We weren’t completely alone in the area—what looked like a tour group was gathered next to a collection of standing stones some distance away, listening raptly to the guide as she spoke. A few people at the back of the crowd noticed us, pointing in our direction and leaning their heads together to speak.
The cat, I realized. They’re looking at the cat.
Were the tourists actually glamoured Fae? Or the tour guide? I huddled more closely against Rans’ side and tried to focus on putting one leaden foot in front of the other. We walked past a church surrounded by a copse of trees. Just beyond it lay a collection of shops with a small parking lot nestled between the buildings.
Rans led me to a nondescript silver sedan and opened the driver’s side door, easing me down into the seat. I was confused for a moment about why the hell he thought I was in any condition to drive, but there was no steering wheel on this side. Right. Ireland. The cars were backwards here, like in the UK.
I hunched sideways in the seat, trying to gather my strength to lift my heavy legs and swing them inside. The cat twined around my ankles, its chest rumbling with a low purr.
Rans shooed it away. “Yes, yes. You got us here safely. Thanks ever so much. Now do me one last favor and sod off, all right?”
The creature rumbled a little growl and trotted off, the tip of its tail twitching. It was true that the cat hadn’t made me itch with discomfort the way the Unseelie Fae did, but I still couldn’t help relaxing as the last tangible reminder of Dhuinne and its inhabitants disappeared from view around a corner.
Rans reached down and lifted my legs into the car, closing the door without a word. He went around to the other side and reached into the back seat, coming up with a plastic shopping bag. After sliding into the right-hand driver’s seat, he set the bag between us, and retrieved car keys from behind the sun visor.
“Did you eat or drink anything they gave you?” he asked, snapping off the words.
“No,” I rasped.
“Good.” He pulled out a plastic bottle of sports drink, a banana, and a bag of greasy potato chips. “Drink that. Eat this. And don’t fucking talk to me right now, because I’m pissed off enough that I might accidentally put the car in a ditch if you do.”
SIXTEEN
I SWALLOWED AGAINST the painful dryness of my throat and took the food and drink. My hands were shaking with reaction and weakness, but my desperate thirst—and maybe my horror at the idea of having to ask Rans for help after that last declaration—lent me the strength to twist the cap off the fluorescent blue sports drink.
I tried to sip slowly, not wanting to turn my queasy stomach the rest of the way against me, but instinct took over when the lukewarm liquid hit my tongue. Before I knew it, I was gulping it down, little rivulets escaping to dribble over my chin and drip on my lap. I fell on the food next, shoving it into my mouth, salty and sweet and not nearly enough to fill the gaping hole left by days of starvation.
When it was gone, I put the detritus back in the bag and set it in the foot well. Then, I wrapped my arms around myself, hugging tight. My eyes slid to Rans’ profile and away. Eventually, I let my head rest against the window’s cool glass, green hills and trees sliding past my unfocused eyes. My stomach churned, and my mind shied away from all the things I should be thinking about right now.
I drifted in that uncomfortable state as we drove through Ireland’s rolling rural landscape, thousands of miles away from the place I’d always called home and never expected to see again. Eventually, the car pulled onto a single-lane dirt road, and from there, onto something that could better be described as a track.
I slumped boneless in the seat, letting the ruts and potholes jostle me until Rans brought us to a halt in front of a rustic cottage. I stared at the building stupidly, making no move to open the car door and get out as I took in the acres and acres of nothingness surrounding it. Well... almost nothingness. I could see some white blobs in the distance, like little cotton balls. I think they might’ve been sheep.
Rans’ door opened and closed. He came around to open mine before looking down at me with an unreadable expression. “Do I need to carry you?”
I scowled. “I can walk, goddamn it.”
He gave a minute shrug and turned on his heel, heading for the front door of the little house. I watched him retrieve a key from above the lintel and disappear inside.
And now I had to make good on my little moment of defiance.
Fuck.
My entire body felt like it had rusted into immobility during the journey here. How was it that I could have been doing yoga and self-defense training mere days ago, only to feel like this now? Even after drinking and eating, I was still a complete wreck. For the first time, it occurred to me to wonder how much of my weakness was due to starvation and dehydration, and how much was due to the magic Caspian’s goon had used on me. Had they managed to damage me permanently somehow, after all?
A chill of fresh fear washed over me. What had the Fae done to me in their eagerness to find out what they wanted to know? Would I recover on my own, or would I just... always feel like this from now on?
Hatred for the blond-haired bastard who’d hurt me followed close on the heels of fear, and it was hatred that gave me
