Chapter 4: Prince of Never: Chapter 3

Lara

“What?” I mutter as I crack my eyelids open.

The pain in my head feels like a thousand tiny knives stabbing my brain. I’m cold, and something sharp digs into my back. It sure doesn’t feel like my bed’s comfortable mattress.

I lift my head, and the knives pierce deeper. Damn. The headache I had yesterday has only gotten worse, and I don’t even remember arriving home after my shift at the diner last night.

Knowing my luck, I’ve been hit by a car, and I’m currently lying in a sterile hospital bed. But instead of machines beeping and nurses talking, there’s a tinkling sound, like running water.

So, where am I?

I squint hard and my surroundings slowly come into focus. What I see shocks my heart into cartwheels.

Immediately in front of me looms a large shadow and, behind it, bright rays of pewter-colored light stream down from the heavens like a Renaissance painting. I blink, trying to work out the details of… hang on, wait a second.

How in the world can I be outside in broad daylight?

The last thing I remember was meeting those freaky bachelorette girls after work, the church bells tolling, a white-haired girl shining. That was midnight. So now what time is it? Heck, what day is it?

I stare down at the moss-covered rock I’m splayed over while my brain scrambles to solve the puzzle of how I got here—wherever in the world here is.

“I’ll ask once more,” says a voice made of nightmares, the deep rumble confirming the shadow is in fact a man. Back-lit by a silvery sun, all I can make out of his appearance is a halo of shimmering hair. “Which tree stump did you crawl out from, grubby wood varmint?”

“What?”

“You are fortunate we speak the same language, little worm.”

Little worm? Who says things like that?

Wincing, I hoist myself onto my elbows and attempt to clear my brain-fog with a violent head shake. Ow. Mega pain. Bad idea.

Slowly, the guy’s metallic-colored eyes materialize out of the gloom. Intense and dazzling, they’re set wide in a scowling face and surrounded by a wild mane of golden hair. Next to the man, a humongous hairy animal pants foul breath in my face. It’s some kind of dog.

“Balor,” the man says. “I told you to stay back. Shall I tie you to Jinn on the way home?”

Balor? Jinn? What strange names. Those creepy girls must have drugged me, and then left me for dead. The absolute cows. But why would they do that? I had nothing of value in my pockets.

I guess people will do anything to feed their bellies or their drug habits. It’s sad. Too many people suffer in this city, and sometimes l hate living in it.

Okay, back to the scary guy—drug dealer, pick pocket—whatever he is, maybe if I don’t look at him, he’ll disappear. I should tell him I don’t have any money on me.

“Answer me!” he thunders, making me yelp.

Flight reaction kicking in, I flee backward, shuffling over rough rocks before losing my balance and falling into something wet. Oh, God. I’m in a creek or a river.

I’m going to die young like my mom did. This is the end.

The guy is unlikely to save me, but that doesn’t stop me screaming and flapping my limbs around in panic.

“Seven storms, Balor,” he growls. “Must you always catch fools at inconvenient times?”

The dog barks like it’s ready to attack.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I prepare to have my throat chewed open. I hope it won’t hurt too much.

Water splashes my face, then my coat collar is seized. I’m dragged through the shallow creek, boots scraping rocks, and then dumped like a bag of garbage onto spongy grass.

“Don’t dare scream,” the man orders.

Hugging them close, I bury my face in my knees. A pair of black leather boots is visible on the ground beside me. I should check this guy out. Is he a friend or foe? Savior or murderer?

“And do not cry.” His boots squelch in the wet grass as he shifts his weight. “There’s nothing in the seven worlds I hate more than tears.”

If he’s here to help, he’s a very unsympathetic rescuer. What did I do to deserve such callous treatment? I’m not a bad person. Truly, I’m not. My chest heats, threatening to boil over with fury. How dare this guy be so rude?

I can’t bear injustice. It makes me lose my mind. I want to scream and yell at him. Even if he’s a grumpy cop here to help, I’d really like to smack his face.

“Sorry to be such an inconvenience.” Blinking back the despised tears, I force myself to glare up a set of long legs to his… Wait. Flaming. Hell. Oh, boy.

The guy stands before me, hands braced next to a sword hilt that’s strapped to his hips, and he’s wearing full-on fantasy costume. What’s surprising is the outfit’s not the tiniest bit lame—he looks amazing. And convincingly scary.

