“Not to be a downer, but I’ve been through the ringer, and I’m playing my Commoner card. I have to sleep, guys. It’s a lousy habit of mine, and I can’t shake it.” My joke fell flat when the identical looks of doom were displayed on Bayard’s and Rousseau’s hairy Chewbacca-like faces. Every mile of distance we put between us and our enemy was another exhale we all desperately clung to. We’d been riding for hours into the night, moving in the opposite direction of the Queen’s Army.
My mom’s army. Morgan le Fae, the most hated, feared and revered queen Avalon had ever seen was my birth mother – a woman whom I’d thought died while bringing me into the world. Apparently, she took the wicked queen thing to a whole new level, poisoning my dad so he couldn’t overthrow her. King Urien remained sickly and weak, tucked away in her castle like Sleeping Beauty. I’d always pictured having a dad, but he’d been more the Superman variety than the damsel in distress kind of dude.
Whatever. I now had a dad who hadn’t abandoned me. He may not be Superman, but he wasn’t a deadbeat, either. Bonus, for sure. I kept having these fantasies of me walking into the castle I’d been born into and calling out his name. Somehow, just the sound of my voice would be enough to break the evil queen’s spell, and he’d sit up with new life. My father would know my voice, though he hadn’t heard it since I was a year old, and he’d instructed his sister-in-law, Lane, to take me away from Avalon into a world where Morgan le Fae couldn’t find me. In the words of the immortal Will Smith in Independence Day, “‘Welcome to Earth.’”
Morgan had been given an enchanted gemstone from the illusive Master Kerdik, just like her eight sisters. Unlike them, she wanted more. She stole enough of their Jewels of Good Fortune to make her province the most bountiful one in Avalon. I guess she wanted like, vats of fruit instead of mere buckets of the stuff. I dunno. All I knew was that some crazy shiz was tied to those gems. The women in the provinces without the gems had a harder time getting pregnant, and the land wasn’t as plentiful. Not cool.
While I was horrified and ashamed that this was my mother, the little girl part of me still kind of wanted to meet her, to see her face. I’d never even seen pictures. I wondered if we might have the same heart shape to our faces, the same skin that tanned easily, and if we have the same uphill battle brushing out the tangles from our brown, wavy hair. I wondered if she was dyslexic, or if that struggle was my blight to contribute to the family tree.
Remy’s unspoken voice wafted into my tired mind. “I wish I had something that could rouse you. I’ve been trying to keep quiet so I don’t exhaust your magic further. I’m so sorry, Princess.”
“It’s fine, Remy,” I answered him aloud, cluing the others into our psychic conversation. “Not your fault. I like our conversations. It’s normal for me to be tired.”
Bastien sighed heavily – a sign of his attitude not taking a much-needed vacation. “There’s nowhere to stop, Rosie. Just sleep on me.”
I was already leaning my back to his chest as he steered the horse we shared. I wasn’t totally stellar at riding horses, only talking with them. It was part of my birth blessing, I guess. I can speak hidden languages (though I got a D+ in Spanish by the skin of my teeth. Go figure). I can also find things easily enough to be called the Compass. The horse I was riding on was named Pierre, though he hated his name. He wanted to be called Fleur-de-lis, which was his favorite flower. Having a flower name myself, I couldn’t begrudge the guy a little happiness. I let my hand rest on Bastien’s thigh as we galloped through the starlit prairie, a smile teasing my lips at his barely audible intake of breath. Though we’d been connected for hours, each brush of a touch painted a crackle of something new and exciting between us. “As great a pillow as you are, I don’t really think I can fall asleep upright on a horse.”
“I’ll catch you if you fall.”
I ran my fingers along his left arm that held the reins, loving how the muscle in his scarred forearm popped out when he tensed up. “That’s only like, the greatest pickup line ever.”
“Is that so? Is it working on you?”
“I almost just invited you back to my bed. To keep me cozy while I sleep, of course, but still. It’s a step up from the stables,” I teased him. It was a flirt I couldn’t help but indulge in. We hadn’t even kissed, though I wanted to a thousand times over. “But seriously, folks. I do need to sleep at some point.” Apparently the only reason I required sleep as a Fae was because I used a crap ton of magic when I spoke to animals, or people who had a hidden language. I contemplated cutting back on that, but it really wasn’t an option. I was a foreigner here, and the animals had my back. With Remy having his tongue cut out, as Morgan had done to all the healers long ago, he was overjoyed to be able to speak with anyone. I didn’t have the heart to tell him I was falling asleep.
