Chapter 18

We both rode upon Ronan's horse--Nea-- as we left the Inn.

I watched the silvery form of Trahern gallop alongside us trying to ignore Ronan's overheated body at my back. No matter how much I tried to scoot myself forward, I couldn't escape Ronan in the small space atop the saddle. His arms stretched around me, holding the reins in a loose grip. Ronan's horse was so in tune with him that he barely had to steer.

I leaned forward what little I could, trying to ignore the flush growing at my cheeks. It was hard to forget how he had looked when he returned after his shower that morning, cleaned of the blood stain in a fresh tunic and trousers. His loose dark curls had hung damply around his face framing his sharp features, now softened by the morning light.

Ronan's chest brushed my back and he lowered himself closer to the horse, urging it to move faster while Trahern started to struggle to keep up. I became acutely aware that not only did Ronan look even better after bathing, but he smelled much better too.

Gone was the scent of blood and sweat, leaving behind a woodsy smell intermingled with a trace of mint. With nothing but the warmth of him at my back and the smell of him overwhelming me—along with the almost boyish way he raced with Trahern...

He seemed less frightening.

I wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

Eventually, we lost Trahern, leaving the phooka behind us. Only Trahern had come out to bid us farewell, attempting one last time to convince Ronan to let him have me. Trahern was oddly fascinated with me, and I couldn't help but feel relieved that Ronan did not cave.

Even if that only made me more curious about Ronan himself. It was hard to read him, his expression varying between angry and intimidating to mischievous and sinister. But what that all meant about what was going on inside his mind was a mystery to me.

"Why didn't you get me my own horse?" I asked once we had settled into a steady pace. As I watched the trees whip by us, I couldn't shake the disorienting feeling that when I looked down at Nea, he was moving much slower than we were really going. It appeared that he was only moving along at a leisurely trot, his strong legs able to move us faster than any human horse could.

I was quite certain Nea was not ordinary.

Ronan was silent for a long moment, and I figured he was either ignoring me like he had been before, or simply did not wish to speak with me. I sighed, wondering how I was going to figure out anything important to get myself out of there if he wouldn't even talk. Right now he was my only source of information, and I needed more than what I had learned so far.

Though I doubted he would ever help me leave Faerie, perhaps he knew something that could help.

"We don't need another horse when we have Nea," Ronan said finally, startling me for how close his voice was to my ear. The tone of it resounded deep and smooth, sending a chill across my skin.

I turned my head to try to look back at his face, but he wasn't looking at me. His red eyes turned a bright shade of tangerine as the sunlight caught on them. Ronan narrowed them, as if they were particularly sensitive to the light.

Interesting.

"Well, then you wouldn't have to share with me. It must be hard for him to carry both of us," I reasoned. Mostly, I just didn't feel comfortable with Ronan pressed up against my back.

Plus, with another horse, maybe I could stand a chance at escaping, not that I voiced that thought out loud. Even I knew having my own horse wouldn't help my odds much. Still, it would be an improvement over having my captor's body acting as my cage.

"Another horse would just slow us down. I have been away too long already. Besides, you don't weigh much, Nea can barely tell you are there."

I turned away from Ronan and looked out to the trees. They moved by us so fast that I felt more  like I was on a plane preparing to lift off. Any minute now we could take flight, and I wasn't sure I'd even be surprised. Perhaps another, normal horse, would indeed slow us down.

"What if it was another horse like Nea—"

Ronan laughed, the sound so alien and unexpected that I stopped talking in surprise. I looked back at him, to see his red eyes glimmer with amusement as he looked down at me, a knowing smirk curving his full mouth.

"There are no other horses like Nea, at least not out here. He is a Firyan Horse, and an exceptional one. Now please, stop with this nonsense before you offend him more."

I looked down at Nea, wondering about Firya, the creatures that would be there, and what other strange fae I might encounter on the way. I wanted so desperately to go home, and get away from Faerie and everything to do with it. Still, I couldn't help but look through my options and feel hopeless. I was never good at waiting and thinking things through. Getting out of this would require patience, which I had to find somewhere inside of myself no matter how hard that would be.

