Spin the Shadows (Dark and Wicked Fae #1) - Cate Corvin Page 0,74
Brightkin’s hand brushing the wall, leaving this small sign of his passage. With renewed determination, I kept going downwards, until pale roots began to sprout from the ceiling overhead.
Doors began to appear, some warped, some bound with iron. The Solitary Fae lived down here, away from both Seelie and Unseelie Garda; I caught sight of a robed goblin who slinked away as I passed.
There was another streak of violet evanesce smeared against the wall. I began to hurry again, daring to run on the solid floor.
Then one of the doors opened ahead of me. Several tall Fae stepped into the passage, their voices echoing down the hall. They were big enough that their heads nearly brushed the ceiling.
They were rough Fae, wearing leather and denim. Spikes curled out of the skull of one with cerulean hair, and another wore a ring of iron pierced through his septum, permanently burning his nose and lips.
But the last one nearly brought me up short.
Gwyn’s caramel hair spilled over his shoulders like gold in the lamplight. He didn’t look friendly; a scowl seemed engraved on his face. At his side, a sleek white dog that was nearly as big as me sat obediently, its red eyes glowing with internal flames. Its ears were scarlet and pointed.
These were the Wild Hunters. They looked like the sort of Fae I should run away from as fast as possible.
Instead, I kept plowing forward. The blue-haired male looked up as I barreled towards them, following the evanesce with single-minded purpose.
“Move!” I barked.
Maybe they weren’t used to rough-up nereids shrieking like banshees as they ran at them, but the redhead actually did move, right before I was about to plow into him.
I felt the spikes on his jacket scratch my arm as I passed but didn’t stop. All I did was slap my hand on the dirt wall, injecting a small seed into the earth. There was no time to stop and mince words.
I heard the groan of stone being displaced by a root as I sprinted, leaving the sound far behind me. Hopefully Gwyn got the message.
The tunnel twisted, curving downwards, but there was a faint streak of evanesce where Brightkin must’ve leaned against the wall. I slowed, a stitch in my side, panting for breath.
It was much fainter, the violet shimmer barely visible against the stone. My trail was going cold.
I took a deep breath and clutched my side, willing the stitch to vanish, and spun around when I heard footsteps.
Gwyn looked down at me, confusion all over his pretty face. “Briallen?”
The white dog was with him, panting as it dropped its head and glared at me, and the blue-haired Wild Hunter was right behind him, shaking his hair out of his eyes. “What is this, ap Nudd?”
I looked up at Gwyn pleadingly. “It’s me, Gwyn. I need your help.”
He took a step closer, examining me like he was looking right through the glamour. “Why are you glamoured like this?”
The cerulean Fae shoved his hands in his pockets. “And what are you willing to give us in exchange for our help?”
He leered at me, and Gwyn’s lip curled.
I was so used to the smiles from Gwyn that seeing him genuinely angry was… a little frightening. Somehow I kept forgetting what he was, that no Fae survived in the Wild Hunt by being soft-hearted.
“She’s not giving us anything in exchange,” Gwyn said shortly. He stepped closer and saw the blood. “Are you hurt?”
“It’s not mine.” I swiped impatiently at the blood. “Robin’s hurt. I need to find Br- I’m looking for someone, and the trail is about gone. I’m following the evanesce he left behind.” Tears of frustration tried to well up, and I blinked them away furiously. “Please, Gwyn. I know he went this way.”
He straightened up, his jaw set. “Hellekin, you can go back. I’ll take it from here.”
Hellekin gave him an incredulous look through his cobalt eyelashes. “You don’t give the orders here, ap Nudd.”
Gwyn ignored him completely. “Briallen, this is Ceri. He’s a cŵn annwn. He’ll be able to track your prey. Ceri. Come.”
The white dog padded forward, moving as gracefully as a panther. His back was level with my hips.
“Hold out your hand,” Gwyn told me softly. I did as ordered, and Gwyn held my wrist. “Friend.”
Ceri crept closer and sniffed my hand, his pointed scarlet ears perked straight up.
Then Gwyn pointed to the smear of evanesce on the wall and said something in a language I’d never heard before.