Page 14 of Beyond the Faerie Gate

Well… that’s new.

My wolf has never just voluntarily submitted to anyone before. Normally, he’s alpha to the core and happy to challenge anyone who assumes otherwise.

Rhoswyn actually giggles, and the sound makes my tail wag, slapping on the ground embarrassingly loudly.

When she reaches down to pet my belly, my wolf just about dies of happiness. When her fingers make contact with my fur, my mouth lolls open and my tongue falls out.

“You’re huge,” she mutters, almost to herself. “I thought you were a bear before, because you were so big. And… what’s this?” She grips my paw gently, tracing the lines there.

Shit. Her mark. I didn’t realise it translated to my shifted form.

My wolf jerks like he’s been struck by lightning. It feels like… Goddess… it feels like she’s stroking my soul through my skin.

Rose steps back as I flip back onto all fours and shake myself, pawing the ground to try and rid myself of the lingering sensation. If I shift now, she’s going to see the mother of all erections. I pace to my clothes, grabbing a mouthful between my teeth, and head for a large pine to change.

When I step out again, she’s rubbing her fingertips.

“What does the mark on your paw mean?” she asks as soon as she sees me.

“It’s a mark we all received when we swore to protect you.” I stoop and grab a bandage, wrapping it around my hand. “It’ll give us away, so I’ll cover it until we reach your palace.”

Thank Goddess she didn’t ask about the shape. I’ve been pondering over it myself for years.

Each Nicnevin’s mark is supposed to be connected to the dual nature of their magic. Her mother’s was an eye, for her foresight, with the pupil shaped like a heart, to represent her empathy.

Rhoswyn’s is… not so simple, and I don’t want her to fear her own power before she’s even used it.

Thankfully, she forgets about the mark completely in favour of her next question. “Will I shift?”

I shake my head. “No Nicnevin ever has before, though I suppose it’s not impossible. It’s a genetic gift, one only high fae possess.” I let her process, waiting patiently for her next question. Only, I seem to have finally exhausted her curiosity. I glance back at the portal one more time. We really do need to be going.

“Are you ready?” I ask, stuffing what few personal possessions I have into my drawstring bag.

There aren’t many because I’ve spent most of my time in wolf form to avoid questions.

Mortals are oddly much happier to believe in freakishly large wildlife than they are to believe in males with pointed ears.

Rose looks behind her, her hand clenching on her own small bag.

“I think so,” she says.

Her eyes are wet, but I don’t call attention to it as I offer her my arm once more. This time, I’m prepared for the jolt, though how her touch can still affect me through my leather bracers is beyond me.

She puts her hand on the gate and opens it slightly, looking back one last time.

Just when I think I might have to nudge her through, she sucks in a deep breath and moves forward.

The world we emerge into isn’t anything like the summer glade which she left all those years ago. The ground is dry and cracked, the trees bare and stripped of bark. Without a Nicnevin to connect the fae and the land to Danu’s magic, Faerie has become a land of extremes.

I can’t see Drystan yet, and that worries me. He promised to be here the last time I saw him. Admittedly, that was years ago… but still. He’s the only other member of her Guard I’ve managed to keep contact with. The other three disappeared after taking their oaths. I don’t know him—or any of them—well, since we met for the first time when we all answered Rose’s Call, but despite being unseelie, he seems to keep to his word.

He even checked in on me a few times. I doubt he’d abandon us without good reason.

Rhoswyn’s hand clenches on my arm, and at first I think it’s in fear. Understandable, given that she’s just entered a different realm. But her pained gasp has me whirling, searching for the threat.

Her face is pinched in pain, and her free arm is wrapped around her abdomen. As I struggle to realise what’s going on, her hand falls from my arm and lands on the metal of the gate.

The portal crumples, squealing and groaning as it folds in on itself. Sparks fly into the air, and the metal glows with heat, but still, she doesn’t pull her hand away.

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