The more I thought about it, the more frantic I felt.

I clenched my fists and gazed ahead, watching as we moved deeper into the trees, the ground starting to incline under Nea's feet.

As we moved through the forest, Ronan and I lapsed into a long silence. Occasionally, something would catch out of the corner of my eye—a strange glimmer of light as it caught on iridescent butterfly wings, or a pair of eyes gazing at me from the trunks of the trees as we weaved our way through.

Spindly hands reached out, never quite able to catch us as Nea sped through the rest of the Whispering Forest. I tried not to pay them much mind, but every tree I looked at seemed so alive with an intelligent mind of its own.

Eventually, the light started to wan, the traces of the bright Faerie sun melting away into an orange and pink sunset. The trees overhead began to thin, and the ground beneath Ea's feet grew rocky. The air grew colder, iciness taking it over until I was hugging myself, freezing in nothing but a tunic and trousers.

By the time night fell, we had reached the base of tall, rocky, grey mountains.

Nea kept going, his speed unnatural, his endurance even more so. Without slowing his pace, Nea started up the side of the mountain. He followed a narrow path that curved around it, taking us higher and higher. In time, the air grew so cold; I was almost grateful to have Ronan's unearthly heat at my back.

It was sometime later, the deep of night starting to lighten into a pale lilac-hued sky, that Ronan brought Nea to a stop. There he finally started to go about setting up a small camp. We were set up on the rocky ledge positioned along the side of the mountain. I was thankful for the large stones which shielded us from the icy wind. It seemed all too eager to embrace me with its frosty hands.

I peered out over its edge, the cold air drifting past us. Down below all I could see was darkness, the shadows of night still lingering. If I fell, it would be a long way to my very mortal death. I recoiled, moving deeper into the safety of the ledge.

I huddled in a corner, trying to create some warmth for myself. A part of me almost missed how warm Ronan had been as I shivered.

Ronan first tended to Nea, giving the horse some food and water, then a pat down. He didn't even bother to tie him up, and the dark beast settled himself in a corner opposite me. Nea eyed me in a way that seemed far too intelligent for my liking, and he bared his teeth threateningly as my eyes met his.

What puzzled—and also deeply concerned me, was how Ronan still hadn't built a fire. The chill in the air sunk deeper under my skin with every passing moment.

It was not until Ronan threw me a well-used-looking bedroll and sat down on the ground a few steps away from me—close, but not too close—that I felt the bottled-up questions spill from inside me where I had been keeping them contained all day.

"Aren't you going to set up a fire?"

Ronan didn't reply right away, opening up another one of his bags—this one he had brought with him over from Nea, and was smaller. He pulled out a small flask. It was brown and looked to be made of animal skin. He uncorked it and tilted his head back, taking a long swig. I frowned at him, and the silence was only broken up by the way he hissed quietly under his breath as the alcohol burned its way down his throat.

I watched him with a mixture of fear and lingering trepidation. The early rays of sunlight were filling the air, glinting off his dark-black claws as he clenched his flask. Ronan took another long swig of whatever was in the container before he corked it and buried it back in his bag.

"Fires are unsafe even during the day here in The Greys." He dug into his bag, pulling out a rolled-up blanket.

"Here," he added, handing me a hard piece of bread and a wrapped-up piece of what looked like cheese—I wasn't really sure. I just barely caught the small meal in my numb fingers. "You'll likely need it more than me, being human."

I looked at the food and then at the bedroll he had offered me. For a moment, hunger won out over my curiosity and I devoured the rationed food. It had almost been a full day since I had anything to eat.

Ronan was looking off into the distance, beyond the rocky ledge, his position giving him a less sheltered view. Even without his eyes on me, I still felt like I was being watched.

"You did not pack like someone meaning to bring back a wife," I stated. This time my question was from a place of contemplation rather than contempt.