A massive lump in my throat makes it impossible to speak. Or scream. I open my mouth to try and nothing comes out. I pat my pockets, searching for my cell. I need to phone Isla, then get a photo of him. Otherwise, she’ll never believe me. No, what am I thinking? I should call 911.

But there’s no phone to be found. What do I do?

Goggle-eyed and silent, I watch in horror as his expression darkens. He looks furious. It’s weird how he seems so familiar, like an indistinct face from a fading dream.

“Have you swallowed your tongue, creature of the mud?”

“I… no, I…” I begin, trailing off into dumb silence. I’ve gone into shock.

Flinging his hand out as if he’d like to whack me over the head with it, he says, “Yes? Do go on.”

From wrist to elbow, one arm is covered in an antique archer’s bracer, intricately patterned, and it’s beautiful to behold, just like the rest of him.

I gape at his lustrous silver and gold magnificence. Dressed like a fairy tale hunter, he has long tousled hair and sullen, chiseled features. I wonder if he’s an actor who’s strayed from a movie set? Or maybe a cosplayer searching for a buddy to slay?

As my muteness continues, he bristles with impatience, the dog snarling at his side as if I’ve stolen its dinner. Or maybe I am its dinner, and it can hardly wait to chow down.

“Can’t you control your dog?” If that’s what it is. “I can’t think straight with that noise.” I cover my ears, wishing I’d thought to play dead as soon as I woke up.

“Balor! Shut your trap.”

Instantly, silence descends. Not one single bird dares to chirp from the countless trees surrounding us. I must be in some kind of woods, and it’s way past time to get out of here.

“Where am I?” I ask, my chin thrusting out like I’m not scared of him.

“Ithalah Forest. Or to be precise, you’ve recently been reclining in Merrin Creek.”

Merrin Creek? As far as I know, there’s no water anywhere near Blackbrook.

“And what town are we in?”

“Do you mean whose territory?”

“I guess so,” I say, tremors racking through my body.

A haunting screech echoes in the distance.

The cosplayer’s hand suddenly flicks into the air like he’s about to catch a baseball. “Quiet,” he whispers.

Muscles tensed, head cocked, he listens and waits. As he stands there, it’s as if the whole world waits with him.

One second. Two. Three. Then with a quick one-shouldered shrug, his arm drops to his side.

Well that was strange. What stupid game is this guy playing at?

“You’re not very funny,” I say, too annoyed to worry about self-preservation.

He ignores me and scrutinizes the sky.

“Did you hear me?” I persist. “I don’t like your dumb game at all.”

The fear I awoke with has dissolved and been replaced by a simmering rage. If this guy and his dog are going to murder me, I wish they’d hurry up and get it over with rather than act out some childish, Shakespearean drama.

I glance away from his haughty smirk, otherwise I might leap up and punch it off his pretty face.

“Where are the rest of your players hiding?” I ask, trying to match my sneer to his.

“I cannot begin to guess what you mean. The land you crouch on is neutral. There are no other players as you call them.” He indicates the hill behind with a jerk of his head. “But south of the forest, well, that is an entirely different story.”

Well that is an entirely different story.

What a dedicated actor he is, his voice so crisp and dramatic. Next, he’ll tell me winter is coming and we need to battle the gray walkers, or the red riders, or whatever the blazes they’re called.

I’m sick of this ridiculous farce. “So, tell me, Jon Snow, who lives south of the forest, then? Is it Goldilocks and the three bears?”

He frowns. “I think not.” Then he seems to consider my statement seriously. “Certainly, within the forest bears do dwell, but the Southern lands belong to the Court of Merits. But you are partially correct in your guess, some of them do wear locks of gold.”

So does he.

Amazed at the cheek of this madman, I laugh. “The Court of Merits? How nice. And where are you from? The Court of Crackpots?”

His back stiffens, and his shoulders draw back. “You speak strangely for a wood goblin.”

“And I can’t make any sense of a word you say.”

His strange eyes narrow. “If you must know, my home is northward, at Talamh Cúig.”

That name rings a bell. “Wait… Talamh what?”

“You’ve never heard of the Land of Five? Indeed, my hound is one hundred times smarter than you.”

