The Lost Fae (The Twisted Crown #3) - A.K. Koonce Page 0,17

exhausting. I need a night’s rest before I give it another go."

"How do you know which way to go? And you don't look tired to me..."

He holds up a finger. "First of all, Briar Anders or should I say Briar Nightwaters, I can smell you. Everything you touched on the way here left behind the slightest trace of your scent."

I scrunch my nose at the thought and pray that I leave behind a pleasant aroma.

He holds up two fingers. "Secondly, adrenaline... is still pumping." He nods his head as finishes his sentence.

"So could Barnabus and the rest of the Fae smell me...? Could they have caught a trail like a hunting dog?" I offer a shy smile, tucking back the loose strands of honey brown hair from my face. Lincoln eats it up watching me with mischief dancing in his eyes.

"I mean, yes. If they stopped and thought about it they totally could have."

"And what do I smell like...?"

"Cinnamon," he says it so quickly it's as if he knew the question was coming.

"How spicy." I laugh. "Cinnamon makes me sneeze."

Lincoln twists and turns through the trees, the forest just as quiet as it was before we found the traps. I recognize the grouping of trees and pause. Ziko stops just a step away, his attention spanning the ground.

"Did you... is this...? You hid them under leaves?"

The scattered 'leaves' I'd tossed over them now looks much more like decay and dirt. Every place my foot drug them over the metal is a line scraped in the mud... like arrows pointing to my little hiding spot.

Lincoln squats and plucks them from the small hole. "Shit. I hope these rusty pieces will do the trick."

A rough wave of guilt washes over me all over again as I look at the parts clutched against his chest. I trail behind him without a word as he moves back toward the sandy beach. I keep my face turned down, lost in the tornado of thoughts and the image of the pirate woman, Ellie, falling unconscious. And it wasn't in the sweet way Lincoln did it. It was by the brash nervous reaction of my elbow.

"What's wrong?" Lincoln's voice is gentle as it enters through my thoughts.

"Nothing."

"Oh, it's something." He doesn't turn but in the dark I can see him tap his temple.

"If you already know then why are you asking?"

"It can help to process something out loud."

A slight trembling breath passes my lips. "She was in the way. She wasn't going to let me take them. I just want to get home."

"She's alive you know."

I know that. I knew that in the moment, too. She's breathing just as everyone else is. And it is likely that she'll wake up long before anyone else does. She'll be confused... concussed... and nursing a wicked headache.

"Still, I feel terrible. I didn't mean to do it."

Bugs chirp, oblivious of us until I bring my foot down roughly and crack a twig with my heel. The static white noise of the waves hitting rhythmically against the shore isn't far off. The pirates waiting for our victory that much closer.

"And that, Briar, is what makes you better. You have a moral compass." I stay close enough to him as he talks that if I reach out, I could brush the stubs of his wings. Lincoln's following sigh blends in with the crash of waves. All smiles faded to a solemn expression. "You did what you had to do in the moment. Don't dwell on it. But don't let yourself forget it either. You'll make a good queen, Briar."

"You really think so?"

"Yes."

Stars dot the sky now, the moon taking its position above us. Even from the edge of the forest I can see a pirate perched in the crow’s nest, scanning the beach with a long scope drawn up to their eye. The lens quickly stills on us and she practically drops the telescope as she leans over the edge and calls to her fellow crew members.

I turn to Ziko and study his face. The peaks of his features highlighted with the moon-cast shadows across half his face. Even the stars reflect in the pool of his eyes. He can taste my questions. He knows the words stuck behind my teeth, waiting for me to say them. Focused on me, he dares me to say them too.

"And do you think you'll be a good king?" I finally whisper, quieter than the noise of the night.

"I am no king."

Ziko hardly moves. I edge a

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