Keeper of Storms (The Fallen Fae #3) - Jenna Wolfhart Page 0,10
certain she’d find the answers there. But how? And where? Fomor was as big as the Air Court and the Ice Court combined, and she did not know how to navigate any of it.
“Well, you better get to understanding,” Gayle said with a nod toward the approaching shore. “Because we’re about to dock. And you won’t have much time to sneak on board any ships destined for Fomor. You’ll have to be as quick as an owl.” She gave Eislyn a quick once-over. “And don’t make any sudden movements or that wig will fall off.”
Eislyn swallowed hard. She hadn’t seen herself in a mirror yet, but she knew she looked nothing like herself, and she had to keep it that way. They’d even bound her breasts in cloth to flatten it beneath her oversized, drab brown tunic. A pair of boys’ trousers were cinched around her waist. The loose fabric had the effect of hiding all of her curves.
The ship shuddered as it stopped. Instantly, the crew jumped into action. They poured off the boat, fastening it securely to the wooden dock. Gayle turned to Eislyn and clasped her shoulder.
“This is where we say goodbye and good luck.” She grinned. “I mean it, princess. I’m a little jealous, if I’m honest. It sounds like a grand adventure, sneaking into Fomor. Just…be careful, eh?”
“Thanks. For everything.” Eislyn took two steps back, fear clutching her heart. And then she turned, joining the rest of the crew as they scurried off the ship. She slipped past them and into the river of humans that were wandering up and down the dock. The wood creaked beneath her booted feet as she scanned her options.
There were two ships that looked as though they were readying to set sail. Both were monstrous things, in both size and appearance. Both held the same foreign sigil on the great sails—a golden sword slashing through flared wings.
Eislyn slowly wandered past, eyeing the barrels. When she reached the far end of the dock, she turned. The humans were carrying the barrels on board, most likely depositing them in the hull. Rubbing her sweaty palms against her threadbare tunic, she strode purposely to the barrels. No one blinked an eye or even glanced her way. With her mousy hair and boyish clothes, nothing about her stood out from the rest of them.
Hurriedly, she hefted a barrel into her arms and climbed onto the ship. Her arms groaned as she waddled forward, the deck tilting beneath her. What the hell is inside this thing? The barrels on board The Stormhammer were nothing compared to this. Gritting her teeth, she shuffled forward. If she dropped this, she was done for.
Eislyn lurched forward, somehow managing to find the steps leading down into the hull. Humans scurried around her, prepping the ship to sail. When she finally reached the bottom of the steps, she hurriedly eased the barrel onto the floor and wiped the sweat from her forehead. It was sticky, hot, and dark beneath the deck. It was crammed full of barrels and wooden boxes and piles of ice glass.
Footsteps sounded on the steps above her. Heart hammering, she flew behind the barrel and ducked out of sight. A moment later, the footsteps thundered through the hull.
“What are you doing down here?” A head popped over the crate, and a sneering face peered down at her. The man laughed, spittle dripping onto his parched lips. “A fae, eh? Haven’t had one of you lot stow away on our ships in decades. Well, looks like we’ll finally get to have some fun.”
Her heart slowed. She curved her hands against the floor. How did he know she was fae? Was it that obvious? Gayle had said it was, but Eislyn never thought it would be as bad as this.
Eislyn’s first instinct was to scuttle back and hide behind another crate, not that it would help much. Tears burned in the back of her eyes. They threatened to pour down her cheeks and splash onto the rocking floor. But with a strength she did not knew she had, she held it all back. Instead of crying, she stood, bracing one hand on the wall as the bucking of the ship tried to knock her to her knees.
“I need to go to the Empire of Fomor,” she said as firmly as she could manage, dropping her voice several octaves. “I was told your crew is sailing this ship that way.”
The man snorted. “We’re going to Fomor, alright. And