Chapter 8

Coryfe picked his way through the trees like a child picking their way through a meal. I could not blame him. The floor was thick with undergrowth that hid hazardous roots and dips, and every now and again, an unexpected explosion of brethren folk would be unsettled by our passage. He had almost shied twice now at such an occurrence; once when little sprites that had exploded from a bush he had brushed against, their gossamer dragon-fly wings whipping against us as they passed, and the second time when a scurry of fur-clad beings I did not get a good look at had raced across our path, pursued by a fox that stopped and looked at us with too wise, unafraid blue eyes.

Rivyn was less patient. “Have you never ridden this horse across anything other than a road or field?” He demanded, reaching around to claim the reins from me. I held them out of his reach, and he blew out a frustrated breath.

“He isn’t my horse, he is my father’s,” I replied. “How is it that your magic was stolen?”

“None of your business.”

“You made it my business when you stole me,” I pointed out.

He considered that. “I angered the wrong person, and this is my punishment,” he replied after a long moment. It sounded like a Fae punishment, I thought. I wondered who he had angered and how.

“I’m sorry,” I was. His misfortune had resulted in my predicament. “So, what do you need to do to reclaim it?”

“I need to rebuild enough magic to destroy the artifact in which my power has been trapped,” he said it as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“And how do you rebuild magic?”

“You ask a lot of questions.”

“And you don’t provide enough answers.” I peeked into my bag at the fairy man. He was asleep. “Where were you headed when I found you?”

“I wasn’t,” he shifted on the saddle, bringing his thighs closer to mine. I felt the heat crawl through me and hoped I had not reddened in a way that he would notice. “I was escaping from somewhere. But I do have another book I need to retrieve.”

“Can you cast another flashy portal and send us back to where we were?” I wondered.

“Why would I want to do that?” He was confused by the question.

“To return me to where you stole me from?” I suggested. “This has been an interesting adventure, but I’d like to return to my journey, now, please.”

“I need you,” he replied. “I cannot return you.”

“Why do you need me?” I glanced over my shoulder at him, frowning.

“Well, you have a horse, for starters,” he pointed out, his beautiful face amused by my presumption that he would return me now that he had stolen me.

“You can’t just go around stealing people for their horses.”

“I’m considering it borrowing,” he said barely suppressing his laughter. A sharp retort was on my lips when he stiffened against me. “Smoke,” he pointed above the trees, distracting me. “Do you see?”

“Yes,” I could see it, just, above the foliage. “We should be cautious,” I told him, stopping Coryfe and sliding from the saddle. “Not all who light fires are of mankind.”

“True,” he dismounted with athletic grace, landing lightly and tossing back his dark hair. “But that isn’t necessarily a bad thing. Either way, they might know where we are.”

“I’ll go look.”

“Why you?”

I shot him a look. “You have never hunted.”

“I have,” he scowled. “Frequently, in fact.”

“Not on foot,” I observed. “Or you’d be able to move through the forest quieter. You are like a...”

“Like a what?” he arched a brow.

I did not have an example that I would dare give – none of them were complimentary. “You aren’t quiet.”

“I can be quiet,” he was offended.

“Fine,” I retorted. “You go and see what’s ahead.” I crossed my arms and raised an eyebrow at him.

“Fine, I will,” he strode off in the direction of the smoke, his long legs eating up the distance swiftly. For a while, I could make out the midnight blue of his cloak and the darkness of his hair through the foliage, and then he stepped between two trees and went beyond my sight.

I could hear him however, the crack of twigs underfoot, the rustle of dead leaves, and a curse word drifted back. I smothered a laugh, imagining that he had tripped on a root, or his cloak had become snagged on a branch. Where-ever he had come from, despite his proclamations otherwise, he quite clearly had not spent his time in the forest hunting.

A city, I thought, from the soles of his boots and his manner. Somewhere sophisticated and urbane. He was muscular and strong, but his palms were not heavily calloused, and his mannerisms were of someone of wealth and superiority.

I looked at Coryfe. “I could just...” I could just ride away, abandoning the mage to his quest. But I sighed. The mage was right. He needed me. I had never been needed before and it had appeal that to him I was useful rather than a burden.

I made myself comfortable and ate an apple whilst I waited. The fairy man crawled out of my bag and sat, holding on to the strap, with the air of someone as bored as I was, biding time waiting for the mage’s return. “What do you think?” I asked him. “Have we given him long enough to get into trouble?”