Page 10 of Mountain of Mirrors and Starlight
A stream ran alongside the path, obscuring the sound of her breathing. Ahead, a pool and a short waterfall appeared, and beside it… a large, grey, still shape.
The stag.
Aislinn approached, silent as wind, but the creature was obviously dead—a bolt clean through its neck. She bent down to inspect it.
It was still warm.
Whoever shot it was nearby.
She drew her dagger, but a large, heavy shape barrelled into her, knocking it out of her hand and rolling her over, arms and legs pinning her to the ground.
Her hood fell from her face, and her attacker blinked at her. Aislinn’s heart beat wildly, like it was spinning out of control.
The face above her was far from unpleasant. It was a strong, warm face, with a jawline more square than the sharpness that dominated faerie features, with full lips pulled in an easy smirk. A tiny trace of fine, dark stubble dotted his chin, his skin had a soft, earthen tone—like one used to being out often in the sun. It was rough and smooth all at the same time, all earth and coal and velvet.
Aislinn disliked it almost as much as she enjoyed it.
“You’re not a dwarf,” she said.
The tanned face stared back at her. “You’re not a palace guard,” he said, looking at the dagger nearby. Evidently, it must have been like the ones they favoured.
“If only I could say your powers of observation are astonishing, but clearly, that is not the case.”
The man glared back at her, brow slightly furrowed. She wondered if it was her turn of phrase that confused him, the inability to state things outright.
He glanced at the side of her head, where her ears peeked through her hair. A gloved hand reached up to touch her ear cuffs, to examine whether the flesh beneath matched what the metal concealed.
His eyes widened when the cuff came away.
“Fae,” he whispered, scrambling to his feet. He drew his dagger between them.
“Oh, relax,” Aislinn said, climbing to her feet and readjusting her ear cuff. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
He did not seem convinced.
“I couldn’t say it if it wasn’t true!”
“Your kind has ways of twisting the truth. Maybe you don’t mean to hurt me. But there are many things you could do to me that wouldn’t hurt—”
“Fine, fine. I intend you no harm, complete stranger. I will not try to trick you, I will not attack you unless you attack me, I shall not manipulate or deceive or take any actions against you, at least until dawn tomorrow.”
He frowned, still brandishing his dagger. “That is… not comforting?”
“Always put a time limit on these things. I don’t know you, after all. I might need to take action against you another time. I have to cover my bases.”
“Right…”
“I’m looking for a group of dwarves,” she said. “Have you seen any around here?”
He paused, only briefly. “What do you want with dwarves?”
“The rumour is that they kidnapped a prince. I’ve been sent to… well. I suppose I can’t share that.” Because even though Owen wanted him retrieved, her father was more interested in discovering the reason for his kidnapping in the first place. It would not help if this stranger reported Hawthorn’s interest in the dwarves to anyone else. He needed to make an ally of Owen, not an enemy.
“Can’t?” The man raised an eyebrow. “Or won’t?”
“I may have something of a joint mission.”
“May?”
