I remembered unfastening it when I’d traded clothes with that faerie. Had I left it by the river or brought it back to the fire?
I was such a disaster.
That dagger was one of only two things I needed, and I’d lost it.
My bare feet connected with the cold stones. Where had I left my boots? They weren’t in the room or under the bed. Perhaps they were with the missing dagger. Before I could check, I had to figure out how to look respectable with half my arse hanging out of a faerie’s dress.
Every time I tugged on the low neckline, the skirt got shorter.
If only I had my cloak.
Disaster.
Eventually, I gave up, hurried to the door, and slid the lock aside.
A hulking brute of a man was sprawled across the threshold, an overcoat tugged over his upper half, snoring loud enough to wake the dead.
Ruairi.
A pang of disappointment rang through my throbbing skull. Where was Tadhg? I nudged the pooka with my toe. He mumbled something and swatted at my foot like it was an annoying fly.
“Ruairi? Wake up.” This time, I kicked him in the ribs.
He launched upright with a bellowed curse. When he saw me, his bloodshot eyes widened as his gaze raked down my bare legs. “Sorry. I must’ve fallen asleep.”
“Why are you sleeping in front of my room?” Were there no rooms left?
Yawning, Ruairi stretched his large arms toward the ceiling. “I’m under orders to keep ye safe.”
Safe from monsters.
“Here.” Ruairi dug through a familiar leather satchel that he’d been using as a pillow and withdrew a stack of clothes, my gray cloak, boots, and the emerald dagger.
Oh, thank heavens.
“Tadhg said to give ye these. There’ll be breakfast outside once yer finished.”
“Where is Tadhg?” The hallway appeared empty on both sides. Had he stayed at home? Had he stayed alone?
Ruairi rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. “He’s busy today.”
“He’s busy? Busy with what?”
Ruairi yawned again. “Important business.”
Business with Áine or some other woman no doubt. Why was I destined to be attracted to men who were no good for me? “And what does he expect me to do while he’s conducting this important business?”
The skin around Ruairi’s eyes crinkled when he grinned. “Yer gonna travel with me to Kinnock. He’ll meet us there.”
Brilliant. Just bloody brilliant. Tadhg thought he could pawn me off on his friend. The nerve. I thanked Ruairi and retreated to my room. If Tadhg had been here, he could’ve shifted me a bath. But he was busy.
I wanted to throttle him. Instead, I took my frustration out on the cursed mourning gown. The boning in the stay jabbed my ribs, and the tight sleeves cut off my circulation, restricting my movements. Part of me wished I could just wear the faerie’s dress.
When I finished, Ruairi wasn’t in the hallway or outside the tower. In the clearing, the only signs of the bonfire were ashes, scorched earth, and a handful of broken green bottles. A small picnic had been spread atop one of the flat rocks.
My stomach protested at the idea of food, but I forced myself to eat a handful of strawberries and one of the buttery croissants. With no one around to distract me, last night’s revelations slinked to the forefront of my mind.
Tadhg’s brother was the Gancanagh.
What were the odds?
Fate had a terribly wicked sense of humor.
It was time to formulate a new plan. I’d started this journey relying on the word of one witch and very few facts. Now I had access to other sources. Access to the Danú. Perhaps Ruairi could shed some light on the Gancanagh and his motives for killing Aveen.
The other pooka emerged from the tower, shirtless and whistling a happy tune. His hair stuck up at all angles, and he didn’t seem the least bit ashamed by his disheveled state when he saluted me and sauntered into the forest.
I snagged an apple, stuffed it into my cloak pocket, and started for the fields. Ruairi had a silver-haired faerie pinned against a tree at the edge of the forest. I wasn’t sure whether to keep going and pretend I hadn’t seen them or go back and wait at the stones.
“I’ll be with ye in a moment, human,” Ruairi threw over his shoulder. The faerie caught his jaw between her hands and brought his mouth to hers.
With my face burning, I continued into the sunlit field. A few moments later, a saddled black stallion emerged from the forest. The thought of riding again trumped any fear I had about traveling alone with a pooka. If he had wanted to hurt me, he would have done it already.