“I can help with the sleeping problem,” Damond volunteered, guiding his horse to our side with his hand raised, like the proper young lad he was. I mean, he was probably a year or two younger than me, but he seemed so much older and controlled. “You might not like the place, but it’s safe. Safer than anywhere else, but that’s only if we can get you in without announcing you. No one will bother us. The Queen’s Army is clear across Avalon into a new province by now, so they’ve already swept this area looking for Reyn. We need to feed and water the horses. Refuel a little. The princess can rest then.” He cleared his throat. “Duke Henri doesn’t know I come here, though, so this stop needs to be kept secret.” It would be strange to an outsider to hear a son call his own father by his regal title, but it made a little more sense after meeting the pompous and nasty Duke Henri. That my cousin had grown up into such a well-mannered and kind young man was a wonder.
Bayard nodded curiously that the obedient son had secrets from his old man. “Yep. Fine. Lead the way, kid.”
Damond bristled at Bayard referring to him as a kid, but he was too polite to correct him. I knew the feeling. In a group of rulers and warriors, we were the young-uns. “When we get to the village, let me do the talking.”
Bayard caught Damond’s eye and nodded his approval, his horse’s tail swishing back and forth in time with the horse he was riding. Chewbacca never looked so cool. “Look at you, taking charge now that Daddy’s gone. Good for you, kid.” Bayard was slightly less hairy than the shaggy horse he rode.
“Yes, well. Follow me. The princess looks like she’s barely alive anymore.”
Rousseau turned his hairy red head to me and winced, letting me know I looked exactly as terrible as I felt. “Oof, you’re right. If sleeping cures that, then let’s get the princess a bed. I’ll take her there myself.” He winked at me, earning my middle finger and a blown kiss. I’d quickly learned that Wildmen were kind of pervy, if Bayard and Rousseau were any indication.
When no eyes were on us anymore, Bastien placed a kiss to the space between my shoulder and my neck, making me shiver through the chill of the night that nipped at my damp jeans and t-shirt. Lane had Abraham Lincoln (my brown bear cub) tucked closely on her lap, but every now and then he whined that he needed me to hold him. Hamish (my squirrel) was happy to be in the lead with Damond, always seeking out new nuts and adventures. Seven flew overhead, but not too high, staying close to make sure her black, leathered wings weren’t spotted above the trees. She was a fantastic lookout bird, turning traitor from the Queen’s Army to come hang with me.
We rode for two hours more before the sparse trees lining the prairie started giving way to a hint of civilization in the form of a city’s wall. It had hooks with hanging lanterns shedding light on the perimeter. When we trotted up to the wooden wall made of trees that had been cut in half and stretched several feet higher than our tallest horse, Damond dismounted, motioning for us to do the same and hand him our horses.
Lane moved to me, gripping my hand that wasn’t in Bastien’s. She had a sixth sense about things sometimes, and I could feel the tension in her grip. “Stay close,” she insisted.
Reyn held her other hand, looking gaunt and sickly. His dark features were harder to see against the night, but the circles under his eyes were visible even under the flickering lantern’s light. The shadows that danced on his face made him look like he was coming down with the flu – only he wasn’t. This was one of the things I wasn’t allowed to ask Bastien about, because he’d flip his shiz and turn into a sullen brat. He was protective of his bestie, not wanting anyone to know what was obvious – Reyn was a very sick man. He might even be the kind of sick that didn’t get better. It had something to do with his low supply of magic, but if I sniffed any closer to the problem, Bastien’s bark turned painful.
Damond looked over his shoulder, pausing as he raised his fist to knock on one of the trunks of the great wall. “Um, Lot? You might want to keep your head down. You won’t want to be seen here. Aunt Lane? Rosie? Um, you might want to cover… all of that up.” He motioned to our whole bodies, and like a dummy I looked down.
