Page 9 of The Barbaric Fae's Soul

We stepped into the third-floor living area, and my eyes widened when I saw Naomi sprawled across a couch, absolutely covered in what was either blood or… blood-colored body paint?

I was going to go with the body paint thing.

The room was full of fae women; some were spreading another layer of the body paint over Naomi’s skin, some were testing her vitals with fingers over her wrist or throat. Most were just watching, though. There were a bunch of the new human women too, lined up along the edges of the room.

“What’s wrong with her?” I asked quietly.

“Changing one’s true name is a dangerous practice, but it’s the only way to break a mate bond,” Fovea explained, stopping beside me and letting her gaze move over the woman. “We’ve removed her previous name from her, but now she’s lost to the goddess as she tries to establish a new one.”

“Damn. So she’s on some kind of… spirit journey?” I asked, thinking back to one of the Disney movies I’d seen as a kid. The term sounded kind of familiar, but it had been so long since I watched it that I couldn’t say for sure.

“That’s an accurate description, actually.” Fovea sounded kind of surprised. “Do humans often go on these?”

I shook my head. “Not that I know of. I was just guessing.”

“Ah. Well, yes. There’s no way to say how long her journey will last. When we changed the name of my life-bringer, she was with the goddess for eight days.”

“Eight days?” My eyebrows shot upward. “Then what’s the body paint for?”

“It’s clay, mixed with her blood. Blood activates the clay, and the magic in it slows her body’s processes to keep her alive without sustenance while she’s on her journey.”

Okay, that was pretty cool.

I’d have to remember it, in case I ever got horribly injured. Which… would hopefully never happen. But the abuse survivor in me refused to believe that I was past all of life’s horrors. Even if none of the fae hurt me, there were a million other ways that life could bite me in the ass. And being prepared reduced the stress of waiting for the inevitable.

In my life, pain had always been inevitable. It was why I tried to stay happy—because I had to enjoy the good moments while they lasted.

“My harsh and I will prepare for battle,” Fovea told me, her expression dark. “And pray for a way to avoid it.”

I dipped my head. “I’ll tell the men.”

“If you see Nev…” she trailed off, her gaze focusing on the wall across the room. “Tell him not to bother asking me to stay out of the fight,” she finally said.

I studied her for a long moment.

She seemed so much calmer than she had when we first found the fae women in the forest.

“You look happy,” I said to her.

Her lips curved upward, just the tiniest bit. “I suppose I do.” She looked at me, then. “Don’t delay. We have no time to waste, if these klynnas have truly escaped.”

Right.

I nodded, and then headed out.

If she was pregnant, I was pretty sure the rest of the harsh ladies would make her sit out. And she would probably let them, because they valued the ability to bring life so much.

That made me think it was probably safe to say that she hadn’t gotten knocked up yet.

I couldn’t help but wonder how things would change for the rest of the female fae, when she ended up pregnant, though. If she did.

But my focus was on the klynnas.

Despite Fovea’s warning to stay out of the sky, I shifted forms and flew back to the men. As long as I remained beneath the treetops, I didn’t think anything above could see me at all.

A dragon shifter I didn’t recognize launched out of the trees and flew above me after I passed him—shielding my body with his, I guess.

The fae were overprotective, but flying above me like that was next-level. Which only made me more nervous about the klynnas.

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