“I assumed we’d be walking,” I told him, catching the leather bridle and giving Ruairi a pat on his powerful shoulder.
“Tadhg said yer feet were blistered.” Ruairi shook his massive head, and his ears twitched. “He figured ye could use a break from trekking across the countryside.”
And here I thought I’d concealed my limp yesterday.
I slipped my foot into the stirrup, gripped the horn, and launched myself into the saddle. The rich leather had been embossed with swirls and knots.
“Comfortable?” he asked.
“Very.”
Ruairi started forward at a canter. It took my body a few minutes to adjust to the movement. He passed the hawthorn tree where the faeries lived and continued to a break in the crumbling stone wall separating the fields.
“Are we doing this fast or slow?”
When would I ever have another chance to do this? I grinned at the rolling countryside stretching before me and said, “Fast.”
All plans for asking Ruairi about the Gancanagh evaporated the moment he rocketed forward, galloping like a host of sluagh nipped at his hooves. My hands gripped the reins so tightly they they fused to the leather. Hours slipped by like minutes as he ate up the distance between us and the city of Kinnock.
Kinnock was only seven days from Tearmann. I should’ve been excited about making up for lost time, but I wasn’t. When we arrived at the castle, I would be forced to make some pretty big decisions.
My sister or Tadhg’s brother? Who would live and who wouldn’t? How was I supposed to choose?
My hair whipped, stinging my cheeks and neck. I drank the fresh air of freedom, letting it wash away the lingering effects of the faerie wine.
Eventually, my stomach could be heard growling over the sound of hooves on dirt. “Ruairi?” I gave the reins a slight tug.
He came to a sudden stop, jolting me forward. The horn rammed into my side.
“What is it? Do ye need to get sick?”
I pressed a shaking hand to my racing heart. “No, no. I’m just hungry.”
“Can you wait a little longer? We’re nearly at our rendezvous point.”
I told him I could wait, and we continued for another ten minutes. Then Ruairi navigated off the road and squeezed his massive body between a gap in the hedge to where a familiar figure waited with a picnic spread across a plaid blanket.
Tadhg wore a black waistcoat missing all but the top button. The skin beneath his bloodshot eyes appeared bruised from exhaustion. “What took you so long?”
“Long?” Ruari snorted. “We made it in record time. Your little human is quite the horsewoman.”
Hiding my smile, I climbed down. A day in the saddle left my legs weak and wobbly. Luckily, Tadhg caught me before I tumbled headfirst into the grass. “Sorry.” I gave him a sheepish smile. “My legs are completely numb.”
He brushed the hair from my face with the back of his hand, his eyes boring into mine. “Ruairi should’ve made you take a break.”
“It’s fine. Really.” I tried to pull away, but he held firm.
“Are you well? Did you get sick?”
There had been some close calls on the way, but he didn’t need to know about those. “I wasn’t that drunk.”
He rolled his eyes and chuckled. “You were dancing half-naked around a bonfire with a pooka. I’d say yo
u were plenty drunk.”
The reminder made my face burn. I had been dancing with Ruairi and the faeries, spinning and laughing and stumbling around. “You saw that?”
“I couldn’t look away,” he whispered against the shell of my ear. “Did you keep the dress?”
My breath caught in my throat when my skirts fluttered and his magic slipped around my ankles like it had last night. Words escaped me, so I shook my head.
“Pity.”
“Are we going to eat, or do I need to evanesce and let the two of ye rut in the field like feckin’ animals?” Ruairi muttered, his tail swishing in irritation.
Tadhg let me go and walked stiffly to our lunch. He’d brought a plate of beef brisket that smelled like it had been cooked in heaven, a bowl of crispy croquettes, and lemon cake wrapped in a tea towel. In a basket were clay plates, cups, and utensils.
Ruari collapsed onto his side in the grass and closed his eyes. The sunshine glinted off his onyx coat.
“Aren’t you going to shift?” I asked, setting the dishes on the blanket in front of Tadhg and myself.
One yellow eye opened. “If any humans come by and see me, they’ll know what I am. And I don’t fancy getting run through today. I’m afraid I’m a horse until I get to go home.”
