Page 59 of The Lost Fae
"We came," I began, "to help you. To make a deal. You didn't need to tie him up. You didn't need todrugus."
"What sort of deal would we strike up with the two of you? I could get you to do the work we need easily for free."
Now it's my turn to roll my eyes. Carefully, I lower Lincoln to the ground. His clothing bunches where I've tugged him up, but gravity pulls him back down. I cup my hand on his cheek, letting his warmth buzz against my skin.
He's fine. He's alright.I tell myself.
Then I turn to the group. "We came so that I can help heal that sick man." My eyes search for him in the crowd. He isn't there. No one moves or gives reaction to my words. Maybe we're too late. "And in exchange for my services, you'll come join me in The Shadow Court. Help me rid my castle of a misfit queen so I can take charge as it is destined to be."
They laugh a little at that, but I continue anyway.
"You'll be free from The Lost Court and returned to your world. Perhaps if you do well I can even offer you lot a position in the castle. I could use some loyal guards."
"The...Shadow Court?" Barnabus breathes with a shake of his head. "There is no way home from here, missy. No way to return to the land we had once roamed."
"But there is. We've just come from there, and we intend to return again. With you, should you be so inclined."
Many of them turn to someone else. There is a hush that falls over them, but their bouncing gazes suggest a much more internal monologue shared between them. This would be a whole new world to them, much different than they remembered I'm sure.
A quiet settles between us. It lasts for minutes, hours, possibly days it feels like. It's just me standing between them and Lincoln. Them and the hope of their eternal fates. Their silence plants a seed of doubt inside of me. Chest tightening, I fear that they'll turn me down and force me to work for them.
They could, too. It would work. Their plan to use Lincoln against me is coldly effective. I'd do anything to keep him from harm's way.
"Bring her to Wearl," Barabus snaps.
The men reach for me again but I take a step back. "Do we have a deal?"
"Tentatively." Barnabus curls his lips. "We'll see what you can do for our friend, first. Then if that doesn't work out, maybe we'll use your friend as motivation."
"It'll work out."
It has to. Because if it doesn't I haven't a clue what we'll do.
I give the two closest bandits a small nod and gesture for them to lead the way. I follow closely at their heels. Everyone watches, no one moving but us. The glow of the fire is the only light we truly have at this point. Even with the sun almost hidden by the horizon, dark clouds blot out the last of the light. I can hardly feel the heat of it fanning over my skin as we pass, because anger and frustration overpower it in a strong current that starts in my head, rushes to my toes, then bounces right back up.
They push open the flaps of a cream-colored tent. Inside, a mat made of a dozen blankets and pillows all piled up hold the man I'd seen just yesterday. The sheen of sweat on his brow glistens in the firelight. Every lift of his chest is accompanied by a wheezing sound. My magic reaches out to him without my even telling it to.
So little air. He's hardly getting any air and the effort it takes for him to breath is exhausting his body.
Clamping my jaw tightly closed, I bustle in past them and lower myself beside him. I place my hands on his chest, the pain of each inhale burning in my own lungs as my mind connects with his. I expect a barrier to stop me... though if you're too weak to take a full breath, it would make sense that you're not able to keep your mental barriers up.
"Hi, Wearl." I say softly, repeating the name that Barnabus had given.
"We'll leave you to it." Barnabus's voice comes from over my shoulder. I recognize it only in Wearl's thoughts as I'm already submerging myself in the feel of my magic.
Though I'm new, I'd spent the night getting familiar with my powers. My magic... It wants this. It presses inside of me at every chance for it to be used. In some ways, it goes off on its own and I'm merely the shepherd that helps keep it on track.
Fifteen
Breaking and Entering
A startling gaspripples through the air. Perspiration clings to every inch of my body. Every inch of Wearl's body too. Even the inside of the tent is drenched with a thin layer of liquid, like dew. Without anything left to attack, mend, or heal, my magic retracts.
The world around me comes back into focus. Wearl's dark brown eyes look up at me wide and in awe. His hand rises to pat his chest, to touch his face, to be certain that he's real.She's a goddess.He thinks, and the thought brings a tired smile to my face.
"No goddess. Just a queen trying to get her crown back." I lift my hands off of him and ease back onto my heels.
Every mental barrier he has slams back up, shoving me out of his head with such force that I flinch as I snap fully back into my own reality. I cup my palm over my forehead. Why does he have to do it like that? Don't they understand how disorienting it can be when you're shoved out of the perspective you've dwelled in for the last few hours?
