The Lost Fae (The Twisted Crown #3) - A.K. Koonce Page 0,14
on top. Two roughly carved metal gears sit on either pole.
The damn ship parts. Well... Beatrice did well in scouting the camp. It honestly looks remarkably like the image of the map I remember. Now to pinpoint exactly where the single heartbeat is...
The Fae cheer louder as they find Lincoln. An echoing laugh finding its way back to me. But I can't focus on that. Instead I listen to the thump thump of a stranger’s heart. Slow and steady, a few yards away.
In a tent. Fast asleep. I quickly realize. The blood that rushes through their veins moves at a leisurely pace, a small snore coming from their makeshift home.
Perfect.
As if I'm stepping into a pool of water, I ease my foot into the light. Nothing moves, no alarms sound off. I let go of the breath that I held without thinking and force myself forward. Making sure to walk with the sly purpose of a jungle cat, I edge toward the poles. The sticks are double my height, but I'm certain I'll be able to jump that high easily.
On the other half of my consciousness, the side that is somehow always present with Lincoln. I can hear their taunts as they poke and prod at him. He grumbles back, unamused by the entire situation.
In the center of the camp, the grass has been worn away to dirt. Sporadically, there are carved up stumps of trees that have been cut down. I look behind me and curse at the prints that I leave behind in the dust. The imprint of my foot is so much smaller than the wide boot and the occasional bare footprints that circle the fires and weave between the tents.
A fire spit sits with a fresh piece of meat heating over one of the fires. Warmth heats my sides at all angles from the arrangements of burning wood. It flickers menacing shadows that my nervous eyes immediately dart to follow. My pulse quickens, then dies back down as I calm myself down from the non threatening fear.
The Fae untie Lincoln and I know my time is running short. I look up the tall pole, squatting low before I pounce upward and grip the wooden platform, pulling my body weight up and over it. I hold the metal piece, practically rusted, to my chest as I slither on top of it. I lean forward to reach for the other, my fingers brushing the sharp edges--
"What are you doing?" a female voice asks.
I yelp, almost dropping the piece and my hand as I snatch the other one up. My body topples to the side falling from the small wooden platform. Uncurling from my body, my wings catch me, lowering me with a less than eloquent grace.
Genuinely... for a moment, I forgot I had those. Not that I'm sure I know how to use them well if I tried. I'm thankful for them as dirt clouds around my feet.
A girl, dressed in a red flowing top tucked into tight leather pants cocks her head at me, walking sideways to keep me in her dead center. Her full head of grey hair is parted all on one side showing off her round ear covered in piercings.
"What are you doing here?" I cough. "I'm trying to get your ship working so your crew can take me to the queen."
"Those women are not my crew,” she sneers. "They pillage every camp on this tiny island."
"Aren't the Fae stealing from them?" I take a small step back and she follows. My attention settles on her hips, her belt free of any weapons.
They're taking me back to camp. You don't have much time. Lincoln warns. They have yet to notice the dagger stuck in my pant leg and they smell an awful lot like brandy. I don't think it'll be much of an issue for me to cut a few men down and get away.
My time is running out.
"Stealing back," the girl snaps. "Give those back. Barnabus and his crew are only returning what was never Captain Beatrice and her crew’s in the first place."
Why is this human girl here? Did she care so little for her own that she crossed them and ended up here? She paints a much different narrative than Beatrice and Johanna did just hours ago. My stomach turns. What is the truth?
"I can't—I have to go. This is the only way." I wave her off as she steps closer. She'd be a fool to try to attack me. I'm