Total pages in book: 162
Estimated words: 151630 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 758(@200wpm)___ 607(@250wpm)___ 505(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 151630 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 758(@200wpm)___ 607(@250wpm)___ 505(@300wpm)
“That dude is wound tight,” Josie says, looking around and shaking her head. “Poor goats are going to get tummy aches.”
I turn her way. She might be my best lead on what’s really happening. “Do you sense anything outside?”
The dead can be sensitive to certain magics. Like Josie can see Rhys’s magic. She might be able to sense Myrddin’s.
“Is someone here?” His Highness asks, and there’s a certain tension to his stance.
Rhys lets my hand go and allows his Fae father to approach him. He shifts his hands out, giving Dev access to his chest. “It’s Josie. She was a tourist who died on the mountain and got stuck here. She’s human.”
Josie frowns. “He says that like it’s a bad thing. Prejudice, much? Oh, hey, what’s that?”
I look over and Bris is in the house. He places a hand flat against Rhys’s chest and Rhys almost immediately relaxes.
“Whoa. He’s pulling the excess magic out of him. Holy shit, Shy. Is that like a god or something?” Josie asks.
I need her to stay on task. The lecture about the Fae pantheon is going to be a short one. “Yes, Rhys’s father is what we call an ascended god. It’s what happens when Fae bond with non-corporeal ancient beings. This is an Irish deity named Bris.”
Josie cocks her head. “Like the thing where they cut a baby’s penis off?”
“No,” I say with a sigh as I watch Rhys. Am I hurting him by being close? If I were to leave, would he settle down and find a proper goddess? I love this man. It’s an emotion that’s sat in my chest pretty much since the moment I met him. I don’t want to hurt him. “It’s just his name.”
“Did she ask if he’s named after the Jewish ritual?” the king asks, his lips quirking up.
“Yes, she’s not up to date on Irish gods,” I admit. “But she is pretty good with seeing magic. Josie, do you sense anything? If Myrddin sent an eye, it’ll feel like something is pressing in on you.”
I’m pretty sensitive to certain types of magic, too. I remember how the last eye Myrddin sent made me nauseated and anxious. I don’t feel it this time.
Josie seems to think for a moment and the alarm stops, bringing blessed quiet with its cessation. She finally turns and points to the north. “I sense something from there, but it’s not like what happened a while ago. I did feel that. This is different. I would bet it’s coming through the portal.”
Which means whatever set off the alarm is in Reykjavík. Where I happen to know some people. Oh, they’re all dead, but they can tell me things.
“Is everyone okay?”
I look over and the queen is running into the yard followed by Neil Roberts and our general. I would bet they didn’t want to be running after her, but she is the queen. They likely told her to stay put, but she does what she wants.
“I’m fine, Mom.” Rhys steps back and straightens his shirt. “I lost control for a moment.”
“And now we have an eye outside,” His Grace declares, his eyes back to normal. “We need to get the wolves inside somehow.”
“I don’t think it’s an eye,” I explain. “We don’t have to panic.”
One of our witches walks in and whispers something to Sasha. He stands tall and faces the royals. “The witches agree with Shy. They do not believe it’s Myrddin. The energy is wrong, they say. They are going to investigate but believe the wolves are safe for now.”
The queen moves in and looks her baby boy over. “Rhys, are you sure you’re okay? What set you off?”
Despite the fact that everyone seems to relax slightly, I feel anxious again. There’s only one answer, and I give it before Rhys can come up with some bullshit no one will buy. “It was me. It’s always me. But the witches are right about the eye. Josie says it’s something else. Something she hasn’t felt before, and it’s coming through the portal.”
The queen turns my way, and her gaze softens. “Shy, he’s in an emotional state. That is not your fault.”
I like the queen, but she doesn’t fully grasp what’s going on between me and her son. “I told him I shouldn’t come to Faery.”
The king curses under his breath and the queen winces.
“If she doesn’t want to come, we shouldn’t make her,” His Grace says.
And the grass starts to grow again.
The queen turns to her Fae husband, her eyes narrowing. “Stop it.”
I hold up my hands. “I’m going. I was worried I would be a distraction. It was a brief thought. I’m sorry I brought it up. Of course I want to go.”
I reach for Rhys’s hand, and he seems to calm at the contact.
“Shy comes with me or I stay with her. I will not leave her,” Rhys states quietly, bringing my hand to the same place where his father recently pulled magic from. He cradles it there. “Papa, if you have a problem…”