The Abyss (Fae's Captive #7) - Lily Archer Page 0,27

looking up into my wounded male’s eyes, I see the same haze. He’s struggling. Spires, I’m struggling. I’d like nothing more than to make the beast with two backs right here, and right now, but I can’t. Not yet. Instead, I soothe Gareth with kisses and affection, giving him the sort of love I’ve wished for my whole life. And what’s more, he returns it tenfold.

I gently coax him off me and snuggle with him under the glittering stars. When I doze off, I know I’m safe. And more than that, I know I’m loved.

“I hate these vines.” I eye them as we ride through the strange jungle. The dunes are far behind us, and we’ve been climbing up a steady incline for the past two days. One more day, and we’ll be at the end of the world, and hopefully, one with no deadly greenery. “I mean, what did these stupid vines want with me anyway? It’s not like they can eat me. What was their leafy plan?”

“Maybe they wanted to make you their queen.” Iridiel leans down to sniff the mare in front of us. Again.

I smack his side. “Keep your nose off her.”

“Don’t be a boner-buffer.” He flips his perfect mane as the mare looks back at him.

Chastain guffaws. “A boner-buffer. Why is it that unicorns are the cleverest, yet filthiest of all beasts?”

“Jealous?” Iridiel sneers.

Chastain shrugs. “You’re such beautiful creatures, but then you speak.”

I turn and look back at Parnon. He lifts his chin at me in acknowledgement. Ever since the vines attacked, he’s been more watchful of me. I know why. He already lost the two changelings he was closest to. If he lost me—well, I don’t want to think about it. I give him a little wave and turn back around.

“Generally, I’d be happy to rip the limbs off any male who watches you as closely as Parnon. But he’s different.” Gareth’s low rumble vibrates through me. “He’s afraid.”

“I know. He’s like this hulking hardass. But underneath, there’s so much pain.”

“Eldra and Nemar hit him hard.” Chastain gives a heavy sigh. “Hit us all hard, if I’m being honest. They were true friends, great warriors, and had hearts almost as big as Parnon’s. They were—” He stops speaking abruptly, emotion choking his words.

I blink a few times, fighting back the wetness in my eyes. Gareth squeezes my hands, the reins in my grip. I rest against him. Sorrow is a heavy load, one that can only lighten with time.

We ride for the rest of the day, the road winding its way through the low, twisted trees and the sea of greenery. The vines keep their distance, but I still give them dirty looks often. The sun has just set when a whistle from up ahead brings us all to a halt. It’s a warning sound from one of our scouts.

Gareth tenses and wraps an arm around my waist, the other going to his sword.

Chastain tucks his light hair behind his pointy ears, then cocks his head to listen. The jungle has been eerily quiet ever since we entered it, but now it carries an unsettled feeling. The silence a presence, one that watches and waits.

Iridiel stamps a hoof, and I stroke his mane. “Calm,” I whisper.

“Something’s coming.” Chastain draws his sword, as do all our companions. “Something big.”

Parnon’s heavy steps come from behind as he walks to the front of our company, his fists already up.

Iridiel lifts his nose, then exhales hard. “Trolls.”

“Trolls don’t bother travelers.” Chastain slides from his unicorn and joins Parnon. “They keep to themselves, for the most part.”

“They aren’t alone. Someone is controlling them.” Iridiel sniffs again. “High fae.”

“I know of only one whose magic can control others in such a fashion.” Chastain brandishes his sword, aggression in his stance. “Zatran.”

The ground begins to tremble, the vines retreating as thumping sounds push through the humid air.

Gareth kisses my crown, then slides off Iridiel.

“Hey.” I make to follow him, but he grips my thigh.

“Stay here. I need to know you’re safe.” Turning to Iridiel, he says, “Keep her out of danger, and I’ll give you the entire stock of waterberries we have left.”

“That’s a good deal, but do you think we could bargain for me mounting that sweet kitty you turn into when—”

“Iridiel!” Gareth’s tone is almost as thunderous as the footsteps coming toward us.

“Fine, waterberries. Deal.” He snorts as magic sizzles between them.

“I will return.” Gareth stalks toward the front of our little caravan. “Blade and hand-to-hand fighters to the