Kheelan returned home, stopping along the way for his Guardian’s provisions. Finvorra grabbed the pint of Scotch whisky out of Kheelan’s hands the moment he entered the house.
“About time ye showed up, Tacharan. Bring me my mug filled with ice.” He staggered over to the well-worn recliner and fell into its contoured grooves, molded from mounds of resting flesh. Impossible to imagine him shapeshifting back into the fit Sidhe warrior he had been six months ago, before taking on human form to play Guardian. With any luck, the fairies would kick his fat ass out of their world once Kheelan escaped. Queen Corrigan would be none too pleased if she suspected Finvorra’s lack of diligence contributed to losing the changeling.
Kheelan filled the mug and returned to the den. Finvorra was up now, stumbling around the room in a drunken dance, attempting to kick off his pants.
“Don’t just stand there mocking me, boy, help me with these confounded human britches.” Finvorra fell back into his recliner. Kheelan sat the mug on a table and reluctantly helped his Guardian pull off the offending pants. Once Finvorra was comfortably seated in his underwear, Kheelan shoved the mug at him. One of the thick wool socks on Finvorra’s foot had loosened, exposing hairy, crooked toes. They actually looked more like buzzard claws.
Finvorra followed Kheelan’s gaze and swore. Heaving, he pulled up the sock, hiding the deformity. It was the only modesty he ever displayed. The misshapen feet filled him with rage, as if he couldn’t stand for anyone to witness the imperfection.
Kheelan jumped back in anticipation, narrowly missing Finvorra’s swing at his face.
Jerk. Finvorra needed to drink up the entire bottle immediately. The only way out of this foul mood was a full-blown, knockout drunken stupor.
Kheelan went to the fireplace, adding more kindling. Waiting. Finvorra gulped huge quantities and burped several times before finally sighing in contentment. It wouldn’t be long now before he was a goner.
“Fairy fascist,” Kheelan muttered, poking the logs in barely controlled contempt. He waited a good fifteen minutes after the snores started before stealthily digging the desk key out of the discarded pants. He shuddered, remembering Finvorra’s punishment the last time he’d been caught.
But it was a risk he had to take; there was something suspicious in the way the Seelie Court hadn’t pressed him on his relationship to the very redheaded Skye. Frivolous though they may be, they weren’t stupid either. If he had witnessed her rainbow aura and the lighting of crystals around her, they must have seen it too. For some reason they hadn’t captured her straight away and kept her captive until Samhain. That could change at any moment. Skye might be in as much danger from the Seelie as the Unseelie.
Ever so slowly, Kheelan turned the key in the desk and lifted the ancient fairy book, shutting the door closed with a soft click. To be safer, he would take this book in another room to read it. If Finvorra did wake up, he would hide the book until he could slip it back in unobserved.
The book’s words shimmered, ephemeral as bubbles underwater. Kheelan held up the hagstone and painstakingly read the words through its hole. He scanned the table of contents, searching for more information on The One of Legend.
There it was:
The half-fae child, in her 19th year at Samhain, shall be able to activate the celestial crystal, a potent weapon in the war against the Unseelie Court. Various visionaries insist that a human will accompany her into the Realm of Fairy. Others insist she is escorted by one of the Seelie fairies. In any case, all agree that any human who leads her to the crystal shall be granted a boon. No matter what the human requests, he or she must be granted this wish or the half-fae cannot, or will not, perform her magic.
Kheelan drew in his breath sharply. He must be granted his wish. Freedom was within his grasp. The fairies would have to grant the boon. He didn’t have to rely on their self-serving code of honor. The Fae would be displeased to lose one of their changelings, and they didn’t often grant boons, unless it profited them in some way. His hands gripped the text, maybe the Seelie Court did know Skye was The One and they planned to steal her away at the last minute before Samhain. Before he could escort her and request his boon.
He couldn’t let that happen. They would poison Skye’s mind, promising her a life of luxury and magic. She’d be their freaking hero, beloved, and probably either offered or mandated to stay in the Realm of the Fae. They would play on Skye’s insecurities as a witch and the lack of human love and understanding in her life.
Kheelan stood abruptly. He had to warn her. She was in danger.
Chapter 14
Lilies of the Valley