he was already gone. The distance between the creature and her tree grew with each successive pass.

“In my tree!”

A voice hissed in her ear and Melody started. A momentary wobble had her gripping the branch with both white knuckled hands and praying. The thicker branch that curved beside her opened its eyes and blinked at her. Swallowing a scream, Melody clutched her branch tighter.

“In my tree!”

The eyes came detached from the branch along with a body covered in brown skin that mottled and changed, reflecting the bark below. Vaguely humanoid in shape, the thing slunk along it branch until it hung directly beside her. Thin lips drew back in a snarl revealing small, sharp teeth.

Naiad? No, those were water spirits. Dryad? That was right but the knowledge didn’t help her at all. As her brain twitched and seized, trying to unearth any useful information about tree dwellers, the dryad crept from its branch onto hers. From the snarling curl of its lips and the hissing noise it was making, it wasn’t friendly. Melody clung to her branch in desperation and fell back on her experience in customer service: when in a tight spot, blame management.

“Hold it.”

The dryad paused, tilting its head to watch her with unblinking brown eyes.

“I didn’t climb your tree. I swear it. He put me in it.”

The dryad tucked its head to peer between the Autumn gilded leaves. “Him? Gave you to us?”

“No!” Breathing hard through her nose, she tried to figure out the least threatening way to say it. “He put me here so that thing couldn’t eat me. I had to go somewhere.”

Brown eyes blinked. “Not in my tree.”

Ok, narrow world view and no sympathy. She got it. She’d dealt with customers like this before. She opened her mouth to argue the point but the dryad darted toward her in a quick flick of motion.

She fell.

The ground thudded into her back and air whooshed out of her lungs in a wheezing rush. Stars sparked in front of her eyes. White and purple stars that danced and laughed. The dryad inched down the trunk like a lizard, eyes narrow and teeth showing. Ok, so she’d never had customers try to eat her before. Threaten her, yes, but they never actually tried to damage her. This one didn’t seem particularly concerned with assault charges or prison time.

As abruptly as it had given chase, it backed away, fading back into the bark of the tree and vanishing.

“Melody?” Carradoc was there, lifting her gently to sit, the stars still flitting about her head. “Are you hurt?”

She sucked air and coughed, feeling like a complete fool. “Only my dignity.”

Around her head, the purple and white stars giggled and darted in weaving patterns that threatened to upset her stomach. She closed her eyes and tried to breathe normally but she could still hear them.

“Enough!”

She flinched away but he pulled her close again, his hands moving over her shoulders in soothing circles. This was nice. Melody leaned into him, savoring the moment.

“Don’t like you,” a small voice piped.

“I don’t care.” Carradoc rested his chin on her head, wrapping his arms around her. “You’ll mind your manners.”

She chanced opening one eye. The purple star still whizzed about, darting to and fro like a firefly on acid. The white star now hung inches from the end of her nose. Carefully opening the other eye, she focused on the tiny ball of light.

A pretty little girl hung suspended within the light, pale yellow wings fluttering in a hummingbird whir of motion. Blond ringlets hung around a baby doll face and her dress appeared to be layers of fern fronds.

A pixie.

“Foxglove, behave.” The girl tossed her hair. “I’m curious.”

The purple glow bounced to a halt behind her, a slender youth dressed in purple hose with a flower on his head. With his tiny arms crossed and a petulant look on his face, he didn’t seem inclined to behave.

The girl bobbed a little. “Hello.”

Melody blinked. “Um, hello.”

“I’m Fern.”

“I’m Melody.” She clutched Carradoc’s arms and tried not to hyperventilate. “Nice to meet you.”

“You don’t fly very well,” the purple pixie noted over Fern’s shoulder.

“No. I don’t fly at all,” she corrected as gently as she could. “Speaking of which, what was that thing that got me up the tree to begin with?”

Carradoc eased back but she refused to let him go entirely. “Tasaraque. It’s a breed of dragon not as intelligent as the Great Dragons.”

“It had wings.”

“Tasaraque fly,” Fern nodded. “But they can only look down or sidewise. Where did it go?”

“Away.”

“You killed it?” Foxglove bristled at the thought.

“No.” Carradoc sighed. “It’s alive. It wandered off south.”

Melody peered up into the branches overhead. For a moment, brown eyes met hers and then faded back into the bark of the tree. No harm, no foul and she would keep her mouth shut. Suddenly, recognition struck and she looked at the pixie in her gown of ferns and smiled.

