When a 1500+ year old goddess finally comes back to Prythia she meets quite possibly the mortal of her dreams. Through a series of trials and tribulations through the now treacherous fae lands Cyrilla assists her favourite mortal to the best of her...
The crunching of snow sounded with every step we took. The cold biting its way through our clothes and nipping at our flesh. I kept my arm around Feyre's shoulders. Allowing her to share the warmth from my cloak as I attempted to lessen her shivering.
"What manner of faerie are you?" Feyre's question speared through the silence, her teeth chattering between the words. The faerie in front of us didn't answer. He didn't turn to spare us a glance. He simply just kept moving forward.
I waited a few seconds, debating on if I should say what I knew. I was already damned at this point though. Whatever plan he had to get her across the wall easily without alerting her to how to find the break in the wall would surely not work on me so there was no real reason to pretend that I was a mere mortal like Feyre.
"He's a High Fae, Feyre." I kept my voice as calm as I could as I watched the man before me stiffen, "Most likely a High Lord if I was to guess. That or he himself was granted this form by his High Lord."
Feyre turned her head towards me, her eyes filled with questions as she glanced between us. "How did you know that?" The question hadn't come from her but rather the Fae before us.
"Does it even matter to you little Lordling?" A feline grin spread across my features as I eyed the annoyed beast before me. Rather that respond to me he let out a low growl, turning his head forward once more.
Feyre glanced up at me, her brow quirked in silent question. I just shook my head slightly before mumbling a small, "Later," to her.
Feyre nodded her head slowly before turning her attention back to the faerie before us once more. "Do you have a name?"
Her question was met with what sounded like a groan of annoyance from the male, "Does it even matter to you human?"
Feyre didn't reply to him, which it seemed answered the male's question. As she opened her mouth to no doubt question him again, a snarl echoed from him. The familiar metallic tang of magic filling the air and causing her form to slowly slump towards the ground. Before her body could collide with the snowy forest floor I caught her in my arms, bringing her close to my body as I continued to walk.
The faerie before me looked at me with shock written across his features. Rather than have him question me more than I wanted I allowed my illusion to slip from my features. My features sharpening into their more refined ethereal form. The familiar glow taking ahold of my skin, my eyes lightening and my ears gaining back their usual point. "Magic like that will not work on me little Lordling, I assure you. I won't go causing trouble rest assured. We still have two days worth of travel no? Best be heading out."
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I had indeed been right in my assumption of the journey taking two days. The faerie had yet to take his eyes off of me. No doubt considering whether or not I was a threat of some kind and if so what threat I would pose. He had kept Feyre knocked out for two days, tying her to a horse rather than allowing me to keep my hold of her. Something that drove the more feral protective side of my bond to her mad. From what I could tell, despite barging into the cottage and taking us hostage as per the Prythian treaty—this male didn't mean either of us harm currently.