Right. I had boobs now. Lane had changed my appearance with some magical object, making me go through life on earth with a hump, a wonky eye and a fair amount of acne. When Bastien ganked my concealment necklace, my skin cleared up, my eye and my posture straightened, and my chest… grew. I looked like Lane more than I ever had before, and wasn’t sure how to gracefully handle going from being the ugly girl no guy wanted to ask out, to attracting attention without meaning to. It was a steep learning curve.
Lane pulled a sweater out of her backpack and put it on to iron out her obvious curves. Bastien took his flannel off so I could thread my arms through it. It fit me like a dress, but it was the coolest I’d felt in a while. I was finally the cheerleader who got to wear the jock’s letterman jacket. I was the girl the hot guy was looking at. “Thank you. Is this my invisibility cloak? Am I totally incognito now?”
The corner of Bastien’s mouth tugged upward. “Keep your head down. I wish we had a hat for you or something.”
“Here,” Lot offered, taking his gray riding cloak from his shoulders.
Bastien frowned. “You need to keep your presence here hidden, too. Dukes don’t come to places like this.” He looked over me to Damond. He took out another flannel out of his pack and slid it on himself, flipping the collar up to obscure his neck tattoo. “The Lost Village? Really? I don’t want Rosie here, and I can’t imagine Duchess Elaine should be seen in here, either.”
Seven made her home in my arms, tucking her body inside the cloak Lot fashioned around me. Lot took his time tying the lace at my neck. The hood flipped over my head, and just like that, I was the grim reaper. Or like, a super-fly Hobbit or something. Lot studied Lane, and then tugged the hood of her sweater over her hair. “It’s the best we can do. I’ll sacrifice my reputation for the safety of Avalon.”
“Thank you for looking out for Rosie,” Lane said, touching his wrist.
“Of course,” Lot replied with a modest smile. His perfect blond hair wasn’t even windswept from our long ride – dude was just that smooth.
Damond held his ground against the wariness in the others. “If she doesn’t announce herself, I highly doubt anyone will know it’s her. Keep your heads down, and don’t make eye contact.”
“Why are we hiding in here?” Lot asked, his brows furrowed. “Only scamps end up in the Lost Village.”
“Exactly. No one’s going to look for us in here.” Damond moved a stray black hair back to join the others that were slicked back in a wave. He had naturally paler skin than mine, but he looked white as a sheet at what we were about to do. Awesome.
I whispered comfort and affectionate reassurances to Seven, who remained in my arms under my cloak. Abraham Lincoln let go of Lane’s leg and reached up for me like a toddler, but I was too weak to support myself on my bum leg for too long. Blame it on the in-home surgery I’d had that removed a million snake babies from my calf muscle.
Bastien took Abraham Lincoln from me, hitching him on his hip like a baby. “There you go, little buddy,” he said quietly, revealing his soft side to me. I couldn’t help but swoon at the cuteness. Bastien looped his arm around me, holding us together. “I know you want your mama, but you’ll have to settle for your dad until we get settled.”
My heart did a happy little skip that Bastien was playing house with me and our cuddly love child. He leaned down to kiss my cheek when the others were distracted, warming my whole body to his touch. “Stop seducing me,” I admonished him with a blush. “It’s working too well.”
Bastien leaned his head down with an impish grin. “Never.”
Damond knocked on the wooden wall, and a single stump opened halfway up the twelve-foot expanse to reveal a sort of window. A scared man’s round face looked out from it. “Who goes there?” He looked out from his window that was about the same height as Damond’s head. “Oh. Hey, kid. You here to see your brother?”
I heard Lane’s intake of breath and saw her lift onto her toes. Her eyes were wide with excitement, and something that looked like nervous regret.
Damond stood on his toes to be better seen. “Yeah. I brought him a healer, some new girls, a couple clients and a few horses. He said he needed them. I hired these Wildmen to help me bring them in.” He jerked his thumb to Rousseau, Remy and Bayard, who were right behind Damond, holding the reins of their horses after dismounting.
The man in the window was only a pudgy head who leaned back to take notes with a quill and parchment before leaning forward again. “Alright. You picked quite a night to visit. The Queen’s Army was just in here yesterday, searching through the place for the Judge’s son from Province 2. Boy, do they make a mess when they come through. Draper’s probably still recovering. But go on in. You know I won’t turn you away.”
