Hunted by a Night Fae

Chapter 22

As we neared the Ashthorne castle, I noticed how few homes there were, if they could even be called that. They were rounded little caves that lead underground, with only a small door to distinguish them. I had always pictured a castle and the area around it as a place filled with life and the thrum of people as they came and went—at least in the books and movies back home. But this place seemed abandoned—like over time it had been lost.

"Who lives here?"

"Goblins," Ronan answered quietly like he feared someone might hear him. "High goblins. They do not look much different from high fae, as you will see, but they have their own... special quirks."

I knew of goblins, but the image that came to mind was of Everard with his large knobby head and long pointed ears. It was hard to imagine them looking anything like Ronan or Eirian.

A fit of coughs racked my body, and my head pounded. I could tell Ronan was looking at me, but he said nothing.

"Quirks, you say, like terrible personalities? I'm starting to think that's pretty universal out here."

"Yes," Ronan agreed, not quite catching the jibe. "Their personalities are horrible. The princess, Eaven, is tolerable, but Prince Theodan is completely unreasonable. It does not help that he sees me as some kind of...competition."

We reached a drawbridge, the entire thing covered in a layer of thick frost. We paused before crossing, looking up at the castle walls. This close I could see it wasn't only icy, but made entirely of ice. The light caught and refracted through the shards, creating the illusion of diamonds encrusting the high points. Long icicles dangled over the entrance into the courtyard, poised to fall and impale those who dared tread underneath them.

Nea jolted forward. He made easy work of the slippery drawbridge.

"If they are so unlikable, then why are we here?"

Ronan drew us into the empty courtyard. He dismounted and then stood. Snow stuck in his wild dark curls, catching on the long lashes that framed his severe eyes. He looked out of place in the snow. It was too gentle and soft, the flakes melting before they met his skin.

He held out a hand so that I could use it to help myself down. Once he placed me on my feet, I staggered forward but caught myself before falling against his chest.

He looked down at me with a frown, then moved back, steadying me with a hand on my shoulder.

"Because it is the only place in the Ashthorne Mountains where we are safe. You are sick, and even if Theodan does not care for me, he cannot deny us if I request his help."

Before I could reply, I heard a door bang open across the yard. Ronan dropped his arm from me. Nea shifted and grunted behind us, and Ronan moved to him. He placed a hand on the side of the horse and Nea immediately settled down.

Nea, it seemed, didn't like anyone who wasn't Ronan. I didn't exactly feel sympathetic for the foul-tempered horse.

I followed Ronan's gaze, not missing how his expression had steeled over from a moment ago. He reminded me more of the fae that had fought in the Wild Hunt at that moment than the man who had been confused and concerned trying to deal with his sick human wife. I knew there was more to him than that, as he had shown me out in the mountains, but the shift in his demeanor still had me crossing my arms over my chest.

My eyes caught on the two figures approaching us, and I did a double take. I had seen many different kinds of fae so far in Faerie—but nothing like them.

Walking toward us were a beautiful man and woman. The male was striking in a way I had never seen before. His pale complexion nearly blended in with the snow, and his silver hair slung down in a long braid. He moved elegantly, his tall, lithe frame gliding across the snowy courtyard. Thick spun robes of a light grey swept down from his arms and dusted the ground as he walked.