by Chant, Zoe
“I could do with some of that,” Tamsin admitted. She tugged at the collar of her rather stained and crumpled shirt, nose wrinkling. “Even a non-magical bath would be great.”
He bowed, gathering up his armor as he did so. “I shall give you some privacy, but I shall not be far away. If you need me, I will come.”
“I know,” she said softly. “I do know that, at least.”
He hesitated, looking back at her. Some of the defensive wariness had left her stance, but her expression was conflicted.
“Tamsin,” he said, voice roughening despite his best efforts. “As I said, I do not want you to tell me all your secrets. Just promise me that you will never hesitate to call on me. I will always help you, in whatever way you need, no matter my own hopes or dreams. Trust me in that, if no further.”
She wrapped her arms around herself, looking away. And said nothing.
Chapter 13
Tamsin sank down into the steaming, glowing pool with a sigh. The heat of the water unknotted her muscles, but couldn’t touch her tangled thoughts.
“I want to trust Cuan,” she said to no one in particular. “I do trust him. I’m just not sure whether I can trust myself.”
Angus cocked an ear at her voice. He scrabbled up onto the rim of the hot spring pool, sniffed at the water, and sneezed.
“You’re not impressed with fairyland, are you, baby?” Tamsin reached over to scratch him in the good spot, under the chin. “And you really don’t like Cuan, for some reason.”
That fact, even more than Betty’s warning, gave her pause. Angus had always had uncannily good judgement about people. She hadn’t seen him take such an instant dislike to someone since her friend Jack’s asshole ex.
“At least you haven’t peed in Cuan’s shoes,” Tamsin said to Angus. “But I wish I knew why you’re so suspicious of him. It can’t just be because he isn’t human. You don’t have any problem with Motley, and I think you were just overexcited by Aodhan. So why is Cuan different? Is it just jealousy? Or something more?”
Angus shook himself. Apparently feeling that he’d received enough adulation for the moment, he trotted off. He nosed at an outcropping of shimmering amethyst crystals, then settled down for a good chew.
Tamsin sighed again. She leaned her head back, gazing up at the darkening sky. Stars gleamed through the swirling veil of steam, bright and alien. The foreign constellations only made her feel further from home.
“I just want to go home,” she whispered.
She had to hold on to that simple fact. No matter how beautiful the fae realm could be, she didn’t belong here. No matter how her lips still tingled with the heat of Cuan’s kiss…
Just the memory made heat pool in her belly, in a way that had nothing to do with the warmth of the hot springs. She brushed her fingertips over her mouth, still feeling the press of his.
He’d kissed her as though she was the air he needed to breathe. He’d made her feel so alive, so cherished and desired…
She groaned, ducking completely under the water. It had been the most intense experience of her life…and she didn’t know if it had even been real. Cuan was high sidhe, after all. He could have been using glamour to literally make her feel those things.
Betty’s right. I can’t trust my own senses. I have be on my guard.
Through the murmur of the water, a muffled noise reached her ears, jolting her out of her inner turmoil. She broke through the surface again, pushing her hair out of her eyes.
“Angus?” she called.
Her dog barked again, sharp and alarmed. He stood stiff-legged, facing one of the other pools, fur bristling all down his spine.
Tamsin sat up further, very aware that she was naked and armed only with a Pomeranian. She crossed an arm over her chest, hiding her breasts as she tried to peer through the swirling fog.
“Cuan?” she said uncertainly. “Is that you?”
Bubbles broke the surface of the other pool. Water fountained up, as though someone had turned on a pump. Tamsin pressed further back against the crystal wall, heart hammering—and then stared, her breath catching in wonder.
The bubbling water mounded, taking the shape of a long, equine muzzle. A horse’s head emerged from the water—but it was water. From the deep, intelligent eyes to its pricked ears, every part of it was transparent as the finest crystal.
Deep down, some part of Tamsin hollered that she should be afraid…but she wasn’t. Even though Angus was now barking his head off, she didn’t feel the slightest bit alarmed herself. Nothing so beautiful, so ethereal and perfect, could possibly be dangerous.