The window shut, and something that sounded like a lever turned from the inside, opening up a door that was seven trees wide. Bayard and Remy went in guiding their horses with careful steps, while Damond led the way.
Reyn and Bastien sandwiched Lane and I between them, with Lot taking up the rear. I ran my tongue along the roof of my mouth, worried that we were going somewhere I didn’t understand, and might be doing something that might be more dangerous than we could handle. I wished we weren’t downwind of Rousseau. His nervous stomach kept letting noxious gas out with a blast after every third step.
Damond shuffled ahead, leading the way through the cobblestone village that was decidedly shady. There were loud fistfights coming from a street to our left, and angry bickering over who broke whose window to our right. The sound of the quarrel was broken by a woman’s scream that pierced my ears with the passion of a good horror movie howl. I shrank into Bastien and brought Lane tighter to my side.
The night was lit by intermittent lanterns that highlighted trash in the street. The city wreaked of piss and neglect. The shops we passed by reflected the crime city factor, missing the cheery push to bring in newcomers. Instead we were greeted with filthy storefronts and clientele that milled about with surly scowls that concealed none of their shady intent. Several toppled carts were left half on the street, and hay was strewn about in the middle of the main road we were headed down. There were no houses, only businesses with stucco roofs and barred windows. Though Damond was a couple inches taller than me, he looked small leading the way. I worried for him having made this trip before without us to back him up.
A woman in her mid-sixties with thick ankles and a torn and stained housecoat flew out from one of the buildings. She didn’t give any care to who could see up her tattered brown outfit, nor did she care that I could smell her armpits even from the distance Bastien kept me as his arm tightened around me. I winced when I caught a peek of her panty-less, pudgy butt through an ill-placed slit up the back. “Damond! Good to see you, sugar pie. Tell me you’ve got an hour to spare for me. I see good things in your future, boy. I’ve got a special price on fortunes tonight. Only one silver coin for an hour. I’ll never charge so little again!” She gripped onto his collar with fingers that should know better. She had green eyes, like Reyn, so I knew she was a Rétif. They were supposed to be good at trickery. While Reyn used his deceit to try and appear healthy when he was clearly not, and Lane had used hers to hide me from Avalon, this woman apparently used hers to predict the future.
Damond shook her off as politely as he could. “Not now, Gerta. I’ve got to see Draper. Then maybe tomorrow, if I catch you.”
She cackled through the night, truly sounding like a witch. “If only your father knew you came here. He’d tear the whole place down rather than let his precious boy ruin his good name in our village.” She winked at him, leering without apology. “Come ruin your name with me, boy. You’ve never had so much fun.”
She was missing one of her front teeth and breathed heavy when she spoke in his face. I could only guess by Damond’s reactive jerk backwards that her breath wasn’t all that appealing. “Not this time, Gerta. Try your luck with one of the Wildmen after they help me with my delivery.”
Bayard gave her a clear “I’ll pass,” but Rousseau looked her up and down appraisingly. As if on cue, Rousseau let out a loud, spluttery fart that exploded out his back end. Match made in Heaven.
“Let’s keep moving. These horses need to be watered.” Damond led the way, pulling the horses forward down the darkened street. He turned right at the end, introducing us to what could commonly be known as crime central in any world. There were men out on their front porches, shaking hands with scowls as they traded coins for pouches. There were two dudes brawling in the middle of the street, getting in punches over someone named Celine.
“Damond! Not so fast. You know you don’t get to pass through without a stop at my place.” A man with a beer belly and no shirt on held open his front door. I didn’t want to guess what kind of toll Damond paid to get through to see his brother. “In here, boy.”
Damond’s voice shook, but he stood his ground. “Not today, Norris. I’ve got to see Draper.”
“You brought my payment, didn’t you?” He slammed his door shut and waddled toward Damond, who stepped back on instinct.
Bastien gripped my hand, and I could tell he was debating between keeping a low profile and beating the snot out of Norris. Bayard handed his horse to Lot and stood next to Damond, his hand heavy on my cousin’s shoulder. “What sort of payment?”
