Page 9 of Forgiving a Fae Warrior

When he peeked his eyes open again, Sylvie smiled up at him. “You’d do the same for me.”

He would. That and so much more. He’d give his life for hers if the situation called for it.

“I’m so thankful for what you’ve done, but you should—”

“No,” she interjected. “Let me stop you there.”

Once again she had him on his heels and standing a little straighter.

“I’m staying. For the moment, anyway. So why not save yourself some trouble and just be grateful?”

Galen ran a hand down his face. There was no arguing with her when she set her mind to something. Fine. He’d drop it for now, but that didn’t mean he was comfortable with the risks she took. Far from it.

“I am grateful,” he said at last. “More than words.”

“Good.” She nodded, leaving no doubt the matter was closed, at least in her mind.

“So…” he started, settling on the floor, the bag between them. “How did you find me out here?” True, he’d taken few measures to hide his trail, especially at first. Honestly, he’d done little more than put one foot in front of the other on an aimless quest until he spied the ruins. Then, he’d approached with caution lest he stumbled upon wild creatures, or worse, Unseelie.

“It wasn’t too hard to follow your scent. After all, there aren’t many Seelie out here. Plus”—she pulled a necklace from within her shirt—“I had a little help.” A hint of color touched her cheeks as she held it up, a golden leaf—twin to the one on his earring—dangling from its length.

She’d used its magic to find him. He should have known. Warmth stirred in his chest, and he fought the urge to rub at it. The leaves were a pair bound as one, enchanted so that the owner of one could always touch it and feel a pull toward its other half. Sylvie had given him one, not a year past and kept the other for herself. It was his most valuable possession, his treasure, one he wore at all times.

“Anyhow,” she said, tucking the necklace away and glancing at nothing to the side, her cheeks still flushed, “I saw which direction you went, so that helped, too. But first, I shifted home and gathered a few things I thought you might need.”

And to give the others time to disburse, no doubt. If anyone had seen her or knew what she planned, surely they would have tried to stop her—brave, reckless woman.

Sylvie tugged open the ties on the bag, letting the opening fall slack. The sword slid toward him. Its weight nudged the top further open, revealing some of the items inside.

“It’s not much.” She gestured to the pack. “Just some simple food, water, a change of clothes.”

Galen reached for the sword, his fingertips ghosting over the hilt.

“Oh, that.” Sylvie tucked some hair behind her ears and refused to quite look at him. “After everything that happened with Lia, I, um…took a few things from your room that I…hoped you might need again someday. They sent the rest of your things to your parents, I believe.” She winced, looking back at them. “Sorry for that.”

Galen’s father had sent a brief letter not long after he’d arrived in the Court of Air. The man had been proud of him—proudthat he’d betrayed the King of the Forest. The thought of that note—one he’d quickly burned—still left a bitterness at the back of his throat he never could cleanse. By right, he should report his father, though he hadn’t actively worked against the Forest in some time, and Galen was fairly sure Riven knew of his father’s true loyalties yet let him remain in his territory anyway. Whether his parents had received his things, they didn’t say, but his Father had given him leave of a family home and funds they still possessed in the Court of Air, things he accepted only because he needed them.

“Thank you. This means a lot to me,” he said, trying to block out all thoughts of his treasonous father and his quiet mother, who always seemed to look the other way where her husband’s dealings were concerned.

“I knew how much you liked that blade,” Sylvie replied.

Galen shook his head. “Not just the sword. Thinking of me then after what I’d done then, being here now… I don’t deserve it.” He hung his head, unable to quite look at her.

“You do,” she said softly. “Lia told me that Sigurd had an oath from you and that you didn’t want to do it. Besides, I know you. Deep in my heart, I knew you wouldn’t do such a thing without reason. Though, I wish you’d just come back once you could and not dragged Wren into it.” She leaned back, her palms flat on the floor, staring at him as if she were trying to work out a puzzle.

Me too.“I didn’t think anyone would listen unless I brought some kind of proof of my loyalty.”

“You doubt us so much?”

Dim light filtered through the doorway and cracks in the structure, but it was more than enough for him to see her clearly, to make out every shape and shadow of her form. Sylvie looked the same as he remembered, his petite warrior with her shimmering hair that liked to escape its ties and curl around her ears. Her eyes still held that sparkle of mirth and wonder, even on such a dark and desperate day. She didn’t hate him. Didn’t doubt him. That alone had a tingling of desire racing under his skin.

Still, he'd never felt more a fool than he did today. Galen had been so certain of a cold reception, perhaps a deadly one. That Sylvie would believe him even after what he’d done, that she would put herself at risk to help him, was such a rare and wondrous thing that he hadn’t let himself believe it possible. That kind of hope, if crushed, could destroy him.

“I had no idea it’d be you who found me first,” he replied, refusing to speak the truth that hehaddoubted, even if it was done in defense of his heart. “Not everyone would be so lenient.”

“No.” Her gaze dropped to the floor. “I suppose not. It was pure luck that I did. Fate.” She reached for her shirt, bunching up the material where he guessed the necklace rested below. “I’d been out on patrol, keeping busy, and you happened to pop to mind. So, I touched the necklace. One moment the pull was so faint, just like it had been since you’d been gone, and then, suddenly, it wasn’t. It was so close to me.” A smile stretched across her lips as she gazed back up at him and pushed another wayward lock of hair behind her ear. “I thought it might be a trick or some fault in the necklace, but I shifted toward it, and there you were.”

“There I was,” he echoed. He could still scarcely believe it himself. Fate had been on his side in that, perhaps, though it had turned around and damned him with the loss of Wren.

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