CHAPTER19
Oh, fuck.
Aodhan got slowly to his feet, taking care to keep his head bowed submissively. Hidden in the sleeves of his robe, his fists clenched.
Stupid, stupid, stupid. Motley was right. I should have changed.
He’d been so focused on concealing Cathy’s true nature, he’d entirely forgotten about his own. His shapeshifting spell changed his physical form, but not his psychic signature. He might pass a cursory glance, but any detailed inspection of his aura would quickly reveal the disconnect between his appearance and his soul.
The Summer Knight held out one hand, crooking his fingers. A longsword shimmered out of thin air, materializing in the knight’s grip. Aodhan opened his mouth, shaping the first syllable of a shielding spell—and froze as the cold edge of the blade pressed against his neck, just under his chin.
The knight twisted his wrist, forcing Aodhan’s head up. The seelie studied his face for a moment, and his lip curled.
“Yes, I see it now,” he said—not to Aodhan, but to his own steed. “Quite revolting. You are sure?”
“Certain,” the mare replied. She tilted her head a little, regarding Aodhan down the length of her muzzle with distaste. “I was but a filly when I last saw him, but he is notorious among my kind. Any of us would recognize that aura. Hello, Hunter Waning Six.”
It had been so long since he’d seen one of his own people, it took him a moment to place her. “Budding Full Two.”
She arched her neck, light glinting from her jeweled bridle. “It is Sir Ferghal’s Eislyn, now. As you can see, I was fortunate enough to be Called by my fated rider.”
“My sincere commiserations.”
A sharp line of pain bit across his neck. Aodhan silently cursed himself. He’d grown too used to the luxury of being able to speak his mind.
“Watch your tongue, beast,” Sir Ferghal growled. Never taking his attention off Aodhan, the knight snapped his fingers at one of the watching warriors. “Squire! Find a spare bridle. It seems we have found a wild horse in need of training.”
Shit, shit, shit.
Aodhan frantically rifled through his mental library of protective incantations. With a blade pressed against his throat, none of them were any use whatsoever.
“Excuse me.”
The voice was sharp, imperious… and familiar.
“There seems to be some misunderstanding.” Cathy raked the seelie knight with a cold stare, every inch the outraged noblewoman. “This man is my escort. No one is taking him anywhere, unless it is myself.”
The seelie warriors were too well-disciplined to murmur to each other, but a little current of sidelong glances and indrawn breaths ran round the circle. Their horses shifted, picking up on their riders’ tension.
Sir Ferghal, who had clearly been aware of Cathy the entire time, made a great show of deigning to notice her at last. “Sorceress. You claim this creature is yours?”
Cathy hesitated for a fraction of a heartbeat, and Aodhan suspected she was recalling his warning against a direct lie. Her gaze flicked to him. He couldn’t nod without slitting his own throat, but she must have read his frantic affirmation in his eyes.
“Indeed he is.” Cathy drew herself up a little further. “I will thank you to unhand him at once.”
The knight didn’t lower his sword. “Are you aware that it is cavorting around under false pretenses?”
“If by that you mean that he is currently shapeshifted, then yes,” Cathy said tartly. “I am a sorceress. You did not think that he could possibly be keeping any secrets from me, did you?”
“Then why do you permit this… this…” Sir Ferghal raked Aodhan with a disapproving stare, apparently searching for a suitable word. “Perversion?”
Cathy regarded the Summer Knight with a cool, faintly condescending smile, as icily regal as Lady Maeve herself. “Because it suits me.”
Herne’s balls, where’s this coming from?Aodhan kept his expression studiously blank, not letting any hint of astonishment escape. One minute she’s as pale as death, and the next she could be the Summer Queen reincarnate.
Ferghal was looking slightly wrong-footed. No doubt he wasn’t used to having to parse any response more complicated than yes, my lord, or at once, my lord.
“But it is a steed,” the Summer Knight said blankly. “What purpose does it have, other than to be ridden?”