Feral Blood (Bound to the Fae Book 2) by Eva Chase

Author:Eva Chase [Chase, Eva]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Ink Spark Press
Published: 2021-01-05T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seventeen

Talia

“Are you sure you won’t come with me?” I ask August with a playful tug on his arm.

He laughs and gives me a quick kiss by the keep’s front door. The glowing orbs lining the entrance room reflect off his golden eyes, making them shine even brighter. “It’s better for the pack if we all keep to our areas of expertise. They don’t want to think about their lord or the cadre-chosen who’s supposed to be prepared to defend them at the drop of a hat getting high on faerie wine, let alone see it. You don’t have to worry. No one ever gets too wild, and Whitt will look after you.”

The other man did promise as much when he extended the invitation, pointing out that it might be my last chance to enjoy one of his revels in a while—and that I was already dressed for one. I think he’s holding this one specifically to raise the pack’s spirits before their leaders depart for some unknown length of time. Still, an anxious quiver runs through my stomach as I step toward the door.

“You don’t have to join in if you’re uncomfortable,” August reminds me.

I shake off my nerves as well as I can. “No, I’ll be fine. I’ve been curious about these parties for a while.”

That’s true, but it’s not just curiosity compelling me out into the thickening dusk. Sylas may have accepted my arguments for why I should come with him and his cadre, and August seems happy that he’ll be nearby to defend me if need be, but I got the impression that Whitt was still skeptical. How can I expect him to believe I can handle being on the fringes of a war zone if I won’t even brave a revel with the pack I now call mine?

When I step outside, my gaze flits first over the shadowy fields to the southeast, the direction we’ll be traveling tomorrow morning to head to the border camps. Our fate there feels as murky and uncertain as the darkness before me. I turn away from it, toward the rollicking music drifting from around the other side of the keep.

As I circle the towering wooden building, the warm summer breeze licks at the hem of my dress. In the nearby field just beyond the village houses, bordered by the orchard on one side, several lantern orbs float in midair. Their orangey glow lights up the blankets and pillows laid out here and there, the fae men and women sprawled on those and others wandering between them, and the two musicians perched on seats that look like bent saplings, one with an instrument like a clarinet and the other with a fiddle.

With each swipe of her bow across the strings, the woman with the fiddle sways, the smooth fall of her flaxen hair slipping across her shoulder. Even with her eyes narrowed in concentration, I can tell they’re just a little too large and close-set to look totally human. Harper’s mother passed a lot of her looks on to her daughter.

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