“No.”
His lips quirked but he didn’t smile. “Have you shaken off any lingering effects? Or do you need something so you’re clearheaded for your meeting?”
“You mean from thepoisonyou gave me?” I snarled, wishing my hands were free so I could punch him in the face.
“Yes.”
I was momentarily stunned by his flat tone. His total lack of remorse, or even sheepishness at being confronted. He just stared at me patiently, waiting.
I flattened my lips. “I’m not meeting her.”
His head cocked just a little, black brows drawing together. “Yes you are.”
“He means he doesn’t want to,” Caom supplied, and Belial’s face cleared.
“Ah. Well. That’s irrelevant. Let’s get you down from the cart.” He looked at Caom again. “Will you help me, Caom?”
The two of them hoisted me onto my feet in the dirt, my face on fire with indignation.
“Are you going to untie me?” I bit out, glaring between the two Folk. Idony sat silent in the cart, staring at Belial in a lovesick stupor.
“If Caom felt the need to bind your hands, I doubt it would be wise for me to untie you just yet.” Belial took my arm in his long-fingered grip. “Let’s go.”
“We’ll find you after!” Caom called after me as Belial led me away, seeming entirely unbothered by how much I struggled in his grip.
Why were all these Folk sofucking strong?
“Seriously, what’s going on?” I was panting with anxiety. “Why does the Carlin want to meet me? Why does she want me on her land?”
“She will tell you everything she wishes,” was all he said as he led me past the other Folk in the trooping procession.
The two slender, black-haired women whispered as I passed. A gaggle of short, spindly creatures with needle-sharp teeth grinned up at me, looking bloodthirsty. One of them let out a sharp shriek. I jumped violently when three booming, bloodcurdling barks vibrated through my head. A hound with shaggy, dark green fur and a long, braided tail leapt out of the procession and lumbered towards us. I huddled closer to Belial without even thinking about it.
The dog was huge—larger than a cow—and its eyes glowed white with rage as it snarled at the gaggle of sharp-toothed creatures. They snapped back but vanished with squeals of terror.
Up ahead, a tall, long-limbed man wearing a black coat and wide-brimmed hat stepped out of the procession. When he whistled sharply, the monstrous dog reluctantly slunk back to his side.
I exhaled a trembling breath and saw Belial glance over at me with questioning eyes.
“You have seen some of our kind before, yes?” he asked, still gripping my arm as he led me down the long line of waiting Folk.
“S-some.”
I stared fearfully when we passed the giant hound and its master, who was idly petting the colossal dog with a pale green hand as he smoked a long clay pipe, his face hidden in shadows under the brim of his hat. I felt his eyes on me as we passed.
Belial made a dismissive sound. “Well, you don’t have to worry about Ankou and his hound. Not yet, anyway.”
“What does that mean?” I asked breathlessly.
“His hound appears as the omen of death for Folk. Then Ankou comes to take the dead away.”
Christ. That guy was the Grim Reaper for the Folk? I shuddered and kept my head down, not wanting to see any more.
“Don’t be afraid, Ash.”
I didn’t answer Belial, because what was the point?
“Just be respectful when you meet the Carlin,” he continued, pitching his voice lower. “Do not speak first. Do not look her in the eye until she allows it. Donotdraw the attention of her sons. You want that even less.”