would you pay for his name and a warning?” The free sidhe grinned even wider, his irises firing in the gloom, a glow no mortal would see unless they were near to shuffling off their living coil. “Or will you hurry along now that you have your little baubles for Her Majesty?”
Baubles. As if he doesn’t know what’s in these. Robin folded her arms defensively. “I don’t think you have anything of value. I might even suspect you of setting the Unseelie on me; isn’t that a free sidhe’s favorite pastime?”
His face fell. The gleams of his eyes filled with more dangerous sparkling, though, a foxfire that a mortal might be led by. “You wound me, darling Robin. We share a name or two, and I was your guardian into Summer. You should be more charitable.”
His right-hand fingers now played with the leather-wrapped daggerhilt. Robin kept those extra-jointed fingers in sight, and backed up still more. Her earrings warmed slightly, the golden hoops brushing her cheeks. “I am charitable, free sidhe. I’m not singing.” She edged out into the street.
No, the Ragged could guess why Ilara had left, and kept the knowledge close in case it should be useful later. The Feathersalt’s lover Braghn Moran, tall and fair-haired, had been ensnared by Summer herself, and was now wasting away for want of the Queen’s affection. Summer had taken another into her favor, fickle as always, and perhaps Ilara disliked to see the wreck of her former paramour. And Sean, poor Sean…
Her throat threatened to close. Pay attention, Robin. Now she had to step over the border into Summer soon, or Goodfellow would carry tales. If he did and someone listened, Robin might be trapped at Court until the Queen decided to send her on another thankless mission.
The next one might not end so well.
“His name is Gallow.” Goodfellow leaned back against the wall, hooking his thumbs in the woven-leather belt. A show of disdain or relaxation, or both. “He has not been moved to take an interest in a sidhe in many a long year. I wonder why he did so for you, my dove?”
Gallow? What an ill-starred name. “Perhaps he thought the rider was hunting him.” It was pale, inadequate, and as a parrying blow, very much not up to her usual standards.
Goodfellow regarded her narrowly. His expression softened, just a fraction. “You are shaken, and white as milk. Come, I know a place you may gather yourself, and—”
And place me under an obligation? I think not, mischievous one. “No, though your kindness is more than I deserve.” A pretty, empty phrase to match his own. Gallow, Gallow… Have I heard that name? Not that I can recall.
“Robin.” He sounded serious now, his even, light tenor tinted brown as bark. “I mean you no harm.” The tone dropped, became intimate. “I have never meant thee harm.”
Ever since she had surfaced from the pond and seen him crouching near her clothes, regarding her with bright interest, he had been in the habit of making such comments. There was a time she had been mortal-stupid, and thought perhaps he meant them—but caution had been ingrained in her even then.
Male meant danger. Any girl raised in the trailer parks absorbed that warning early and well.
“Oh, certainly not.” The sarcasm dripping from her words could have turned the slow drizzling rain to ice. She retreated even further, but he made no move. “Would you have taken my sister to Summer, too, had I begged thee harder?”
His face closed like a door. “Mortal is as mortal does. She was lucky to be left in this pale realm. Tell me, how is your changeling friend? Still warming the Queen’s bed, and yours still cold?”
It actually hurt below her breastbone, the dart striking true and a bite of disgust that he would think her so crass as to use a mortal child so. Still, she had not survived Court by allowing her face to show every wounding word.
“Warm enough, Robin Goodfellow,” she heard herself say. “Warm and wide enough, but you’ll never know.”
With that, she fled. She did not aim for the entry point so near to this alley. Let the free sidhe carry all the tales he would. Robin Ragged had decided, between one breath and the next, to have further words with this green-eyed Gallow.
TERRITORY TO BE GAINED
10
Summer exhaled sleepily, under an indigo canopy gemmed with strengthening stars. A white tower rose, its sides pierced with slender windows, and in one, a golden gleam