The Forgotten Crown

Chapter Six

They packed up the campsite just as light peeked over the horizon. Jovah wouldn't let Morana touch anything, so she leaned against a tree and watched the fae roll up the cots and load up the horses. The smell of pine pulsed through the air as Alastair glamoured them.

When it wasn't used to threaten her, she had to admit the stuff was fascinating. It differed from the spells Lydia used. This stuff reeked of raw power. It wasn't diluted like much of human magick. It came directly from the source. Jovah didn't need to use a spellbook to cast his flames.

She studied the way the mist formed around the two of them, changing their appearances as it soaked into their skin. Morana didn't know how magick worked, only that it blessed the fae blood. Legends claimed it was the goddess of life and magick, Oddea, who breathed those powers into her children the very moment they were born. Perhaps Morana's tainted blood had displeased the goddess.

As she climbed into Jovah's saddle, she wondered what things she would do with that magick. She'd probably turn herself into a dragon and swallow both fae alive.

Morana forced herself to eat despite a lack of appetite. She had to keep her strength. She had made that decision that night as she lay awake. Morana Stavenger would not be a prisoner or a slave or whatever these fae wanted her to be.

She spent the next two days observing.

She wasn't familiar with the roads in Ellesmere, but she imagined the main one wouldn't take them through dense forests and down narrow ravine trails. So, Jovah chose uncommon paths to avoid contact with other travelers. He often looked at a crisp map, which he kept in his pocket. She'd tried to peek at it a few times, but he always kept it just out of sight.

The fae took turns sleeping at night. They also alternated glamouring. Perhaps there was a limit to that magick. If she drained it, maybe she'd stand a chance. No—they'd taken her down with sheer strength alone in her apartment. The alcohol hindered her ability to fight then, but despite that, she wouldn't last long in a brawl sober. If Jovah's magick drained suddenly, Alastair would be far more of an issue. They would surely figure out what she was doing before she got the chance to escape. Did Alastair have his own magick like Jovah possessed his fire? She wouldn't risk finding out.

"Morana?"

She blinked and then turned to Alastair riding next to her. "What?"

His brows creased. "I asked if you were tired."

"Why do you care?"

"We're almost to Greenpeak," it was Jovah who responded. He turned to face her. "We'll be staying the night there, so you can clean that dirt off of you." He spoke as if she was the only one who had spent days without bathing as if the men didn't smell far worse than she did. "Don't get any clever ideas. Greenpeak doesn't have wielders to protect its people."

Her cheeks turned red. He would demolish an entire village, with elderly and children inside, to keep her in line. The monster.

"When we arrive," he went on, "you are to stay quiet. If someone addresses you, kindly ignore them. I will do the talking. We'll stay the night and be out first thing in the morning. Understood?"

"Understood."

Pink painted the clouds by the time they reached the village. Greenpeak was much smaller than she expected. Ramshackle huts, a tavern, and a church scattered within a crumbling stone wall. The place could have passed for a ruin. Morana saw no one on the dirt path that wound through the town. A few lights in some windows were the only signs of life. Copper light posts illuminated the street as blackness spread across the sky.