Ronan sighed and shot me a crimson-tinged look from the corner of his eye. He settled his head back against the rocky side of the mountain he was propped against. He looked tired, his gaze heavy as he looked ahead.

"You talk too much. Is it a human thing?"

I bristled, but I was too cold to rile myself up beyond a glare. "You can't blame me for wanting to know my husband better."

His lips curved into the ghost of a smile. Ronan might not have been able to lie, but he'd caught my bluff.

"Annoy me, is more like it."

I blinked. Either I was mistaken, or I had detected a sliver of something playful in his tone. I shook my head. That wasn't possible.

"You haven't answered the question," I pressed.

The grin that had lingered around his lips slipped aside, and he looked back over the mountain ledge.

"Firya is on the opposite side of the Night Court territory. The Whispering Forest—where the Hunt was, is on neutral ground. The most direct route would be to pass through the Whispering Forest into the Dead Forest, but even without you slowing Nea and I down, that would be a perilous journey in itself. Therefore we are taking the longer route up through the Ashthorne Mountains, and down along the border of Vinmire until we reach the Sand Sea."

He paused to take another long gulp from his flask, then continued, "From there it will be easy. But before that, we must be careful and travel quickly. We must pack light. I brought only what was needed."

I watched him, trying to detect a hole where a half-truth might be. I knew he was still being evasive, but that was overshadowed by the names and places he was referring to. I could tell they were places in Faerie—or rather the Night Courts, or so he called them

"How long, exactly, will this whole journey take us?" Even on Nea, I had a feeling this was no short journey. I was also further convinced that if I tried to make a run for it, I would be dead in seconds. There were places that even Ronan feared to pass through, including these mountains. And this was the safer route.

"A few weeks, three... maybe four. Depends on how much you hold us back." Ronan shifted, positioning himself on the hard stone ground, propping his clawed hands behind his head.

"Now, I recommend you get some sleep. We need to get going again in a few hours, and it is another thing I know you need more than Nea and me. Don't waste any more time, human."

I lowered my head, feeling slightly embarrassed. Yet, again, if I was holding him back it was of little consequence to me.

"I have a name, you know," I replied. "It's Heather." I had already told him it, and being called 'human' was tiring.

"Quiet—" he said, cutting me off sharply. "I recommend you don't say anything else. Or you will be sorry for it." His eyes darted around the small campsite searching the last few shadows that remained. "You never know who might be listening."

I jerked back as if slapped, but I pressed my lips together.

He was right. I shouldn't just be yelling my name out for all to hear when I didn't know where I was. Heather may not be my full true name as the priestess had said, but it was halfway there.

Ronan turned over, blocking his face from view. His arms were still bare, despite the cold seeping in around us and up through the rocky ground. The wind whistled through the mountains. After a long moment, I sighed and used the bedroll to huddle into a small ball, the blanket not doing near enough to block out the cold.

As I was about to fall into a fitful, too short slumber, I remembered another conversation with my Gran about the fae and names.

"Be careful out here, walking here and there. The fae will often pose as an old woman such as I, or other trustworthy folks, such as a postman. They will wrap you up in a seemingly innocent conversation and trick you into giving 'em your name. They will magic such as glamour to fool your mortal eyes."

I had been confused at the time. Why would a faerie go through so much trouble to do such a thing?

"Why would they want that?"

Her blue eyes had turned solemn, and she had patted me on the head. "The fae are a tricky bunch, and one thing they seek most from us is our name. With a name, the fair folk can do all sorts of heinous things to you, taking over your mind being one of them. It is stronger than any other magic to them, and you best not be giving out your name to anyone unless they are trustworthy. You hear?"

I opened my eyes and regarded Ronan. Ronan knew my name—my true name—but he still hadn't used it. My mind felt like it was fully mine. The thoughts and my fears in my head my own. If he'd wanted to manipulate me, I felt like I wouldn't have the same doubts I was having.

I didn't trust him, but maybe he wasn't as terrible as I had thought he was, either.