This guy is a jerk. But I’m not afraid of him anymore. Okay, so it’s a little crazy not to be terrified, but I don’t think he’ll hurt me. Annoy the crap out of me, yes, that’s a given. But I feel safe enough. At least for now.

As I squeeze water from my work uniform, tiny bells tinkle in my head then clang like a fire alarm. Hands stilling, I stare at his smug expression. “Hold up… you said the Land of Five, right?”

“Yes. Tis exactly what I said. You really aren’t the brightest goblin I’ve ever met.”

Nope. That’s just not possible. But then again… “The Land of Five?” I repeat, then force myself to scrutinize him properly.

From his gilded head to the tips of his muddy boots, my eyes inspect every inch. He wears finely stitched leather pants and chest armor. A heavy, dark cloak. Long sword and scabbard hang from narrow hips. That gold hair, glittering with celestial colors, can’t be real. Cliffed cheekbones, strong nose, a lushly curved mouth. And, finally, those irises of swirling metal.

I take in the surroundings.

Above us, purple clouds drift. A bird, unlike any I’ve seen before, darts through a dramatic slate-colored sky, its iridescent feathers trailing sparks behind it. Dragging my gaze from the skies, I consider the dog again, its hulking size, the eyes that glow fire-poker red, and reality boots me in the gut.

This guy may be a huntsman of sorts, but he’s not a cosplaying huntsman. He’s not even a human huntsman. As crazy as it sounds, I’m starting to think he’s a goddamn faery!

Oh, crap. I am in the deepest, darkest trouble. Right here and as solid as the wet ground I sit upon, is the dream that has plagued me my whole life.

It’s real.

He’s real.

I’m not in a hospital bed, doped up after a mugging attack, hallucinating a handsome boy dressed in fantasy costume. Nope. Instead, the improbable event my mother warned me about all those years ago has actually happened.

I’ve slipped and fallen.

And I am in Faery.

Gray trees, ghostly branches, and golden hair blur in my vision, my head spinning.

I cover my mouth, swallow bile, and the huntsman steps forward.

Closer. Then closer still.

Say hello to forever, the strange girls had said last night.

Say hello to forever, like an incantation. A curse.

And, now, here I am in Faery. Were those words a warning? Were they trying to tell me I’d be stuck here forever?

Blood rushes back to my brain, and I point at the hunter who stands there, statue-still. It’s unnatural. Horrible. Beautiful. “You’re fae!”

“Of course I am.”

I study him again—the princely bearing, each movement graceful and feline, his uncaring attitude—aloof as a Siamese cat. I thought he was just an enthusiastic role player, a good actor. But, no, he’s a living, breathing, sorrow-sucking, hard-hearted faery. A mythological creature and a definite threat to my existence.

“What else would I be?” he asks. Cloak blowing around his calves, he swaggers even closer. “And you are a goblin. That much is clear.”

“I’m not a goblin,” I say between gritted teeth.

“A gnome then,” he states with confidence.

“A gnome? Don’t be ridiculous! I’m a girl.”

“A fae? Of my own kind? No.” He plants a fist on his hip as he leans back dramatically. “It cannot be. From which court do you come?”

“I’m a human girl. Haven’t you seen one before?” I mimic his patronizing tone.

“What? A human?” The huntsman’s lips twist, and he bends forward to inspect me.

This close, I can see his pupils dilate. Cruel hands grip my clothes and raise me high. Heart pounding, my feet swing through the air, knocking against his legs. I’m held nose to nose by a wild creature who I pray isn’t feeling too hungry. Do fae eat people?

“Well, I confess I’m astonished,” he drawls. “The last time I saw one of you, I was a brawling boy. Are you quite sure you’re mortal and not a shaggy hobgoblin?”

“Oh, stop it,” I say, my anger boiling over again. “You know very well what I am.”

A gilded eyebrow rises, plush mouth quirking at me. His top lip is extra-pouty. It’s quite adorable, if you can forget what he is—a killing machine. Then his silver gaze intensifies as he studies me with reptilian focus. “Yes. Unfortunately for you—you are indeed human. I suppose that does account for the smell.”

With a dismissive grunt, his grip releases, and I crumple to the ground.

Brushing leaves off, I stumble to my feet. “What rubbish. I washed yesterday.”

I have no idea what I’m doing.

