The Fire Thief by Erin St Pierre & Gwynn White

Author:Erin St Pierre & Gwynn White [St Pierre, Erin]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: 4xOverland
Published: 2019-03-18T16:00:00+00:00

Trystaen returned a few hours later, flushed with cold. Princess Boadicea had accepted their offer to meet, but on her terms. No spiriting in. All weapons seized upon arrival. And she chose the location. One day’s walk from the pathetic excuse of an inn where they’d spent the night.

They left the inn before first light, having gotten no more than a couple hours of fitful sleep. A fluttering of snow had fallen in the night. It coated the ground and trees in a thin layer of crisp fluff. While her feet rasped through the frost, the others were as silent as ghosts.

Averin walked ahead with Eliezar. They talked in hushed tones. Trystaen followed at her side. She didn’t need them to tell her that she was holding them up.

Despite her cold-numbed cheeks, she flushed at her clumsy mortalness compared to their otherworldly grace. Her limbs were more streamlined and agile than they’d been before, but she couldn’t match fae who’d existed and trained for who knew how long. As always, her blush deepened as she recalled her “fight” with Averin. To add to her misery, she still stank of blood and mud. Averin had insisted that she wear his cloak. Grateful for its warmth, it was still heavy on her shoulders.

Thankfully, there was no sign of Pyreack soldiers or Tiyanak as they traipsed through the dark woods. She toyed with the idea of telling Averin about her Tiyanak and the deal she’d made. But Averin had his secrets. Why else would he risk his and his friends’ lives by attacking Angharad?

No, better to keep that scrap of information to herself.

After two hours of trudging, the sun crested the horizon. It did little to thaw the snowy frost. Already winded and tired—it would take more than a pouch of nuts and dried fruit to repair years of malnutrition—her mouth was dry and her lips cracked. She rasped a breath, panting through the stitch that ripped her side. As usual, her fae companions had barely a hair out of place. They strolled like they were out on a morning jaunt through a tranquil forest.

She scowled at Averin’s back and stuck out her tongue.

Trystaen chuckled roughly, the sound meeting his lovely pine-green eyes. He swept his ponytail over his shoulder. Like her braid, it was tied with a leather strap. How she missed her red ribbon.

“You’ll get used to your new body,” Trystaen said with certainty. “You just need to eat more.” He gestured to the pouch of fae-snack hanging off her belt.

She shoved a handful of the sweet stuff into her mouth. She swallowed almost without chewing. “I’m still not entirely sure what anything is anymore. And those bastards from Pyreack weren’t in the mood to explain. Or I wasn’t in the mood to listen.”

“Being one thing for so long and then being forced to survive as something else isn’t easy.”

“You say that like you know.”

A sure nod. “I do know. Maybe not quite to the same extent, going from mortal to fae like you have, but I have my own story.

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