Chapter Twenty
I was flushed with triumph as I made my way back to the copse of birch trees, especially when Caom hurried up to me and whooped after spotting the tiny black feather nestled against the hollow of my throat. I’d put the necklace on as I walked back, not wanting to risk it falling out of my pocket.
“You sly bastard.” He thumped my shoulder, making me grin. “How on earth did you best the assassin prince?”
I just shrugged as the other Folk present stared at me with narrow eyes.
“Well, this requires atruecelebration.” Caom flung his arm over my shoulders and led me away. “Come to the village tonight for a drink at the tavern.”
I opened my mouth to automatically say no, but stopped myself.
Why shouldn’t I? I’d actually won, fair and square. No manipulation or tricks—unless I counted pinning Lonan’s biceps with my knees, which was a move I’d learned in childish fights at school. I was feeling a bit more confident that I could handle the Folk—that I could manoeuvre my way round their sly words and veiled insults.
“Okay,” I said, smiling over at Caom. “I’ll come.”
“What—really?” He squeezed my shoulder. “That’s wonderful, Ash! Maybe some decent fae wine will shed off your mortal skin—I know you didn’t touch any at the party.”
Unease flared. It was one thing to go into the village and mingle among the Folk. It was another to drink around them.
“I don’t think I’ll have any wine,” I said hesitantly. “But I’ll still come. For a little while.”
“Just a sip,” Caom insisted. “You’ve never had anything like it. Idony was right—the stuff I gave you when you first arrived wasn’t the best. What her sister makes is out of this world. If anything will make you shed your mortal skin, that should surely do it.”
He chuckled, but his words made me frown. If I truly was half fae—if I truly could somehowshed my mortal skin, and that meant I could break the Carlin’s hold keeping me here—then maybe I should try. Even if I didn’t truly believe it would work. After winning against Lonan, I felt just a little more in control. Of my life, of what could happen to me here.
“Okay,” I said. “Maybe just a sip.”
I was trying very hard to enjoy myself, because deep down, I knew I couldn’t just hide away forever in my cottage. The Carlin wouldn’t let me.
Deeper down, where it hurt to think about, I knew I was going to be stuck here forever. The kelpie never showed his face in any of the lakes on unseelie land. I’d had a sip of Idony’s sister’s wine—not just a sip, I’d had a cup before switching to water—and it had done nothing.
For a brief, stupid moment, I’d thought it could work. Caom had put the cup in front of me after we’d found a table outside the tavern, and I’d stared into it, at the shimmering red liquid with its silver sheen.
I’d read in books as a kid that fae wine and food was supposed to be like ambrosia to mortals. That was why it was so dangerous. You got addicted, and then everything else tasted like ash once you’d tried it.
But it hadn’t tasted like that to me. I’d had a sip, Caom watching closely, and it had just tasted like sweet red wine. Cloyingly sweet. I’d forced myself not to wince as I licked my lips, smiling hesitantly at him and setting down the cup.
He’d sighed in disappointment, but quickly grown distracted when Idony thumped down into the chair beside him and informed him that she was cashing in on her favour. She’d won their match, and she was making him buy all her drinks for the night.
Belial and a few others had joined us soon after, and now I was sat at a table of raucous drunk Folk, trying very hard to feel like I could ever fit in.
I took a sip of water from my cup, eyes drifting over to the windows. I was glad we were sitting outside, because it looked like chaos within the tavern. Folk danced drunkenly between tables, shrieking and laughing hysterically when they crashed into others and spilled their drinks.
A huge, troll-like creature took up an entire table to himself in the corner, scowling at anyone who got close and yanking his gigantic tankard closer with a massive, meaty fist to protect it from being knocked over.
The group of fox fae were in there, playing darts and trying to draw others into games that were no doubt rigged. Two of the willowy, black-haired women I’d seen in the trooping procession that had stolen me from my home stumbled out onto the street, singing in sweet, dulcet tones despite almost falling over drunk.
“So, you sly half-mortal.” Caom slapped me on the back, making me jump and drawing my attention back to the table. “You never told me how you bested the prince.”
I shrugged uncomfortably, glancing around, grateful when I realised no one else was listening. Idony was gazing adoringly at Belial, who was deep in conversation with the tall, goat-faced woman beside him.
I cleared my throat, but rather than tell him, I said, “Younever told me he can turn into a crow.”
“Oh.” Caom paused, then shrugged. “Had I not mentioned that? Sorry. I didn’t think. It’s not exactly a secret.”
Licking my lips, I fiddled with my cup of water, spinning it slowly on the wooden tabletop. “Can he… can he change into anything else?”
He’d said he wasn’t the cat or the wolf, but I couldn’t remember his exact words now. Had he outright denied it? Or twisted the truth so he wouldn’t have to?