I should be asking sensible questions like—how the hell has this happened? And, how do I get out of here? But, no, here I am in Faery, captured by a cantankerous huntsman and his terrifying hound, both of whom probably want to gobble me up, and I’m shooting my mouth off like I’m itching for trouble. Fae-boy is right. I am an idiot.

“You may have washed at some point, but I would guess the event occurred many moons ago. Since you’ve fallen through a portal from the human realm, you’ve most likely been lying in the dirt an age. Hence your ripe aroma.”

Daftly, I sniff my armpit. “But that’s only a little sweat. And it’s completely normal to perspire after working hard all night long and—”

“Ah, so you’re a peasant just as I reckoned. A sweaty human-goblin peasant.”

“Stop saying goblin. And don’t you ever break into a sweat yourself, oh virile and mighty hunter? I hope you realize, dressed in that outfit, you look peasant-like yourself.”

That’s a lie. Covered in a sack made from sewn-together takeout bags, he’d still outshine any fashion model on a catwalk. His beauty is diamond-bright, razor-sharp, and yet somber and lonely as a grave.

“Virile…” he mutters to his boots. Brow creasing, he rubs his cloak’s embroidered edges between long fingers, lost in thoughts of who knows what.

“You’re filthy,” I say, pointing at his mud-splattered chest armor and the dark leather pants buttering his thighs.

With a sly smile, he flicks glowing eyes to my face. “In my land, huntsmen never raise a sweat.”

He says the word huntsmen like it’s hilarious and he’s holding back a snicker.

“I don’t understand what’s funny. Won’t you share the joke?”

“Joke?” He snorts. “Huntsmen, also, never jest.” Clouds shift overhead as he throws a glance over his shoulder. “Stand now and see if you can walk a little. We must leave here at once.”

The pony-sized dog curls its hairy lip at me. When did it creep so close? I shuffle away from its fangs.

“He won’t bite. Unless, of course, I suggest he does.”

“What kind of dog is he? He’s the biggest I’ve ever seen,” I say, trying for a casual tone. Maybe if I befriend the huntsman, he’ll help me get home.

Silver eyes narrow. A pointy black boot goes tap, tap, tap. “He’s a wolfhound. Well, his father was a gally-trot and about the same size as one of those bears you seem fond of. He was known to rip the heads from horses when provoked.”

“Good to know.”

He watches me shake filth from my clothes as I get to my feet. “You don’t seem hurt,” he comments sulkily, as though disappointed my leg isn’t hanging by a thread.

“No. I think I’m fine. Just hungry.” And wondering what on earth is going to become of me.

“Good, then you can ride.”

“I don’t know how to.”

He gives me a withering look. “Surely, you can sit atop a saddle.”

“I’m not sure. I’ve never tried.”

“If you’re quiet, I shall hold you on. If not, prepare for further bruises when I let you slide off.”

Brilliant.

A piercing whistle comes from his lips, and a black horse trots through the trees, then slows, picking its way down the slope to the edge of the creek.

It’s a beautiful animal. An ornate leather quiver, a sturdy bow, and heavy saddle bags are strapped to its side. Intelligent black eyes assess me as it nickers at fae-boy’s shoulder.

“Your horse?” I ask.

“No, that’s my donkey,” he quips, then flinches violently as his fingers press into his temple.

The sort-of-lie caused him pain, but somehow, he was able to push the words out of his mouth. So, I guess sarcasm is possible for a fae as long as the statement skirts close enough to the truth. I tuck that piece of information away for later.

In one fluid movement, he vaults into the saddle. “My horse’s name is Jinn.”

“And yours is?”

“Never mind.” He presents his hand, extending calloused fingers toward me. “Come. Alight.”

“Nevermind is an unusual name. In case you’re interested, mine is Lara.”

He rolls his eyes. “I’m not.”

The eye roll is an odd gesture for one so haughty, and it makes me wonder how old he is. Beautiful, and with skin as smooth as glass, he could be aged anywhere from twenty years to twenty thousand.

“Take my hand, human called Lara, and mount the horse.”

“Wait. First, tell me where you’re going?”

“We are heading north to my home, to Talamh Cúig.”

“Please. Just give me a minute to think this through. Do you have any idea how I got here? Did you make this happen somehow?”

Throwing his head back, he actually laughs, and it sends hot shivers cascading down my spine.