“Damien painted you into one of his pictures. That’s where I’ve seen you before.”

Fern bobbed closer. “The dragon witch’s son?”

Given that Damien’s mother was a dragon – her brain still boggled at the thought – it was a safe bet. “Yes. He painted this ginormous portrait of Star and you were in it, tucked up under a leaf looking sad.”

“You know Star?” Foxglove bounced and her eyes twitched, trying to follow him.

“Yes. I know Damien and Eithné better. Star only comes in once in a while.”

Carradoc lifted Melody to her feet before dusting her off, and she thanked him with a smile.

“Eithné’s my friend,” Foxglove boasted and then whirled to a stop just over her head. “Eithné hates him. She shoots him all the time so what are you doing with him?”

“It’s a wonder the ráthu hasn’t shot you yet,” Carradoc muttered. “And she’s only shot me twice.”

“Waste of bolts,” Fern shrugged. Melody had to wonder which of them she was talking about. But why would Eithné shoot him?

“Do either of you know if the Seelie Court is still on Loch Tairseach?” Carradoc asked, still dusting Melody. Checking for injuries, she realized. Either that or he was more worried about her than he’d let on.

“Why do you want to know?” Foxglove’s distrust bubbled to the surface again.

“Melody needs to get home and I can’t take her there.”

“Oh.” The pixie looked her over and shrugged. “Just leave her here, then.”

“I can’t.”

“She’s human. They’re awful fragile, you know. She might not make it back through a fairy ring intact.”

“She has no chance at all through the paths of the dead,” he shot back.

“Fíon brought the court there a few weeks ago,” Fern broke in. “Princess Starla has accepted Seelie hospitality and she can’t be far from the sea.” Her little face turned sad. “My mother went to Tir na Nog.”

The fairy mounds, Melody marveled in silence. This was like a crash course in fairy terminology. Maybe we should just go through Melody’s head and see how many fairy tales she’s got stuck in there. Maybe she was in a coma and this was just a bad dream. She rejected the thought. If anything, this felt more real than the rest of her life.

“We had best get moving if we’re going to catch the Seelie Court,” Carradoc nudged her. “Thank you, Fern, for your help.”

“Yes, thank you.” She smiled at the pixie in thanks only to have Foxglove dive-bomb her head like a crazed bumble bee.

“You didn’t thank me,” he sniped as he came to a hovering pause mid-air.

“You didn’t do anything but criticize and complain,” she shot back, her smile intact. “If you want thanks, do something constructive.”

“Do you know where I can find food for her?” Carradoc interjected, his tone weary.

“Not going to feed you.” Foxglove crossed his arms, the petulant look back on his little face. For a body so small, he packed a lot of attitude.

“I didn’t ask you to.” Carradoc sighed. “She’s hungry and needs food. I ask for nothing from the green wood for myself.”

“Oh.”

The pixie glanced at Fern whose little face was screwed up tight in thought.

“The laws of hospitality don’t apply to you, but they do to her.”

“If I gather the food, there is no obligation nor is this your home ground to invoke the law.”

Fern still looked concerned. “Why did you bring her here anyway? It’s not like you, Carradoc. You usually show more sense than that.”

“Thank you.” He inclined his head as if the question were a compliment. “The Moon Queen snatched us both from the human realm in order to punish the griffin. I claimed her as debt owed, but I doubt Luna will accept that without a fight. We need to keep moving and, as long as she is in my care, I have a responsibility to see she is fed and kept safe.”

“Ok.” The pixie bobbed in agreement. “Up ahead, there is a narrow stream. Go west about a half a mile and there is a berry patch that still has berries, but they’re deep in the brambles. Be careful, Carradoc,” she admonished, flitting up to hover beside the still grumbling Foxglove. “More than the Moon Queen hunts the night and the Broken Hills are less than a league away.”

“I’ll remember. Thank you again for your help, Fern. It will not be forgotten.”

The pixies vanished into the shadowy recesses of the forest. Stooping to gather her shoes from the base of the tree, Carradoc held out a hand.

“Do you wish to walk or do you need me to carry you?”

“I’ll walk for now but I don’t know how long that’s going to last,” she admitted. “I know it slows us down, but it seems stupid to waste your strength hauling me around like a side of beef.”

He nodded but seemed disappointed somehow. “As you wish. But, Melody? This time, tell me you need assistance before you fall down. All right?”