Smolder (Crown of Fae #3) - Sharon Ashwood Page 0,40

“I promise the destination will be the same.”

“No more leaping today.” Leena carefully lifted the battered feline into her arms.

With that, they fell into step behind Mo. It felt good to be moving with purpose again, and with fellow warriors—even if two of them were cats. The Shades had taken this from Morran, too—the simple bond of a common purpose.

He would never take agency or companionship for granted again. Now that his past and memories were coming back, he could look to the future. The idea was new and raw, and he left it alone for the moment. Some matters needed immediate attention.

Surviving this world was a good beginning. Morran soon found he wanted to be on all sides of Leena at once. Too many men regarded her with interest, eyeing her revealing silks with no respect for their ritual purpose. Morran glowered at each reckless fool, noting with satisfaction how quickly they backed away. In between scaring the leering buffoons, he searched every shadow for signs of a threat.

The tomcat, Mo, led them onto a smaller street lined with more modest structures. The crowd thinned considerably, and the buildings had a different feel, as if these places were for living in rather than for businesses. Most had wide porches with a flight of steps down to the street.

He saw a figure descending from one such building, her hand skimming the iron handrail as she ran down the stairs. She was obviously in a hurry, her brown braid swinging behind her. Morran stopped dead, taking a second look. She had cast a glamor over her appearance, but it didn’t hide her lean form and almond eyes.

This was the woman he’d seen in Juradoc’s mirror—the one who knew where Barleycorn was. Sooner rather than later, that was where they’d find Fionn.

Leena stopped and turned. “Morran?”

He debated a moment. No doubt, the cats could identify the origin of the fae spell that had shaken the earth, but that would provide limited information. According to Juradoc, this woman could lead him to Barleycorn. Her cooperation would ensure success.

“Morran?” Leena repeated.

His mind might be damaged, but his gut knew which decision was right.

“Change of plans,” he said, estimating the number of humans on the street. There were a few, but any bystanders were some distance away. There was no chance they’d be overheard.

As she reached the bottom of the stairs, the woman glanced up to see two fae and two cats just paces away and staring directly at her. Her eyes went wide.

“Who are you?” she demanded in a low-pitched, slightly husky voice. While the fae had spells to help them understand foreign speech, she spoke in the language of Faery. She might not know their names, but she knew exactly what they were.

Morran took a step toward her. “We are the friends you were not expecting.”

“Oh, yeah?”

He tried to smile, hoping to appear helpful. “There is trouble here, and we’ve come to stop it.”

Her eyes darted to his belt knife, then to his face. She shifted her weight, getting ready to fight. “You’ll get nothing from me.”

Satisfaction speared Morran. She knew something. Yes, his instincts were working again.

Her fist shot out, unnaturally fast.

14

Morran danced back, cheek tingling with the rush of displaced air. The woman was tall and had a long reach.

Adrenaline surged, awakening long-forgotten instincts. Morran raised his guard, almost eager for more. She recovered and jabbed again, but he was ready—a good thing. She was strong, trained, and knew enough to fight foul, especially with her knees and feet. If he planned to father children, he’d need to end this quickly.

He slid under her guard, using his height and weight to push her into the iron stair rail. Once she was trapped, he was able to pin her arms—barely. Sometimes, it was possible to tangle an opponent in their clothes, but she wore leggings and a short-sleeved tunic that showed tanned, muscular arms. He held her wrists, crossing them at the level of her waist and using his weight to keep her trapped against the handrail. They might have looked like reunited lovers stealing a kiss, though she was obviously willing to bite.

From the corner of his eye, Morran saw Leena put Kifi down. After a brief hesitation, she drew her belt knife. She ran up the stairs with the cats at her heels. The three circled the woman, screening her from the view of potential observers.

The woman clearly understood what was happening. Morran saw her faint frown and the widening