“Summoning you here would be the very last thing I’d do. I’d rather eat dragon scale stew—with carrots in it.”

The horse snorts, then whinnies.

“Okay, fair enough. I believe you. But does it happen often? Humans appearing out of nowhere, I mean.”

“At times. But there are other worlds where it’s a frequent occurrence.” The huntsman sighs, and then makes a clicking sound. The horse circles around me. “But here? No, it doesn’t happen often.”

“Where are you going now? Are you leaving me here?”

“Sadly, no. Any moment, I’m going to dismount, toss you across my saddle, and tie you to it. And if you continue to prattle, I may also gag you.”

“Don’t do that. Please just give me another minute to think.” As I pace, treading over a thick carpet of leaves, Balor trails at my heels. I really wish he wouldn’t.

“Let me consider my options, Nevermind, the huntsman who neither sweats nor jokes.”

He laughs, and it sounds wild and unhinged. “Allow me to present them to you.” The saddle creaks as he leans threateningly toward me. “First option: you may journey to my home and let my people pronounce your fate. It’s only fair to mention we don’t care much for your kind.”

“Then that doesn’t sound like a great choice—”

“Alternatively, you can stay here and be eaten by your famous bears. Hurry and decide which option suits your mood, for I am in a hurry.”

The urge to punch him boils inside me. Best if I don’t, though.

Time to appeal to his better nature—if he has one—with the truth.

Wringing my hands, I take a deep breath. “To be honest, I don’t know if I can trust you. And all I want is to go home as soon as possible.”

“A sensible concern and a valid desire. Perhaps I’ve underestimated your intelligence.”

There he goes again with the sarcasm.

“Please, Never, do you have any idea how I can get out of this place?”

He huffs loudly, and the wind lifts and slashes through the trees. Balor howls. “For Dana’s sake, human, the same way you came, of course—through a portal.”

“Well, where is this portal?”

“Which one do you speak of? There are many.”

“The one that leads back to the human world, silly, you know—modern Earth? A place filled with cities and skyscrapers and—”

“Oh, hush. Do not speak to me of such tedious things.” He adjusts his sword belt, then thuds his palm against his thigh. “How you bore me, human. If you have any sense, you will mount my steed this minute.”

Violet-gray clouds roil above us, thunder rumbling in the distance. He gives the sky a scorching glance, then spears a large hand toward me, leaving it upturned in a graceful shape between us, like a peace offering. But I know better; it’s a demand.

“Enough nonsense. I have already shown you great forbearance. If it weren’t for my court’s right and duty to assess all intruders to these parts, I would have long ago dealt with you myself. Quickly. And simply.”

The horror of what he means—that if he weren’t abiding by some strict court rule, I’d already be dead—shudders through me.

Still, I don’t have the sense to cower in fear. As I fold my arms and open my mouth, about to badger him with further questions, the chilly breeze picks up, and he goes still as if he’s had a sudden realization.

Oh, oh.

“Am I mistaken, or did you insult me before?” he asks.

My heart thuds.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

“Um.” I scratch my head. “Insult you?”

“I believe you called me silly. I was angered by your talk of technology, and your insolence almost slipped by. But now I remember.”

He snaps his fingers and, suddenly, I can’t draw air in. My hair lifts and weaves above my head, and all I can do in response is gape and choke and convulse. With dawning horror, I realize I’m suffocating, and the beautiful fae huntsman is somehow making it happen.

With a steely gaze fixed on me and two fingers drawing lazy patterns in the air, he’s sucking my lungs dry.

My jaw cracks, and one side of his lips lifts in a mean smile. Chest exploding, my vision tunnels to a pinpoint. This is it. I’m going to die.

Aunt Clare, I’m sorry I didn’t go to college like you wanted me to. Thank you for caring for me all these years. Thank you for everything. I love you, Isla. Joe. And even you, Max. I love you all.

Five.

Four.

Three.

Two.

Then air whooshes back into my lungs, and I drop to the ground, tears painting my cheeks.

“You nearly killed me,” I shout, gulping air.

He laughs. The prick actually laughs.

“Think yourself lucky that I did not.”

“Why would you do that?”

“Why not? Shut up and get on the horse, and I’ll try not to kill you again until after your audience with the queen. And there’s no point running, human-girl. Should I wish to, I can finish you with a flick of my hand.”

