Chapter 29
His first impression of the human realm was the smell.
Shining Ones. What is that?
Cuan inhaled deeply, without conscious volition. Scents sparkled through him. The glorious symphony separated into individual notes.
Rosemary and bay. Tarragon and sage. Bread, oak, honey, apple…
And there were other things too, that he couldn’t even begin to identify. Something black and bitter but somehow invigorating; something else sharp and clear, almost like peppermint tea but earthier, richer. And something that he would have called lemon, save that the word was laughably inadequate for the way a single breath of it seemed to contain the distilled essence of an entire grove of summer-drenched trees.
And underpinning it all, like the base note in the finest perfume, was Tamsin.
That faint, indefinable scent surrounded him like an embrace. He should have been on guard, poised for action—but instead he found his knotted muscles relaxing.
Home,that scent whispered to the deepest, most secret parts of his soul. Home.
Angus yapped and wriggled free from his arms. Without so much as a backward glance, he trotted over to a ceramic water bowl. Noisy lapping commenced.
With some difficulty, Cuan untangled himself from his intimate embrace with a fallen rocking chair. In his haste, he’d launched himself through the portal full-tilt, without so much as a glance at where he was going. He’d intended to hit the ground in a rolling dive and come up on his feet, ready to face any enemy.
Rocking chairs had not featured in this plan.
He set the chair back upright, carefully. It was looking somewhat worse the wear for going toe-to-toe with a fae warrior, but at least he hadn’t smashed it into splinters. He looked around.
Kitchen. I am in Tamsin’s kitchen.
That explained the avalanche of smells. She had enough spices to supply a small coven of witches through an entire year of rituals. Even though they were sealed, his nose was sensitive enough to pick out all the ghostly traces of scent from when they had last been opened.
Astonished, he ran a finger down the ranks of glass containers. He had always known that Tamsin was a queen, but he hadn’t realized that she was literally a queen in her own world. But what else could explain such a casual display of extravagant wealth?
Saffron. She has saffron. An entire jar of it!
Shaking his head in disbelief, he picked up a larger container, from which one of the mystery scents emanated. Opening the lid, he found it was full of some kind of small, dark bean. Their black, bitter scent shot straight up his sinuses and sank hooks into his mind.
For the love of the Shining Ones. He pinched the bridge of his nose, fighting back a sudden intense desire to bury it in the fragrant beans. You are meant to be infiltrating enemy territory on a desperate, deadly mission. Not rolling in scent like a hound in fox scat.
Cuan screwed the lid back on the jar, not without regret. He did not, however, replace it on the counter.
Tamsin might want it. Yes. That is definitely why I am taking this.
He belatedly realized that he should have asked Tamsin if there were any small items she wanted him to retrieve, while he was here. Even if—when—she found refuge with the seelie, there was still the issue of the tithe-curse. She could be trapped in the fae realm for a long time.
Without him.
He swallowed the pain, angry with himself. There was no time to wallow in indulgent angst. He had to find Tamsin’s hellhound friend, the Wild Hunt woman.
Still, he picked up the jar of saffron as well before he turned away. Surely Tamsin would want that treasure.
He noticed a small, bright image of Angus—not a painting, but something else for which he did not have a word—fastened to a pin-board on one wall. Tamsin would want that, too. And the bottle of lemon-scented liquid by the sink, which must be some kind of priceless perfume. And perhaps the soft woolen wrap draped over the back of a chair, and…and…
He turned helplessly on the spot, his hands already full. Realization finally struck him.
Of course. This is why she cannot leave.
Everythingwas a treasure. Because everything was Tamsin.
Every item had been chosen by her. Touched by her hands, arranged to please her eye.