“A silver coin. Don’t care whose pocket it comes from. Your money’s just as good here, Wildman. But if you want to pass, you pay to walk down my street.” He touched Damond’s chin, and I flinched when Damond jerked away guiltily. “I take other payments, too. Isn’t that right, boy? One way or another, I get my hand in your pocket.”
Lane was shaking with grief, but I was trembling with rage. My voice came out quiet, but each word was punctuated with a rage that was bubbling up inside of me. “At what point am I allowed to kick that guy’s butt? I mean, I’m supposed to be discreet, but I don’t think that’s as important as ending this dude.” Seven burrowed against my abdomen, her wings stiffening at my tension. My sweet bird begged me to stay quiet, not wanting to risk me getting hurt in a fight. I could hear Hamish’s angry chittering from Reyn’s pocket. My squirrel didn’t understand all the politics of the situation, but he knew when I was pissed, and took my causes on as his own, like a true friend.
Bastien held tight to my hand, anchoring me to the spot. “Your identity stays secret. Let us handle it. Keep your head down.”
Bayard reached his beefy, hairy fingers out and gripped Norris’ face, squeezing his cheeks until Norris squealed. “I tell you what. I’m going to go make sure Damond makes it to where we’re headed, and then I’m coming back for you. See how you like getting your payment from me.”
Bastien moved me closer, securing me to his side protectively. I held onto Lane’s hand, ensuring she didn’t leave my sight. Her head was bowed beneath her hoodie, but I could see her jaw was set in deep planning mode. I didn’t want to be on the business end of whatever she had in store for Norris.
Norris let us pass by after Bayard released him with a knee to his groin and a punch across his face. “L-let’s go,” Damond said, and I desperately wanted to hug him, to tell him it was going to be alright.
Damond led us down several more streets, fending off aggressive street urchins and a few jags who tried to steal the horses. Bastien set Abraham Lincoln down, and the two of them defended the horses while Lot and Remy guarded Lane and I, who were unarmed. Abraham Lincoln bit one of the attackers, and raked his claw across the leg of one of the others.
“That’s right, buddy!” Bastien called to his fur baby. Bastien landed a few punches on the robbers, knocking two of them clean out with a force Mike Tyson would envy. The entire fight was over in a minute, but Damond admonished all of us to try harder to keep a low profile. Bastien offered up a “What do you expect?” kind of shrug I adored him for.
The streets themselves grew filthier as we neared the three-story building with a stucco roof at the end of the street. It appeared to be the grand finale of the city, with the cobblestone ending at its imposing doublewide entrance. There had been mud on the road and some spilled food, sure, but soon we were stepping over glass and out and out garbage.
My nerves were shot when we arrived at the noisy bar with too many drunk middle-aged and older men inside for me to be chill. We peered through the scummy window, making sure to keep a healthy distance from the drunken brawling that was happening inside.
“This is no place for us to stay!” Lot scolded Damond in a whisper that could barely be heard. There was a piano that played off-key, but no one seemed to mind. The men’s attentions were all glued to the scantily clad women who danced for them all around the large common area. There were women dancing on the bar, women sashaying from table to table, women wearing sheer swaths of fabric that left nothing to the imagination, and a few women wearing absolutely nothing.
Damond was firm. “Do you really think Morgan will search for her here? This is the best we’ve got. Rosie has to rest, and her leg is only going to get more injured if she keeps on like she is. This is the best I can do, so keep quiet for a little longer until I can get us a room. Wait here. I’ll be right out.”
Damond disappeared inside, and none of us spoke of the strippers earning their keep, but remained in stunned silence until he came back. Damond’s smile broke the uncertainty, spreading wide across his face. “We can take the horses to my brother’s stables around back. Draper’s meeting us there! Hurry!”
I hadn’t known Damond had a brother, but that was on the long list of things I didn’t know about my own family.
We scurried around back, looking over our shoulders and making sure we weren’t followed. Everyone exhaled in unison when Remy shut the stable doors behind us, though Bastien and Reyn kept tight to Lane and me.
“I don’t know about this,” Remy warned me. “The Lost Village is no place for a lady, or men who want to go about a life unscathed. You’ll stay near Bastien, Princess.”
I glanced up at Bastien, and the sight of him holding my bear again warmed me down to my toes. “If you insist.”