His smile is brilliant and proud, and completely devoid of empathy. In an instant, all of Mom’s artworks come rushing back. The strange, jewel-colored lands. The seductive beings with cold, cruel eyes. Her warning.

And this arrogant, psychotic huntsman, who I’ve come to think of as Never, looks exactly like the boys in her paintings. Which means my mother has most definitely been here. And this place must be Ella’s Land of Five.

Think, Lara. Think.

To him, I’m an annoying burden. He doesn’t care if I live or die. How can I change that?

Mom once said fae folk love a lark. So, quickly, I need to make a game of my presence. I could sing for him. I could… wait… I have an idea.

“Fine,” I say, tucking strands of hair behind my ears. “I promise to travel with you without fuss for a simple trade.”

His eyes light up. “A trade? But what need do I have for a bargain when I can make you do my bidding?”

“But that’s boring! Why would you want to do that? You must be worried I can make a better deal than you. That’s why you hesitate.”

“Ha! You are amusing, little Lara.”

“How long is the journey to your court?”

“It is but two nights and two days.”

“Okay. Then all I want are the answers to three questions. That’s it. Give them to me, and I promise not to try and escape. Not even once.”

Languidly, he strokes his bottom lip. “So, I could leave you on a log, go fishing for several hours, and find you waiting there when I return?”

“Yes. It’ll make life easy for you. You’ll barely have to bother about me. You can relax. And if I go back on my word, make me lick your boots for seven years straight. Or turn me into something amusing.”

“How about a steaming troll’s turd who sings at every full moon?”

Does he know I can sing? I shrug like I don’t care what he does to me. “If you like, sure.”

“I admit it’s an appealing idea.” He gives me a weary look that makes me fear he’s already lost interest. “Fine. Go ahead and make your vow. I will listen and may even choose to accept.”

Right. Now comes the hard part. I must select my words with care. The plan I’ve hatched requires a loophole in my vow.

Standing tall in my battered coat, purple waitress’s uniform, and ripped jeans, I don’t allow myself to think about how this dick just tried to kill me. Or what might happen on the way to his court… or when we arrive.

I smooth the hate from my expression and meet his stony gaze. “If you answer my following three questions truthfully, I vow I won’t try to get away from you for the next two nights and the next two days. If you allow it, for that period, I’ll stay by your side. And if I don’t, you can do whatever you want to me.”

“As I already pointed out, I don’t require a bargain to do whatever I want to you.” The smile he gives me is strange, smug but knowing. I wonder if he’s guessed what I’m up to and, like a typical fae, can’t resist the sport anyway.

Because, clever old me, with the way I’ve worded our bargain, all I need to do is stall our travels to be free of my promise. If the journey takes longer than two nights and two days, by then he’ll be used to my obedience, have forgotten the exact words of my vow and grown careless. Then I can sneak away, find a portal, and go home.

Yeah. The finding a portal part might be problematic. Anyway, if he agrees, I’ll have earned myself a possible means of ditching him. And what happens after that, well, that’s anyone’s guess.

He twists a red and gold ring around his finger, then smiles unpleasantly. “I accept. The bargain is struck.”

Jinn whinnies and Balor growls.

Maneuvering the restless horse closer, the huntsman laughs.

Foreboding seeps into my belly, and I incline my head calmly, like I negotiate with fae huntsmen on a regular basis.

“Ask your questions, human, then we ride.”

With another head dip, I say, “The first question is this: what did you do before to stop me from breathing?”

“Simple—air is mine. I am air. I withdrew myself, that is all.”

“Magic, then?”

“Yes. Is that your second question?”

“No. Question number two is: where is the nearest portal?”

I get the eye roll again. “I have no idea.”

Damn.

“Last question, then: I think you must be an Elemental fae. Is that true?”

His brows lift, and Jinn stomps the ground. “How would a mere mortal know that?”

That’s a yes, then.

Now probably isn’t the best time to mention my mother. “I met someone back in my world who painted your pictures on computers and told your stories.”

“Computers—more tedious things. Telling our stories is forbidden. Give me the name of this technology-loving human, and I will see to them.”

“I won’t.”

He stills, a snake readying to strike, and goosebumps creep over my skin.