What must it be like to need to hide your identity every day because you feared for your life? Padraig had used a glamour, and Ruairi could be a horse. Even Tadhg had his hair to cover his ears. Why did they need to hide in the first place? Really, what made them so fearsome though? Sure, some of them were evil, like Fiadh and the kelpie. But the majority of them were more like us than not.
You’re not that different from us.
Tadhg had been right.
I cut off a bit of brisket and held it toward Ruairi.
He jerked his head away with a snort. “Pooka don’t eat that shite. We’re vegetarians.”
Vegetarians? “All of you?”
He huffed a breath through his nose. I took that as a yes. Why were we taught that pooka ate humans when they didn’t even eat meat? I traded the brisket for the apple from my pocket. I could’ve sworn Ruairi smiled when he delicately plucked it from my grasp with his teeth.
Tadhg pulled a croquette in half and popped it into his mouth, watching us as he chewed. I ate quietly, lost in my own thoughts as Tadhg and Ruairi traded good-natured insults. I liked seeing Tadhg like this, laughing and jovial. He was so different from the man who’d been cooped up with me in the carriage.
“How do you two know each other?” I asked between bites of brisket, using my sleeve to clean my mouth like a heathen.
Ruairi nudged Tadhg’s shoulder with his muzzle. “I’ve known this bastard my entire life.”
“Much to my eternal dismay,” Tadhg sighed.
“I can imagine young Tadhg being quite a handful.” An unruly, dark-haired little boy who had grown into an unruly, dark-haired man.
Smirking, Tadhg wiped his hands on his breeches. “I prefer the term ‘spirited.’”
“Spirited? I was spirited.” Ruairi’s ears twitched as he bobbed his head. “Ye were little devils. Always getting into trouble with Rían—and dragging me down with ye. We’ve had more than a few switches across our backsides. And Máire, Tadhg and Rían’s governess, had a strong arm.”
Tadhg had grown up with a governess? For some reason, I’d assumed he’d grown up in a small cottage somewhere in Tearmann. But if the Gancanagh was his brother, then Tadgh would be a prince as well. Although he didn’t look like a prince. Did that mean he’d been raised in a castle?
If I asked, then he’d find out that I had learned his secret. Would he ever trust me enough to tell me himself?
Tadhg stretched his legs and crossed them at the ankles, brushing against my skirts. In the distance, sheep grazed in the rolling fields. “Do you remember how she insisted on serving liver and onions every Friday? The lying witch tried convincing me it was funny-tasting steak.”
Liver and onions had been the bane of my existence growing up. Just the thought made my stomach lurch.
“When she wasn’t looking,” Tadhg went on, snagging another croquette, “I’d shift myself shortbread biscuits from the kitchens. And when my father dressed me in fancy clothes, I’d roll in mud puddles and stomp in muck and come home smelling worse than a grogoch.”
“You did not.” Although I hid my smile behind my hand, my laughter wasn’t as easy to stifle. My mother would’ve lost her life if I’d tried anything like that when I was younger. Aveen and I had always been dressed to impress, like prized ponies at the fair.
“Tell her about the time ye found the man in a field,” Ruairi urged, nudging Tadhg’s shoulder.
“Once, I caught a drunkard going for a . . . ah . . . relieving himself near a faerie tree. I frightened him so badly that he ended up screaming through the field with his breeches around his ankles, tripping and getting stuck on a wall with his bare arse in the air.”
Ruairi’s laughter was a harsh wheeze. “And the wine. Tell her about the wine.”
“What about the wine?” I leaned forward to brace my arms on my bent knees.
“I don’t know why you find this story so amusing,” Tadhg grumbled, rolling his eyes toward the gray sky. Crows circled overhead, no doubt waiting to see what we left behind. “All we did was drink some ceremonial wine.”
“Some?” Ruairi snorted. “Ye drained every bottle in the feckin’ church the night before Yule, and they had to use faerie wine instead. The parishioners were drunker than a clurichaun, stumbling down the chapel stairs after the service.”
“I think I would’ve liked you when you were a boy,” I confessed.
“He wouldn’t have liked ye,” Ruairi said. “Couldn’t even talk to a lady without getting tongue-tied and sweaty. Nearly pissed himself when Shona tried to pull him into the forest for a snog.”