The horse pulled itself up, standing poised on the rippling surface of the water. Its tail and mane streamed like rain, in constant motion. Its eyes were as deep and mysterious as the ocean.
The creature lifted one long, elegant leg. Little droplets broke free from its hoof, plinking back into the pool from which it had emerged.
Angus yelped, scrabbling away from the creature as it stepped out of the water. Tamsin waded forward, drawn by the horse’s beauty. Leaning on the edge of her pool, she reached out a wet, dripping hand.
“Hello,” she whispered.
The horse dipped its head, watery mane tumbling like sea-foam over its gleaming crystalline body. Its breath whispered against her outstretched palm; ice-cold, but somehow enticing, like a cool pool on a hot day.
She was distantly aware that Angus had stopped barking, but that didn’t seem important right now. Not with those deep, deep eyes gazing at her, seeming to see straight into her soul. The pool was only came up to her waist, and yet she felt as though she was floating, floating away…
The horse lowered itself further, onto one knee. Still holding her gaze, it turned its head, shaking back its mane. This close, she could see now that there was a gossamer-fine silver chain looped around its head like a halter. Reins swung loose around its neck, within easy reach.
Its back shivered, rippling, mounding up. The water solidified into the shape of a small, glassy saddle.
The horse blew out its breath again; gently, invitingly.
And Tamsin reached for the reins.
Chapter 14
Despite his best intentions, thoughts of what Tamsin would be doing now kept stealing into Cuan’s mind.
The soft whisper of fabric over her earth-brown skin. The lap of water around her toes as she tested the water. The gentle ripples caressing her soft thighs, lapping higher…
Cuan gritted his teeth, and tried very hard to think about something else. Anything else.
How to hunt down the manticore that had been threatening the southern wood-sidhe enclaves. The likelihood of seelie raiders crossing the border this moon. Cheese. Angus—
Angus?
The dog’s distinctive yap echoed down the gully. Cuan started, his scimitars springing into his hands. He’d barely taken three strides down the path when Angus appeared like a fuzzy orange fireball, shrieking as though the entire Wild Hunt was on his tail.
“Tamsin,” Cuan breathed.
He broke into a run, shifting into wolf form for extra speed. Angus tagged at his heels, tiny legs a blur, gamely attempting to keep up with his much larger stride.
A scent tickled Cuan’s sensitive nose, whispering under the stronger wafts of wet stone and lichen. Not the chalky smells of the mineral-infused hot springs, but something greener, sharper, like a mountain brook cutting through mossy banks.
He knew that scent.
Cuan doubled his pace, leaving Angus in his dust. Even as he burst into the steam-filled springs, he was leaping, stretching every muscle to breaking point.
There was no time to be gentle, not with Tamsin’s fingertips nearly brushing the water horse’s rippling hide. Cuan crashed into her at top speed, knocking her away. They both fell into the spring with an almighty splash, water closing over their heads.
Cuan shifted back into man form, dragging Tamsin to the surface. She clung to him, gasping, water streaming down her bare shou
lders.
“Aw.” The water horse flicked its tail in an equine pout. “Spoilsport.”
Cuan thrust Tamsin behind him, summoning a sword. The horse looked at it, then at him, with a really? kind of expression.
“You do appreciate that I’m made of water, right?” The horse thrust out its head, offering him its throat. “I mean, if it will make you feel better, go ahead. Stick it in. Swish it about a bit. Get me all stirred up.”
With a frustrated snarl, Cuan banished his sword, since it truly couldn’t do him any good. He kept his own body in front of Tamsin, shielding her from view.
“Neifion,” he growled. “I swear by the Shining Ones, if you try that again I shall pour you into an iron pot and boil you.”
“Cuan,” Tamsin gasped, still clutching his arm as she was drowning. “What—what is that thing?”
“Thing?” The water horse arched its neck, looking offended. “Thing? Hmph. See if I offer to take you for a nice ride again.”
“His name’s Neifion,” Cuan said to Tamsin. “He’s a kelpie. His kind enthrall people. They like to entice the unwary into mounting them.”