“Well, not right now, but I might tell you at some point along our journey,” I back-pedal slightly. “That is, if you want to make another bargain or you’re really nice to me.”

Silver eyes flash as his torso bends quickly. Cool fingers wrap around my throat, and he says, “Do not test me, mortal. You remind me of a gyendad, a buzzing insect covered in spots, noisy, and most irritating. But hear this, freckled wasp—I would sooner squash you than consider earning your favor.”

That’s a very unfair statement; I don’t have that many freckles.

“You must belong to the Unseelie court, then,” I wheeze.

A sharp nail scratches my neck as his grip slowly loosens. “What gives you that idea?”

“Well, since you’re a foul-tempered, murderous bully, it seems the logical choice.”

I brace for pain, but he only smiles, slightly elongated incisors scraping over his bottom lip. “You are wrong. Elementals are of the bright court. We are Seelie.”

My muscles loosen in relief. “That’s great. So, you might help me, then?”

“And why should I do that?”

“Well, aren’t you Seelie faeries the good guys? You’re not plotting to end the human race or become our evil overlords, are you?”

Eyes flashing from silver to a fiery blue, his jagged laugh cuts through the air. “Like a wasp’s, your memory is short. Shall I remind you what the pain of collapsing lungs feels like?”

Thunder cracks the sky open, and his arm shoots out. “For the last time, take my hand, human, and alight before I decide to throw you in the creek as a treat for the Bean Fionn.”

“What’s a… a Bean Fionn?”

“Best you do not know. Come, Wasp. Jinn is a gentle beast. I can promise he won’t harm you.”

“And what about you?”

“I can promise I might not. Do you wish to offer something more as incentive to keep you well?”

“Unfortunately, there’s no point. If I had anything of interest to you, you’d probably already have taken it,” I grumble.

“Finally, you speak sense. Now give me your hand and mount.”

Cool skin slides against mine, and I vault through the air, landing sideways in his lap. The bridle jingles a happy tune as the huntsman yanks my leg until I’m straddling the horse, and then drags my hips deeper into the cradle of his own.

His heat enveloping me, he takes up the reins and digs his thighs into horseflesh and girl flesh alike. Jinn trots forward like a show pony, making me bounce up and down.

“Balor, come!” the fae commands.

The wolfhound barks in reply, long legs bounding to keep up with the horse.

I squeak and yelp, trying not to slip off. A wild scent—oiled leather and musk overlain with the crispness of a mountain breeze—melts my brain. The obnoxious huntsman smells like a storm, and it unravels me.

This heady weakness won’t do at all.

With difficulty, I summon a frigid tone. “So why am I practically sitting in your lap? Shouldn’t I be behind you like the movies I’ve seen when a girl gets stolen away?”

“Movies? Is that a roving carnival? If you sit behind me, you’ll find yourself atop my bow. Maybe you’d prefer the discomfort. And I did not steal you. In my land, when a person finds something, it instantly becomes theirs, to do with as they will.”

“Fae like to consider themselves people, do they?”

And humans—things.

“What do you think we should call ourselves instead? Ogres or giant squids?”

“Reptiles might work.”

His muscles tense, the hard edge of his arm bracer digging into my stomach. “You are not amusing, human.”

“Maybe not to you, but I sometimes make my friends laugh.”

He snorts. “You have those? This is surprising news.”

I bite back a retort and gawk at the eerie forest we’re slowly weaving through.

Our pace has slowed, and as Jinn follows the creek’s bank, he ambles around trees, their ashen trunks and branches gnarled and twisted like they’re frozen in a dance of agony.

The light is diffused and gloomy but every now and again, bright jewel-colors peek through the gray—a rosy-red mushroom cluster here, a bright-green fern unfurling there. Damp mist curls around our legs, the hems of our clothes sodden.

In the distance, wild creatures call to each other—birds, wolves, and other unimaginable beasts—turning to unnatural quiet as we pass. The animals are afraid of the hunter.

The silvery Ithalah forest is beautiful, but solemn and sad, not a place in which I’d want to spend time alone.

Breaking the long silence, I ask, “Why is it so dismal here? I pictured a lot more flash and dazzle in Faery.”

“The Emerald Keep is different. There you’ll see such color and sparkle, you’ll wish your eyes blindfolded for respite. More so when I’m not present. Out here it’s…”

He trails off, unwilling to finish explaining.

