Of course. “Okay. Tell me where to find them.”
“I wasn’t fibbing when I said this one might be the most difficult of your repayment,” he admits. I’m not even a little surprised. Why wouldn’t it be? Tapping the side of his long nose, Grimly says, “I can take you part of the way, but you’ll have to search out the female yourself.”
Female? I don’t care if it’s fucking sexist, I’d so much rather deal with a female than another Unseelie male. “It’s a girl?”
“Oh. Did I forget to mention that?”
“Uh, yeah. You did.”
He waves me off. “She’s nothing to worry about. Just an Unseelie who prefers the company of the shadows instead of a life closer to Court. Most of the fae”—Grimly jerks his head, spitting at the snow—“live in the big city at Scáth. Not her which makes it a little more possible for you to get that hair.” Glancing up at me, his black eyes seem to shine. “You’d never survive Scáth.”
I don’t doubt that. Honestly, I’m barely surviving the woods.
“So all I have to do is ask her for her hair? That’s it?”
Where’s the catch? He said it would be difficult. Apart from having to find her in the first place, the rest of the task seems pretty straightforward.
There has to be a catch.
Grimly’s gaze slants away from me. He sounds way too nonchalant when he says, “Ask her, sure, if you’re willing to enter into a bargain with her. Steal it, trick her, whatever you have to do. Just get me that hair.”
“Okay. And then we’re done?”
“You get me that hair, girly, and I promise that you’ll never see me again.”
Using his nose, Grimly takes me as far as he can scent the Unseelie female we’re looking for. Since all I can smell is the forest, my own sweat, and the promise of a perpetual snowfall on the air, I take his word for it. I pat my pocket, making sure I still have the petal. Grimly took us on such a winding path that I doubt I’d ever find my way back without it.
Because of that, it doesn’t bother me when he leaves me alone. Actually, I prefer it. The more he pushes me to do these stupid tasks for him, the more I resent the gnome. I can’t wait until this is over with and I can start my search for Rys.
First, though, I have to find the Unseelie.
I don’t know what I’m doing. I figure it’s going to take more time than I want to think about to track her down. Grimly’s nose took us in one direction so I decide to keep heading that way because, well, why not? Since the only other thing I know about the Dark Fae is their affinity for shadows, I figure I need to look for the darkest, most intimidating patches of it that I can find.
It’s a pretty good plan. I’m barely searching the woods for an hour when I come up to an unnaturally dark wall of shadow. Normally, I’d take one peek at it and quickly turn back around, but not today.
Not when I’m so close to getting that gnome off my back.
Setting my shoulders, I shrug my shadowy cloak so that my hands are free. I shove the hood away from my face. The cloak has kept me safe this far, but it’s not going to do me any good if I approach this Unseelie and they can’t see me.
Ugh. I don’t like the wall. It’s creepy and so black, I can’t see a single thing beyond it. I’m suddenly reminded of the glowing gap between Siúcra’s gates and how much I didn’t want to walk through that, either. But, like I did then, I suck it up and head right through it.
It’s weird. The shadows look so thick, but I don’t feel anything as I make my way to the other side.
Well. No. That’s not true. I feel warmth. The chilly air falls away, replaced by a heat that I’ve only felt in my protective circle and the Summer Court.
Hmm. Maybe I’m onto something here.
Pushing through the last of the shadows, I emerge into another part of the woods. Only it’s not just woods.
Right ahead of me, there’s a small cottage—and it’s adorable.
I mean, it definitely looks like it belongs to the Shadow Realm. The siding is a pale grey, the roof made of a dark thatch, and a pair of lit torches line the ice-covered stones that lead up to the front door. A chimney pokes out from the top, wisps of white smoke wafting over it. Two squares—one on each side of the wooden door—are obviously windows; I can’t see through them, though, because the crystal material they’re made of shimmers instead.
I love it.
As I’m staring at the cottage, the door eases open. A tall, slender figure walks out onto the porch. Because of the shadowy cloak that’s a twin to mine, I can’t tell exactly who—or what—has left the cottage, but finger’s crossed it’s the Unseelie I’m looking for.
Without a word, the figure lifts their arms, lowering the hood that hid their face. I guess so we can both see each other.