The Faceless Woman Emma Hamm (ebook reader screen TXT) 📖

“Please. I know what men and women do in private.” She rolled her eyes. “I was the Seelie king’s consort for centuries, Bran. Give me a little more credit than that.”

“I will ask you for the same then.” A row of feathers spread down to his fingers, only disappearing when he flexed them. “I don’t know what that king did to you, but Aisling and I have traveled a very long way. She’s injured, tired, and still unwell. I ask for nothing more than time to rest our heads before we travel. That is it.”

It sickened him to the core that she thought he might try anything other than to rest with Aisling in his arms. There was too much to do, too much to think about, and she was still injured. For all that he was Unseelie, he was still a gentleman.

Elva stared at him, and he was certain it was confusion in her eyes. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Scáthach didn’t seem all that interested in letting me remain a moment longer.”

“She won’t know. Just stay quiet tonight, and I’ll make sure no one bothers you.”

He turned to duck back into the tent, but hesitated. Casting a brief glance over his shoulder, he branded the image of her into his mind.

Elva had tied her hair back in a braid. The mass of golden locks coiled, twisted, and turned, glimmering in the firelight. She was so flawless it almost hurt to look at her. Perhaps that, more than her kindness, was her curse.

“Thank you,” he said. “I want to take care of her, you know.”

“I can see that.”

“And it bothers you?”

She looked up, ghosts swimming in the aquamarine pools of her eyes. “I don’t know who you are anymore.”

“People can change, Elva. Strange as it seems.”

He brushed the tent flap aside and plunged back into the darkness where past memories didn’t make his heart ache. There was nothing he could do for the stunning faerie woman. She had made her choices, and lying in them sometimes stung.

“Bran?”

Aisling’s quiet voice soothed his tired mind. He could do nothing for Elva. There wasn’t time, and she wouldn’t accept any help from him. There was perhaps another who could open her heart to love and kindness, and maybe Bran could help her find him.

For now, Aisling’s sister would remain a fragile, broken image of what she might have been if she hadn’t wasted so much time with someone destructive. If he remembered the Seelie king, and he certainly did, there was more to Elva’s story than she was telling anyone.

He stepped toward the small cot and let his shoulders finally droop. “We can stay the night.”

“And then?”

“Then we go to the next place. It is the last, and hopefully our binding curse will be broken at that point.” He rubbed his chest, which suddenly ached.

“Bran, where are we going?”

Gods, what would she do when she found out? He didn’t want to put her back into a dangerous situation, but they were so close. So close to finally breaking this curse and being themselves once again.

He sat next to the cot with his back against the rungs. It was too small to contain the two of them, and though he desperately wanted to hold her in his arms, he also wanted to make sure she slept. Of the two of them, she needed it more.

“We’re going to the Unseelie Castle. Unfortunately, I cannot keep you away from my family much longer.”

“I’m not afraid of them.”

“They’re all half animal. Beastly creatures who are more magic than man or woman. Surely, you’ve heard tales of my parents?”

Aisling shifted, and her fingers played with the long tendrils of his dark hair. “I have heard the stories of the Unseelie king and queen, half spider and half Fae. I have heard every story told to scare children in the middle of the night. But I am not frightened.”

“You should be.”

“Are they going to hurt me?”

He’d kill them if they tried to lay a finger on her. Family be damned, he didn’t like them that much anyways. “I won’t let them.”

“Will they curse me?”

“Never.”

“Will they somehow break us apart so that I will never see you again?”

Bran turned slightly and narrowed his eyes. “Would you want that?”

A piece of him broke off at the mere thought. She wasn’t just a conquest he had found, but the first person he considered a friend. She didn’t look at him as though he was some kind of faerie abomination, and he liked that. Bran liked being a person in someone’s eyes. How could he ever survive losing such a feeling?

Aisling smoothed his ruffled feathers with a soft smile. “No. I think I like you enough to keep you around for a while yet.”

He arched a brow. “A while?”

“A woman has to keep a man wondering where things are going. I won’t make things easy for you.”

With a snort, he turned back around and closed his eyes. “You’ve never been very good at that. I don’t think easy is in your vocabulary.”

“And why should it be? I prefer to travel the brambled path.”

“You’re more likely to have sticks stuck in your hair at the end of that journey.”

“But it will be infinitely more interesting.”

Gods, he could love this woman so easily. Bran reached behind him, picked her hand back up, and placed it on his head again. “Don’t stop.”

“You like this?”

“Hm.”

She stroked her fingers through his hair without flinching when she touched the feathers. In this hour between dusk and midnight, Bran felt like a simple man. Nothing more than flesh and bone. Feathers didn’t matter because they didn’t matter to her.

For once, he felt nearly whole as he fell asleep with her hand resting on his shoulder and his head laid against her side.

The Last Journey

Aisling crested the small hill, her feet sinking in spongy emerald moss that sprang back into place the moment she lifted her weight. It was as if she had never stepped up this hill