Page 9 of A Court of Ravens
Tomas grins. “Aye, I bet you do.”
“Keep her friend entertained for a while.”
Tomas shakes his head, sea spray glistening in his dark hair from his run earlier. “And how do ye propose I do that? She nearly jumped me last night. It was all I could do to fend her off.”
“Take her to the beach. Willweave her, if you must.” I wave dismissively. “How you do it doesn’t matter. I’ve got business withher.”
“I know it’s been a while since you’ve gone beyond the Veil, but a woman could get the wrong idea about a beach,” Tomas says drily.
“Stop being a pain in me hole. It’s a bunch of dirt,” I snarl, the beast pacing closer to the surface.
“‘Bunch of dirt,’” Tomas repeats with a snort-laugh. “Right. Maybe I should give her a box of candy while I’m at it?”
I ignore him, focusing on Felicity. The site’s shadows seem to reach for her, hungry things recognising their own.Wait…They stretch high above Archer, as if he’s a lodestone for darkness. But why?
Archer’s voice breaks through my haze. “Tools move. Messages carved into the foundation.”
“What kind of messages?” Felicity asks.
“‘Leave here. The fae will come for you.’It’s harmless.” Archer smiles, but there’s a viciousness in the corners of his mouth. “Probably, someone trying to tell us they don’t want us here. They didn’t need to carve it for me to figure that out.Almosteveryone has welcomed us.” Archer shifts his gaze to the priest when he says ‘almost.’ “This will expand tourism and bring revenue to the island.”
He could’ve meant the priest’s brother, Michael. They’d been at each other’s throats earlier. Felicity catches it, too—knowledge flashing across her face before she schools her features back to neutrality.
“Thank you for your time, Mr. Archer,” she says, extending her hand.
“My pleasure,” he replies, taking it.
“Come on.” I move towards a gap in the ancient wall, stones worn by centuries of salt wind. “Be inventive. It’s not for the sake of small talk. I need to know more and she may have answers.”
“Don’t start any brawls over misplaced affections,” Tomas quips.
I ignore him, walking towards the group, boots crunching against the gravel. Felicity turns, her gaze catching on me. My beast perks up at her pulse quickening, a staccato beat enough to distract me.
She won’t remember our ride, that much I’ve made sure of, but at least she won’t be mad at me—for now. She may look soft, but the fire in her could leave a man singed if he steps too close. I see the spark, the potential for inferno, and a cruel impulse takes hold. I want to control that fire, to watch it dance at my will, even if it burns us both in the end.
And then, for a moment, I see them. Horns. Faint and shadowy, tips curling like indigo smoke before vanishing.What the fuck?My steps falter, the memory of the Obsidian Court pressing at the edges of my mind. It doesn’t make sense. If there’s one thing I’ve learned, the Other Crowd loves its secrets.
I swallow hard, brushing off the chill creeping up my spine. There’s no time to unpack what that means, not yet. The horns and shadows and mindspeak don’t belong, but the fire? Oh, that fucking fits. It’s a power I recognize, a game I intend to win.
Time to see if she can handle the heat of a fae—a púca—on her trail. And while she’s trsing to catch me, I'll be busy claiming the prize.Her.
ChapterFive
FELICITY FORREST
“Some truths are whispered directly to our souls, felt deeply and known without question.”
Queen Beatrice Blackthorn Shadowhart, Shadowborn Witch, Queen of the Obsidian Court (deceased)
The sun casts Niall in a glow that’s messing with my hormones. Seriously, the way the light plays on his hair, turning those waves into liquid embers? It’s illegal. It absolutely should be against some celestial law. And yeah, he’s breathtaking—like, annoyingly so—but the crow’s feet around his eyes, the kind that crinkles when he smiles? That’s what sends me. It’s like a tiny billboard saying, this man has seen some shit, but he’s still standing.
I’m deep in my Niall-centric spiral when Cyn jabs into my side hard enough to make me grunt.
“Pay attention,” she hisses, dragging me out of my shameless ogling.
The priest has been talking, but nope, I didn’t catch a word. I was way too busy mentally composing bad poetry about Niall’s hair.
Dammit.“Thank you for your time, Father. You’ve been very helpful.” My voice is a little breathless. His eyes are on me, devouring me, as he walks towards me, like he’s coming to collect what’s his.
