Keeper of Storms (The Fallen Fae #3) - Jenna Wolfhart Page 0,8

be the most idiotic thing I’ve ever heard. Have you never looked at that face of yours in the mirror? That hair? You’d never pass for a human.”

Eislyn frowned. “Surely some humans have silver hair.”

“Old ones, sure. Ones bent with age. Your face is as fresh as the silk from a hoarfrost worm,” Gayle said with a shrug. “But what will really make you stand out are those ears.”

Eislyn reached up to touch the very tips of her curved ears. They cut through her hair, parting it so that half of her silver strands fell forward over her shoulder and the rest fell behind. She tried to push her hair on top of her ears, but the strands quickly settled back into place. It was as if a line had been carved so deeply in the dirt that not even the most rigorous waves could wash it away.

“I could wear a hood,” she whispered. “That will hide all of it. The hair, the ears. Whatever else that gives me away.”

“The way you move,” Gayle said. “The way you speak. The way you even breathe. You are fae, Eislyn. Everything about you seems otherworldly to humans. Only an illusion could hide the truth of what you are.”

Her hands fisted by her sides. “Well, I have to do something. I need to get to the Empire of Fomor.”

Gayle sighed and shook her head with a fond smile. Over the past weeks, Eislyn had worked hard, alongside the rest of the crew. She had scrubbed the deck. She had cleaned up sick. She had spooned stale porridge into bowls to pass around. Her entire body ached from the hard work of it all. But she had also noticed the new firmness of her muscles. Now, she could heft a full barrel of ale off the floor and carry it up the stairs.

As she’d worked, Eislyn had noticed the hardness in Gayle’s eyes soften. Her scowls had turned to smiles.

“Looks like you’ve left me no choice,” Gayle said with a wink.

“No choice for what?”

“You may not like it…” Gayle warned.

Eislyn’s eyes narrowed. “Like what?”

“I’ve got a few wigs below deck. Left behind by some travelling minstrels.” Gayle grinned, and her freckles stretched across her cheeks. “They’re all boys’ wigs though.”

Eislyn glanced over her shoulder at the approaching docks. What Gayle had said was true. She was recognizable. Everywhere she went, people knew who she was. There wasn’t much she could do about the way she walked or the curves of her ears. But she could damn well do something about her hair.

“They might be less suspicious if they think I’m a boy.”

“Yes, problem is…” Gayle leaned forward. Her breath frosted from her thin lips. “The only way the wig’ll fit is if we shave off that hair.”

Eislyn pulled back. “Shave my hair?”

The corners of Gayle lips inched up. “Aye. Your hair is far too long and thick. The wig’ll never stay on if we don’t do something about it.”

“But…” Eislyn trailed off, absentmindedly lifting a hand to the curling strands of her silver hair. An unexpected twang went through her heart. It was just hair, and yet it felt like the last unravelling strands of a life she’d left behind. Falias, her glistening city of ice. The library where she’d curled up with a book, tucking those strands behind her ears. Her father, her family. Eislyn’s eyes fluttered shut. Her mother’s face flashed in her mind. Sweet and heart-shaped with an ever-present smile. Silver hair tumbled around her shoulders, wild and free. Eislyn could not remember much about her mother, but she remembered that beautiful, smiling image, always.

“Eislyn, if you want to do this, you’ve gotta do it now,” Gayle warned. “We don’t have long before we reach the shore, and then it’ll be too late.”

A sharp pain went through her belly, but then Eislyn steeled her nerves, and nodded. “Alright. Let’s do it.”

Grinning, Gayle led her below deck to her cabin where she dug out a pair of sheers and a razor from her mound of belongings and supplies. Eislyn chose not to ask why she had that razor in the first place. She’d learned a lot about these smugglers in their journey through the icy sea. They had done their fair share of murdering to survive.

“Sit,” Gayle ordered.

Eislyn obeyed and plopped down on a wooden stool that Gayle shoved into the center of the small cabin. Gayle’s quarters were twice as large as Eislyn’s had been, but it did not feel like