there.” Not anymore. Not since coming to Court and swearing he’d never herd a fairy cow again. People at Court forgot that at the edges of Annwyn fairies lived peaceful, dull lives. They forgot there was a choice beyond the Court or the mortal world.
He stopped in front of a tree with a split up the center just big enough for a man to pass through sideways. He placed his hand on the bark to be sure the gateway was still open and undamaged. The shimmer and ebb of power was there. A collapsed gate felt like a sinkhole. If he found one, he told Felan, so the Prince could seal the wound. It was the Prince’s job to ensure the boundaries between Annwyn and the mortal world were secure. The magic of Annwyn bleeding into the mortal world created problems that usually resulted in death.
Taryn mimicked him. For the first time since he’d seen her this evening, she seemed relaxed. Her face had lost the tension that had edged her eyes. She really didn’t like Court, which was unfortunate, as it could be a lot of fun.
He covered her hand with his. “Do you feel the doorway, the thinning and flux of power?”
She nodded. “Is that how you found it?”
“If you ever come here, or any doorway, and all you feel is a pull like a—”
“Black hole?”
Verden raised his eyebrows. “A what?”
“When a star collapses and its gravity sucks everything in. A black hole.”
He glanced up at the stars and tried to imagine one of them sucking everything in and failed. “If the doorway doesn’t feel like this, don’t use it, as it’s broken.”
“Right, don’t use a broken wormhole.”
Verden looked at her again. “Wormhole?” A doorway to Annwyn was not a hole used by worms.
“I studied physics at school. The doorways are like wormholes, allowing people to cross vast distances in a blink?”
“There is no distance. Annwyn exists in another realm; it overlaps the mortal one and bleeds into it in places.”
“Like the river?”
“Like the river, like the doorways.” He took her hand and led her into the tree, sliding through the gap. “It’s going to be cold on the other side.” Then he stepped through, bracing for the bitter chill. He should have taken her to the other gate.
The wind cut through him as if it were made of frozen razors.
Taryn stepped through and swore. Her body drawing close to him for warmth—for a heartbeat he relished the closeness. But even as he enjoyed holding her, he used the magic he possessed in the mortal world to pull together a cloak of leaves for her and then one for him. The cloak would also absorb some of the blustery wind—not an easy trick but he doubted she’d appreciate just how much magic it took.
“Where the hell are we?” She pulled the cloak around her but still shivered.
“I’m not sure. I know the icecaps are that way, over the ocean.” He pointed to his left. He’d been here a few times. It was wild and remote and no one came here, human or fairy.
Taryn was silent for a moment, strands of her hair whipping around her face. He was half expecting her to ask to be taken back, but she didn’t. She turned and looked around.
It was sunrise, the pink sky against the harsh mountains. She inhaled as if taking in the remoteness. “I don’t think it’s the northern hemisphere.” She plucked a leaf from her cloak and gave it a sniff. “And I don’t think it’s Patagonia or South Africa.”
“Does it matter?”
She nodded. “I like to know where I am. If it doesn’t matter to you, why bring me here and not somewhere else?”
“I like it.” He shrugged. She was right. He could have taken her to a dozen different places but he’d brought her to one of the most remote ones, and one of his favorites. “Why not? Aside from home, where else would you rather go?”
“I don’t know. A city?” She faced him looking hopeful.
“Old doorways. Old places that haven’t been destroyed.” So many doorways had been lost while he’d been Hunter. Humans had
He stopped in front of a tree with a split up the center just big enough for a man to pass through sideways. He placed his hand on the bark to be sure the gateway was still open and undamaged. The shimmer and ebb of power was there. A collapsed gate felt like a sinkhole. If he found one, he told Felan, so the Prince could seal the wound. It was the Prince’s job to ensure the boundaries between Annwyn and the mortal world were secure. The magic of Annwyn bleeding into the mortal world created problems that usually resulted in death.
Taryn mimicked him. For the first time since he’d seen her this evening, she seemed relaxed. Her face had lost the tension that had edged her eyes. She really didn’t like Court, which was unfortunate, as it could be a lot of fun.
He covered her hand with his. “Do you feel the doorway, the thinning and flux of power?”
She nodded. “Is that how you found it?”
“If you ever come here, or any doorway, and all you feel is a pull like a—”
“Black hole?”
Verden raised his eyebrows. “A what?”
“When a star collapses and its gravity sucks everything in. A black hole.”
He glanced up at the stars and tried to imagine one of them sucking everything in and failed. “If the doorway doesn’t feel like this, don’t use it, as it’s broken.”
“Right, don’t use a broken wormhole.”
Verden looked at her again. “Wormhole?” A doorway to Annwyn was not a hole used by worms.
“I studied physics at school. The doorways are like wormholes, allowing people to cross vast distances in a blink?”
“There is no distance. Annwyn exists in another realm; it overlaps the mortal one and bleeds into it in places.”
“Like the river?”
“Like the river, like the doorways.” He took her hand and led her into the tree, sliding through the gap. “It’s going to be cold on the other side.” Then he stepped through, bracing for the bitter chill. He should have taken her to the other gate.
The wind cut through him as if it were made of frozen razors.
Taryn stepped through and swore. Her body drawing close to him for warmth—for a heartbeat he relished the closeness. But even as he enjoyed holding her, he used the magic he possessed in the mortal world to pull together a cloak of leaves for her and then one for him. The cloak would also absorb some of the blustery wind—not an easy trick but he doubted she’d appreciate just how much magic it took.
“Where the hell are we?” She pulled the cloak around her but still shivered.
“I’m not sure. I know the icecaps are that way, over the ocean.” He pointed to his left. He’d been here a few times. It was wild and remote and no one came here, human or fairy.
Taryn was silent for a moment, strands of her hair whipping around her face. He was half expecting her to ask to be taken back, but she didn’t. She turned and looked around.
It was sunrise, the pink sky against the harsh mountains. She inhaled as if taking in the remoteness. “I don’t think it’s the northern hemisphere.” She plucked a leaf from her cloak and gave it a sniff. “And I don’t think it’s Patagonia or South Africa.”
“Does it matter?”
She nodded. “I like to know where I am. If it doesn’t matter to you, why bring me here and not somewhere else?”
“I like it.” He shrugged. She was right. He could have taken her to a dozen different places but he’d brought her to one of the most remote ones, and one of his favorites. “Why not? Aside from home, where else would you rather go?”
“I don’t know. A city?” She faced him looking hopeful.
“Old doorways. Old places that haven’t been destroyed.” So many doorways had been lost while he’d been Hunter. Humans had
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