Tadhg flicked his friend’s ear. “I don’t remember you seducing any of our playmates at eight years old.”
“Most of the eight-year-old boys I knew were too busy fighting with wooden swords to pay Aveen and I any attention.” She hadn’t minded, preferring flowers to men. But I’d gone out of my way to try and draw their attention away from their pretend battles.
“That would’ve been myself and Rían—although he’s useless with a sword.”
I imagined a faceless little boy playing with a wooden sword. What had made him grow up to become a murderer?
Ruairi nuzzled the plate of croquettes. Tadhg grabbed one and tossed it at him.
“Tell her what ye did when ye were nine,” Ruairi said when he’d finished chewing.
Tadhg’s neck turned red beneath the collar. “I asked every female I met for a kiss for an entire year.”
“It’s true,” Ruairi said with a laugh. “Old or young, pretty or plain, Tadhg would stroll up to them, bow, offer a gap-toothed grin, and then ask for a kiss.”
Tadhg gave me a crooked smile and a wink. “How was I supposed to get any good at it if I didn’t practice?”
My stomach fluttered when I thought of the way Tadhg had kissed me last night.
He must’ve had a lot of practice.
Kinnock was known for being a volatile city, with Danú often taking up arms against the human overlords. Chaotic energy swelled with the wide river cutting through the city’s center, made more tense by the heavy Vellanian army presence.
Ruairi left us at the forest’s edge, and we made our way toward the castle nestled at a bend in the river. The imposing gray fortress had four low turrets on each corner. Beyond it stretched an arched stone bridge lined with empty pikes, awaiting victims.
Women in fine dresses passed in swirls of perfume, looking down their noses at me as Tadhg and I strolled through the market.
Tadhg seemed oblivious to the looks he received—most filled with unveiled appreciation.
“I think the women of Kinnock are all besotted with you,” I told him after yet another handkerchief had fallen at his feet. He hadn’t b
othered to pick up any of them.
“Do you think so?” He glanced around us as though he hadn’t noticed the way women swooned when he passed. As if they knew who he really was, a Prince of Tearmann. That alone would make them look past his ears. And if he kissed them, they’d never recover.
“You’re probably the most handsome man they’ve ever seen.”
He knocked his hip against mine. “Am I the most handsome man you’ve ever seen?”
“No. I think you’re atrocious.”
A grin. “Liar.”
I twisted toward a shop window to hide my answering smile. If he didn’t stop being so damn charming, I was going to end up dragging him into an alley to finish what we’d started last night.
A lovely sapphire-blue gown encrusted with sparkling blue beads had been displayed on a dress form inside. It was wildly impractical, even for someone not in mourning and exactly what I would’ve worn a few months ago.
Tadhg watched me, his head cocked to the side. “If you like it so much, you should buy it.”
“With what money?”
He raised his eyebrows. “Check your purse.”
“I don’t have a—” A purse that hadn’t been there a moment ago dangled at my waist. It felt like there was more money inside than there had been when it was stolen. “You got it back?”
A smile. “Did I?”
Every part of me wanted to embrace him, but I refrained. Allowing my feelings for him to grow would be foolish considering the complicated situation with his brother. “Thank you, Tadhg. Sincerely.”
Behind us, someone shouted. A crowd had gathered at the far end of the street, beside the castle wall, where soldiers led prisoners from the dark recesses beneath the structure. The people jeered; some spit, others threw stones.
The prisoners all wore hoods. Bare arms beneath ragged clothes, bound by iron chains, revealed them for what they were: Danú.
“What do you think they’ve done wrong?” I asked, careful to keep my voice down as we moved closer.
“Besides being born different, you mean?” Tadhg lifted to his toes to peer over another man’s head. “Could be anything. That grogoch may have sneezed on a human; the pooka may have been caught shape-shifting.” Pointing to the smallest figure in the line, he said, “The abcan may have written a poem that painted the king in a less-than-favorable light. And I’d imagine the far darrig at the end didn’t pay taxes on the magic he wields but isn’t allowed to use. They’re notoriously tight bastards.”
A Cursed Kiss (Myths of Airren Book 1) Page 17
