dust if I cross the threshold?”
Lady Aisling frowned in impatience. “You aren’t trying. Your friends cannot come with you. They will perish if they enter—there are far too many hoch alfar running around trying to kill or enslave Shifters. I had to exert myself for them the last time, remember? Only you can evade the bloody hoch alfar. Excuse my language.”
Ben swallowed. “Me?”
“Yes, you. Haven’t you been listening?”
“Mmm.” Ben folded his arms, suddenly far too cold. “I’m not sure about this.”
The Shifters had gathered around him again. “Ben,” they chorused.
Tamsin patted his shoulder. “If Lady Aisling says it’s okay, then it’s okay.”
“Yes,” Jaycee put in. “She’ll protect you.”
Lady Aisling frowned. “Well, I didn’t say that.”
Ben barely heard her. Her words drifted into the increasingly chilly air, which wrapped itself around Ben and dragged him forward. He held his breath, closed his eyes, muttered inside his head, What the hell. I can only die once. Right? and plunged through the door.
Peigi wasn’t quite certain what Cian had been saying, but Stuart suddenly went still, any enjoyment he might have gained hanging out in this bar in dokk alfar territory sucked out of him.
“What is it?” she whispered to him.
Stuart shook his head. He said something more to Cian, who also shook his head.
“Stuart.”
Stuart turned to her. “I agree we need to talk about all this. Somewhere private.”
Peigi glanced across the table. “With them?”
Michael focused on her with unnerving suddenness. “What are you whispering about? I know every signal you make, woman.”
True, Peigi had lived with the lout for twenty-five years, and he could read the smallest nuance of her body language. It also meant she knew him very well too.
“Trying to decide if you can help or if you’re dead weight,” Peigi said calmly.
She shook inside to say it, but she met his gaze. Another thing Nell had taught her—be scared, sure, but never admit it to the alpha trying to intimidate you.
Michael immediately grew offended. “Of course I can help. Anything to punch the high Fae bastards in the gut.”
“Yeah,” Crispin said. “I’ll help too.” His smirk indicated he’d do anything but.
“And someone needs to keep him in line.” Michael jerked his thumb at Crispin. “And alive so I can disembowel him when we get home.”
Stuart sent Peigi a sidewise glance, but she remained serene. She’d known exactly how to keep Michael from turning on them—appeal to his sense of vanity that he’d be useless in this situation, an appendage. Michael always wanted to be in charge.
“Finish up then.” Stuart drained his second glass of gularain without blinking. Michael gave him a baleful look, glanced at the drops in his glass, and pretended to ignore them.
Crispin took a final delicate sip, and then Cian rose to lead them out.
Dusk had fallen, but the crowd in the square didn’t show any signs of thinning. Lights pricked the darkness, more and more springing up as they walked. Laughter spilled from other taverns, along with more drumming and singing. Stalls with goods were shutting up, but those serving food or drink did brisk business.
Stuart insisted Michael and Crispin follow directly behind Cian, which they did willingly. Michael liked the lead position, which allowed him to keep his eye on Cian and also Crispin. Stuart and Peigi brought up the rear, keeping an eye on the two male Shifters.
Stuart said nothing as they walked, which Peigi understood. Too many ears, and they couldn’t be certain that none understood human languages. Her heart constricted with worry, wondering what Cian had said to sway Stuart into staying, or at least staying for a while.
They strode from the square through busy streets lined with shops and warehouses, each painted in bright colors, some sporting awnings of broad colored stripes.
Passers-by stared at the Shifters, but like the patrons in the tavern, they didn’t faint at the sight of them. Shifters were unusual, Peigi concluded, but not wholly unknown. Meaning the dokk alfar had been in contact with Shifters and learned enough about them to know they weren’t dangerous unless threatened. Well, except for Michael, who enjoyed being dangerous, and Crispin, who had attacked on command from a high Fae.
The presence of Cian seemed to reassure all, however. The dokk alfar watched, but they went about their business.
Stuart, on the other hand, received many blatant stares of curiosity and perplexity. I was told to find a dokk alfar who dressed in the weirdest clothes I could imagine, Cian’s female warrior, who had stayed behind in the tavern, had said.