The Lost Fae (The Twisted Crown #3) - A.K. Koonce Page 0,13

with their sweet scent. My stomach grumbles as we pass. Tentatively, I follow. Getting my ankle snatched up by whatever this contraption is doesn't sound pleasant.

Lincoln extends his arm, pointing out the circle of rope carefully hidden on the ground. He walks behind it and beckons me forward.

"Just put one leg in."

He takes another step backwards, his childlike grin growing. A loud snap whips through the night. Lincoln flinches at the noise then groans as a binding tightens over his ankles and pulls him toward the tree. Long vines slither from around the tree's trunk wrapping around him as he struggles to keep himself up right. But the green just grows tighter and stronger around him until he is tethered from his shoulders down against the bark.

I raise both my eyebrows. "Who gets to be the hero now, huh?"

"They clearly have someone well versed in their natural magics." He grinds his teeth, struggling against the bindings.

"I quite like seeing you all tied up." I carefully walk around the first rigged trap, plucking at the vines that pin him in place.

"I fancy seeing the opposite." A wild call of men cheering rises somewhere ahead of us. "But it doesn't seem like this is the time for this conversation. Hurry along now." He juts his chin forward.

"Give me a minute." I hold up my hands to create a frame around his face. "I just want to take a mental image of this. You know... so I can look at it whenever I want."

"Briar..." His tone is a dangerous rasp, a threat that when he's free he'll make me think back on my words a little differently.

"I'm going. I'm going." I roll my eyes. "You're so dramatic. It's not like we have an entire group of dangerous old Fae bandits headed straight for us... or rather... for you." I give him my best devilish grin before I duck under a branch and begin sprinting through the trees.

I make a wide arch around where the sound of the men cheering started from, worried that I'd run into the edge of their group as they head for Lincoln. Serves him right trying to get me all snatched up and at the mercy of a bunch of horny men.

These Fae don't move with the quiet ease Lincoln and I tried to when going through the forest. This is their territory. Their home. It makes it easier for me to avoid them. They stomp over the forest floor, breaking sticks and scattering fallen nuts with every kick of their boots.

They talk amongst themselves. Bits of their conversations carry to me.

"A pirate whore," one says.

"I knew they'd get curious one of these days," another jaunts.

"Maybe it's the Captain."

"Maybe it's the first mate."

"Perhaps... it's that winged Fae girl." A few of them whistle at one another, content to carry on with their imagining before they come to find that it's just Ziko, scowling from the tree trunk. I wish I could see their faces when they get there.

I smile to myself. Firelight glows ahead and I push myself to move faster. I need to get in and out before they return. Surely, they've left a few men behind at the camp and I'll need to be quick and quiet to get around them.

My heart pounds inside of my chest. It beats with my human anxiety.

Just pretend you're stealing from a foster parent. You've done it a million times when you needed to. And you need to right now. You need to get home.

By the gods, Lincoln thinks, they smell just as bad close up as they did during the attack. Do these men ever bathe?

What's the need when you live like a wild man in the woods? I counter.

Many different shades of fabric have been tightly sewn together. The materials drop off of low hanging tree branches, creating tents with bawled up blankets inside. Fire light flickers off their taunt edges.

One, Two, Three. I count the tents. Fifteen in total that can easily fit three men or more inside. Bark bites my palms as I press myself into a tree listening. I close my eyes and focus on my Fae half, my new and improved hearing.

One heartbeat.

One.

I open my eyes and scan what I can see. A few fire pits and a few massive piles of odd and end pieces. Must be what they've mainly scavenged from the pirates. Then there, opposite where I stand between two tents draped in red fabric stands two large poles with small platforms