Neifion wiggled his ears suggestively, like eyebrows. “In more ways than one.”
“It had me completely under its spell.” Tamsin’s voice went high and tight, trembling on the verge of shock. “If, if Angus hadn’t barked, if you hadn’t come—”
“Hush.” Cuan turned quickly, catching her in his arms. He held her tight against his chest, trying very hard to ignore the smooth warmth of her bare skin under his palms. “You are fine. All is well. Nothing happened.”
Neifion’s watery body shimmered, shrinking. He solidified into his man form, tall and handsome, dressed in leggings and a fine silk shirt that clung to his damp chest. As ever, a few tendrils of waterweed twined in his blue-green hair, betraying his true nature. The silver chain of his bridle winked around his neck.
“Aw, don’t cry, human lady.” For once, the kelpie seemed genuinely chagrined. “Really, I wasn’t going to hurt you.”
“He truly wouldn’t have harmed you,” Cuan said to Tamsin. “Just raced around with you for a bit, until he got bored and threw you off his back.”
“Don’t worry, I’d have made sure you had a soft landing.” Neifion flashed a wicked grin. “Very soft. And deep. And smelly.”
Cuan ignored this, concentrating on rubbing Tamsin’s back in gentle, soothing circles. “I’m sorry. If I’d known he was in the area, I would never have left you alone. But you were never in any real danger. Kelpies are more of a pest than anything else.”
“I think you mean to say that we brighten up otherwise dull and tedious days with unexpected excitement,” Neifion corrected. “And screaming.”
Tamsin’s taut muscles were finally starting to relax. She drew in a deep, shuddering breath, and let it out again, slowly. She looked up, meeting his eyes at last—and stiffened all over.
He jerked his own gaze upward, fixing his eyes on the stars rather than the heavenly body in his arms.
“Neifion,” he gritted out. “Go away.”
“Are you sure you wouldn’t like me to fetch you a towel?” Cuan couldn’t see the kelpie’s expression, but he could hear the smirk. “Maybe help you dry those difficult-to-reach areas?”
“Neifion.”
“Just trying to be friendly.” The kelpie’s footsteps retreated, turning into the clop of hooves. “Nice to meet you, human lady. If you ever fancy a different steed between your thighs, always happy to oblige.”
With a soft splash, the kelpie disappeared back into one of the pools. Cuan waited until his nose told him that the water horse had truly left before releasing Tamsin.
“Wait a moment,” he murmured, still being careful to keep his gaze averted as he hoisted himself out of the spring. “I will fetch you a towel.”
There was a cedar wood chest by the hot springs, enchanted to always be filled with fresh linens from the storerooms of Maeve’s sidhean. Lifting the lid, Cuan drew out a lavender-scented towel, kept warm by the casket’s magic. Doing his best not to drip all over it, he squelched back to the hot springs.
“Here.” He shook it out, holding it for her to step into. “Unless you wish to bathe further?”
“No.” Tamsin wrapped the towel around herself. Even though it enveloped her from head to ankle, she shivered. “Kind of had enough of water for a while. Maybe forever.”
He longed to draw her into his arms again…but he did not think that she would welcome his touch. And not just because he was soaked to the skin himself.
“I will stand guard while you dress,” he said, wishing with all his heart that he could do more. “And then I will take you home.”
She flinched. Too late, he realized what he’d said.
He cursed himself. “I am sorry. I meant—”
“I know what you meant,” Tamsin said softly. She drew the towel tighter around herself, turning away. “It’s okay, Cuan.”
And he knew that it wasn’t.
Chapter 15
Tamsin was no great horsewoman at the best of times. Riding a giant magical steed bareback, without a bridle, through thick, wild woodland, when her knees felt like jelly and she was barely managing to hold herself together…turned out to be a lot easier than she’d expected.
Cuan’s broad back carried her as smoothly and gently as a rocking horse. She didn’t think she could fall off if she tried. He responded to every tiny shift of her weight instantly, keeping himself underneath her despite the uneven ground.
If she shut her eyes and ignored the wind whistling past her ears, it felt like they weren’t moving at all. Yet the world whipped by in a green blur, Cuan’s thundering hooves eating up the miles with impossible speed.
