Page 128 of Curse the Fae

We move from The Twisted Canals to the same walkway where I’d once trailed Elixir in The Fauna Tides. The extension is remote enough for us to speak freely. A draft rustles the remaining bulrushes lining the planks. Banked in lantern light, we stand together, worn but unwilling to forfeit our plans.

Puck folds his arms over his torn leather vest and regards me. “You know, I admire you, to the point of jealousy.”

“This should be interesting,” Cerulean says with his profile casually propped between his thumb and index finger.

“And educational,” Juniper adds blandly.

“The way you wooed this fucker.” The satyr clicks his head toward Elixir, and the pair of leaf earrings looped through Puck’s earlobes jingle. “Killing the water lord with kindness, so he never saw it coming. Your knack for altruism even lured some of the river Fae to your side. That’s a whole new level of badassery.”

While Elixir glowers toward his brother, I laugh. “Thank you.”

“A merry pleasure.”

“Where do we go from here?” Lark asks while combing her fingers through her matted white hair. “If this happened to the river, there’s no telling what’ll happen next in the mountain or forest.”

“We continue to repair The Deep while monitoring our own terrains,” Cerulean provides, his voice as swift as a breeze. “In addition to a dozen other crucial, considerable, confounding tasks.”

“Such as potential war,” Puck drawls in his Fae accent. “Saving our world, that sort of shit.”

“But first we recruit allies,” Juniper lists while counting off her fingers. “All the while, researching how to end mortal sacrifices, in addition to the historic strife between humans and Faeries.”

“Finding this ‘second way’ you spoke of,” Elixir interprets. “The alternative you discovered in a Fable.”

Juniper gives a brisk nod. “Restoration, recruits, and research. And if necessary, self-defense. In that order.”

“We’ll need a middle ground,” I say. “A safe place to rendezvous, possibly a stronghold.”

“We’ve been meeting at my home in The Fauna Tower,” Cerulean says. “The elevation and panoramic view give us an advantage against invasion. Though, there’s always The Congress of Ravens.”

“What the fuck?” Lark blurts out, amazed. “There’s a Congress of Ravens?”

Cerulean smirks, his blue eyes glinting. “The sky is infinite, and The Solitary Mountain is vast, with ranges unfrequented and peaks not yet explored. It’s close to The Flight of Kestrels.”

“There’s a Flight of Kestrels?!”

A teasing grin slants his dark lips. “Oops. Dear me, did I also forget to mention The Crown of Kingfishers?”

Lark smacks his arm. “You are sooooo taking me to these places. Are there hidden corners to get frisky, too?”

“Does it need to be designated?” Cerulean’s voice dips to a hum. “Rest assured, I can fuck you anywhere.”

I force out a cough and peek at Elixir, my cheeks blazing. We haven’t spoken since I broke the curse. “Are there more caverns in The Deep we haven’t reached?”

He turns my way, his irises liquid gold—molten and piercing. “The underground is nearly as infinite as the sky. The places we sought are only the beginning.”

“Ah, ah, ah,” Puck says, breaking our trance by wagging his finger at Juniper, who’s scowling at him in silent accusation. “Trust me, I’ve taken you to every damn location in the woodland. My domain is sandwiched between these two pricks.” He gestures between Cerulean and Elixir while enduring my know-it-all sister’s scrutiny. “The forest is smaller, easier to cover ground, and because I know you, I get shit done with spare time to fry you pancakes. You’ve seen everything.”

“I’d better have,” she declares.

“Pancakes?” Lark parrots. “You mean, she actually lets you control the stove?”

Puck shrugs. “I know it’s hard to believe, but I’m not just a roguish face.”

“You cook?”

“I dabble.”

Pride lifts Juniper’s chin. “His dishes could bring kings and queens to their knees.”

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