Page 49 of The Tracker's Rage
“Oh, well, that explains it.” I wrinkled my nose at Damien. “You’re giving us all a bad name.”
“I may know where Prince Adanorin is,” Glimlock said after a moment of contemplation.
I perked up. “You do?”
He gave one decisive nod. “But first,” he put out a hand, “my chrysanthemum.”
Damien didn’t move and continued to sit with his arms folded across his chest. “Can we trust him?”
“Give it a rest, Damien,” I blurted out, anger getting the best of me. “I’d say he’s more trustworthy than you.” I turned to the Fae. “Please, Glimlock, don’t go byWhite Damiento judge us all. It would be like judging all birds because you’ve met a chicken.”
“How dare you?!” Damien exclaimed. “In me, he has met an eagle. The rest of you are the chickens.”
I rolled my eyes.
Glimlock sputtered a laugh. “What a sorry eagle,” he managed, then kept laughing, a hand pressed to his ample belly. His laugh was so hearty and infectious that I couldn’t help but join him.
Damien threw his arms up in the air. “Enough of this nonsense.” He twirled his hands and a black chrysanthemum appeared between his fingers.
Glimlock’s laugh froze midway, and his beady eyes opened as wide as golf balls, nearly popping out of his head. He snatched the flower away from Damien and cradled it near his chest as if it were a delicate baby.
“Oh, Ennora, I shall hold you in my arms tonight.” Tears glittered in the corner of his eyes, and I felt genuinely happy for him.
“Now,” Damien said, “where can we find Prince Kalyll?”
Glimlock explained carefully as Damien and I did our best to memorize his directions. As we departed on our way, the Fae placed a fist on his chest.
“Young shifter,” Glimlock inclined his head. “I must say, you have done a great deal to change my opinion of your kind. Farewell.”
* * *
AN HOUR LATER, DAMIENand I were still riding atop the two dappled ponies Glimlock had let us borrow—for a few gold coins, mind you. Damien had reluctantly pulled the gold out of his granny bag and had promised the Fae to return the beasts.
“If your directions don’t lead us directly to the Prince,” the mage had warned, “I’ll come back and give your Ennora back to your neighbor.”
“Don’t listen to him,” I’d said, glowering at Damien. “He won’t do such a thing.”
We were now on the eastern road out of Elyndell as Glimlock had instructed, and every time I glanced in Damien’s direction, I had to stifle a laugh. He looked comical on the pony, his long legs nearly touching the ground, his cloak tented over the animal’s rump.
“These aren’t exactly ponies, are they?” I asked, trying to make conversation. “I mean, they’re small but not as small as the ponies I’ve seen back home.”
“There are different pony breeds. These can be ridden by adults. Marginally,” he answered coldly. He seemed distracted and not very interested in conversation.
We were supposed to ride about thirty minutes on this road, then another hour heading north where the road forked. The directions weren’t exactly making me feel at ease about finding Kalyll. They were too vague and made me wish for the reassuring voice of my GPS telling me to “turn right in twenty yards” or else end up on the wrong side of town.
Every few minutes, Damien shot a little bolt of lightning into the pony’s butt, causing the animal to yelp and prance forward until it slowed down and he repeated the process all over again.
I spurred my pony forward to catch up. “Stop zapping the poor horse.”
“We don’t have all day. I would rather get there and back before nightfall. You don’t want to be in these woods when it turns dark.”
“Oh, yeah?” I glanced around, wondering what he meant. I didn’t know enough about Fae kind and nothing about their realm, so I decided it was best to trust Damien.
After that, I started noticing strange sounds coming from the nearby trees. My eyes darted in their sockets like balls on a pool table. My wolf was on edge, ready to come out at the smallest threat. When my back began to hurt from sitting so stiffly and alert, I tried to start another conversation to distract myself.
“How old is your daughter, Damien?” I asked.
He scratched the side of his neck and took so long to answer that I thought he would ignore my question. At last, he said, “she was thirty-four when she was made into a vampire. Now, she is nearly fifty.”