Everything seemed dreamlike. She felt as though she was floating, wrapped in a fragile bubble of false calm. She had a weird, irrational conviction that as long as she was on Cuan, buoyed up by his strength, nothing could hurt her.
It was an illusion, of course. Fake. Like everything else in fairyland.
She tightened her arms around Angus, bundled up in a towel on her lap like a small angry burrito. If nothing else, he was solid and reliable. Right now, she really needed that anchor to reality.
“Sorry, baby,” she murmured, petting him. “Not much further. I hope.”
One of Cuan’s ears swiveled in her direction. He turned his neck a little to look back at her, his breakneck pace never faltering. His eyes were a deep, vibrant gold, the same as they were in his wolf form.
“We are nearly at Lady Maeve’s sidhean.” His equine muzzle didn’t move at all, but she heard Cuan’s deep voice as clearly as if he was standing next to her on two feet. Cuan turned his head forward again, ears pricking to indicate the horizon. “Do you see it now?”
Tamsin sat up a bit, straining her eyes. The moon seemed larger and brighter here than in her own world, bathing the forest in crisp, cold light. By that unearthly radiance, she picked out the shape of a large hill thrusting up through the trees ahead.
“That’s what Fair Hill looks like, here?” Thanks to Motley’s portals, she hadn’t had a chance to see it from the outside before now. “It’s bigger than it is in my world, but it still doesn’t look anywhere near large enough to contain all those grand halls and rooms.”
“A sidhean is a special place, a kind of joining-point between worlds. It appears as a mere hill from the outside, but in truth it is much more than that. It exists in its own space.”
“So it’s a TARDIS.” Cuan’s golden eye rolled, giving her a blank look, and Tamsin grimaced. “Sorry. Human cultural reference. Would take way too long to explain. I mean, it’s bigger on the inside than on the outside?”
He nodded, his long black mane flowing with the motion. “Some of our mages are able to alter their structure, summoning new chambers or reworking the old. But if we ever knew how to construct a sidhean from nothing, that art has long since been lost. The ones that are left to us are rare and precious
. Doubly so if their connection to the human realm still stands, as this one does. Although we withdrew from your world long ago, many unseelie high sidhe still dream of one day returning to reclaim our rightful place.”
Tamsin shivered at the thought. Cuan’s hide twitched underneath her thighs as though he too found the prospect disturbing.
“The Wild Hunt keep you guys out though, right?” she asked.
“Yes. And the seelie fae guard the borders as well.” Cuan’s nostrils flared in a horsey sigh. “They believe that it would be best for our worlds to be permanently divided. For our sake, not yours. The greatly fear that humans might find a way to devastate our realm too, as you have ruined your own.”
Tamsin had a knee-jerk impulse to protest that humans weren’t that bad…but she stopped herself. Maybe it was best if the fae did believe her world was some kind of bombed-out post-apocalyptic wasteland.
Anything to keep high sidhe like Maeve from moving in next door.
As they drew closer to the faerie hill, Cuan slowed down. He dropped first to a trot, then a walk, and finally stood still. Tamsin glanced around, but couldn’t see anything other than woodland.
“What is it?” she asked. “Do you need me to get off here?”
Cuan didn’t answer for a moment, staring ahead at the dark bulk of the hill. Then he shook himself—somehow managing not to jolt her at all—and started walking again.
“No,” he said, his deep voice dropping yet further. “You are weary. I will carry you inside.”
Tamsin opened her mouth to protest that she wasn’t a weak fainting flower, but he’d already broken into that impossibly fast canter. In a matter of moments, they were out from under the trees.
The flank of the hill rose in a smooth, grassy slope before them. Cuan changed course, trotting toward a patch of hillside that looked—to Tamsin’s eyes, at least—no different from any other bit.
As he drew closer, though, the turf shimmered. Abruptly two towering stones rose in front of them, topped with a third laid cross-ways across the top to form a square arch. It reminded Tamsin of Stonehenge, except this stone formation was big enough for a whole parade of elephants to pass under without ducking.