“Out here is what?”

Dark and bitter, his voice drops low. “It’s me. Away from Talamh Cúig, from the people of the castle, there’s nothing to dilute the strength of my moods. Out here in the wilds, my blackness seeps into everything.”

“Huh. That must be depressing for you.”

The huntsman’s harsh breathing warms the top of my head, his solid chest pumping faster as the sky darkens and rumbles. He’s angry. Maybe I’d better change the subject.

“So, are you going to tell me your name?”

He sighs. “It’s Everend. And if you must use it, call me Ever. Most of the Folk do.”

“Really? Your name’s Ever? Well, if you pop an N in front of that, the name suits you perfectly. Never. That’s what I’ll call you.”

He grunts. “If you insist. Now be quiet again. You disturb my thinking.”

We’re heading west, so I point at the rays of dull light glowing through the trees. “Try brooding on something pleasant for once, then maybe we’ll see a little sunshine before the sun sets.”

“I never muse on pleasant subjects.”

“That’s a mistake. Don’t you want to know why I’m going to call you Never?”

An animal’s cry echoes in the distance, but the hunter stays silent.

“I’ll tell you anyway, because I’m sure deep down you’re dying to know.”

He grunts again.

“Never is a good name for you, because if I could help it, I’d prefer never to call you anything. I wish I’d never met you and that I was never found and stolen away by you and your scary dog, and I wish—”

“Your point is made, mortal, as stupid and vapid as it is. I am Never to you and Ever to all else. I care not. Now be quiet.”

“Are there many huntsmen in the Land of Five? Are you an official one, like in special service of the king or something?”

“I am in the service of no king. I hunt whenever I want, for whatever I desire.”

“I see. Tell me about your king and queen. What are they like? What are their names?”

A brilliant flash of lightning illuminates the forest, thunder quaking the earth a second later.

Balor barks and Jinn’s sides shiver.

“Enough talk,” he growls.

“Okay. Okay. Calm down.”

When I left work last night, I couldn’t have guessed I’d be traveling through a gray dusk, my butt bouncing against a faery who seems to have control of the weather and has just claimed me as his possession.

Does he have to hold me so close? Desperate to get space between us, I shuffle in the saddle, and Jinn jigs sideways.

“Stay still. You’re frightening the horse.”

“But I’m going to fall off!”

“As long as I hold you in place, you won’t.”

That’s hardly comforting. At any moment, he’s likely to let me tumble to my death.

“Can you not feel my arm securing you?”

I can, and I don’t like it one bit. I grimace down at the leather-covered forearm braced firmly against my stomach.

Shivering, I point out the silver ball sinking behind the treetops. “Look, the sun’s nearly gone. When do we stop riding?”

“We stop when I say it is time. Are you cold?”

“Yes. That wind… it’s icy.”

He gusts a harsh breath against my hair, snaps a hand in the air, and the breeze disappears.

“Did you just make the wind vanish by clicking your fingers?” I ask.

“Sometimes, all I need to do is think it and the winds obey.”

“How does that work? Do all your people have the same powers?” I ask, not happy about being trapped this close to someone who can command the elements at will.

Another sigh from my captor. “Still your tongue and things will go better for you.”

“But can’t you at least tell me if you’re planning to stop and sleep tonight? I’m hungry and tired and—”

“Silence.”

Even icier than before, the wind rages, tugging my clothes and gnawing at my flesh.

“Once again, you try my patience, Wasp. I’ve had enough of you. So, I will give you three rules, and you must obey them.”

My teeth chatter as my extremities turn numb. “Okay. I’m listening.”

“Good, because I’ll only tell you one time: Honor your vow. Stay still. And don’t speak unless I command it.”

“That sounds simple. It should be easy enough to follow.”

The wind whips faster, and for a brief moment, my lungs collapse and I can’t breathe. “Alright! Alright. I promise I’ll do my best to follow your rules.”

The mini tornado instantly disappears, and I blink back tears of frustration.

I hate this fae jerk, and the first chance I get, I’m going to show him how much. For the moment, though, I’m powerless against his stupid air magic, his body’s strength.

However, he does seem very keen to shut me up, so perhaps I do have a weapon I can use against him—my voice.

I’ll try and talk him to death.