Fae Wolf

Chapter 1-2

UNFORTUNATELY, AITI wasn’t at the canoe. And our vessel wasn’t bottom-up on the bank the way it should have been. Instead, the boat rested in the water, straining against the rope we’d moored it with just in case the vessel developed a mind of its own.

The tether should have meant we were fine, but the rope was fraying. As if whatever force had pulled the canoe away from this human shore was stronger than braided unicorn-mane—patently impossible.

“Freakin’ fiddlesticks,” I muttered, grabbing the rope and heaving it toward me until there was a little slack to work with. A quick knot to bypass the weak area and I could trust the tether again...for a while at least. But I needed to find Aiti and get her back to the canoe before another strand snapped.

Because if the canoe left without us, we’d be stranded on earth. And while I might be suited to this environment by reason of my birth, Aiti wasn’t. A fae outside Faery was forced to turn to mortals for sustenance or fade away entirely. Of the two options, I knew which my adopted mother would choose.

Meanwhile, the danger shouldn’t have been an issue. Her paddle would have provided the same warning mine did. Why hadn’t she hurried back?

Dropping my books and paddle by the canoe, I spread the cloak over top even though going without was a risk. Wasting time lugging around burdens when the canoe was acting strangely seemed like an even worse bet.

My feet were loud on the pavement as I headed back to town, nothing like the muted whisper they would have made in Faery. “Farmer’s market,” I called to a shopper emerging from a grocery store. When he didn’t reply, I stood taller and made an effort to mimic the brusqueness of earth dwellers. “Where’s the farmer’s market?”

“Crazy hippies.” The man made a face, proving I hadn’t gotten the local intonation down. Still, when I flashed the barest hint of wolf at him, he muttered something even less complimentary then pointed to his left.

The name of the game was to blend in while on earth, and I’d thoroughly blown that. But the human in front of me probably had no idea why his heart rate had picked up when my inner wolf growled.

I could only hope fear hadn’t made him ornery. Hope he’d sent me the proper way.

He had. Colorful tents. Happy chatter. Relief flooded me like helium as I caught sight of Aiti in front of a booth of cheeses.

She was cloaked, which meant she seemed to possess a rather hooked nose instead of a bird beak in the middle of her mostly human features. Wolf senses meant I heard her long before I reached her, and her conversation came across as perfectly ordinary as well.

“You’re worried.” She reached across to pat the hand of the proprietor, a tiny woman who was almost as bird-like as Aiti without the cloak.

The farmer nodded. “Clover is so old. I didn’t mean to breed her, but the bull got in last year. She’s due to calve this week and I don’t think she’ll make it.”

The untrained eye wouldn’t have caught the spark of magic, not in broad daylight. But I was used to Aiti giving away what other fae would have charged an arm and a leg for (possibly literally). So I knew she’d passed over a parcel of good luck along with her second hand pat.

Her gentle words activated the magic. “She’ll make it.”

The farmer smiled, worry easing off her shoulders. “You know, I think you’re right.”

Then I was close enough to grab my adopted mother’s arm. To breathlessly spit out the honorific I used to address her. “Aiti. We need to go. Now.”

Aiti didn’t move. Instead, the farmer was the one who smiled at me as if she and Aiti were old friends rather than strangers who couldn’t have spent more than half an hour together. “This must be your daughter. Skye, right? Try a sample.”

There they were. A row of earthly foods free for the taking, toothpicks at the ready for mess-free handling. Each selection smelled delicious...and if I ate a single bite, Faery would no longer be my home.

My eyes widened. Was that why Aiti hadn’t noticed the canoe’s tug at the same time I had? I’d thought fae could eat whatever they wanted. That my changeling status—not really one thing or the other—was why I had to be so careful about consuming only the food of Faery. But maybe I’d been wrong....

No. I saw her paddle—glamoured to look like a cane—leaning against the table leg. Aiti shouldn’t have set it down. That was the very first rule she’d imparted when she’d deemed me responsible enough to be separated from her during our trading trips. In the decade plus between then and now, our roles had reversed.

Because Aiti was growing older. Her mind, I’d noticed in the last year and a half, was prone to wandering. Especially when faced with another’s pain.

I softened my tone. “Aiti, your cane.”

“Yes?” For a moment, her eyes were confused, empty. Then her mouth rounded. “Oh!”

The moment her fingers closed around the paddle, her urgency exploded. “Be sure to pat your cow tonight,” she called back to the farmer as she ran toward the exit. “And enjoy your new calf!”

Behind her, Aiti left peace. She always left peace wherever we traveled.

She herself, however, was frantic. The moment we emerged from the mass of seething shoppers, she panted out an explanation. “The borders are closing!”

“Closing? What do you mean by ‘closing’?” I grabbed her bag and paddle to speed us up, wishing that I could lift my Aiti and carry her as easily.

I couldn’t, though. It would have offended her dignity.

So I let her move under her own volition as she panted out explanations. “The last time the borders closed. Oof”—her clawed foot caught on a c***k in the pavement and she nearly fell before steadying herself and continuing—“earth and Faery were separated for centuries.”

We rounded a corner and came within sight of the river. For one split second, I couldn’t see the canoe. My breath caught.

Then it bobbed back into view beneath a wooden dock. My knot had held.

Closing the distance between me and the tether while letting Aiti hop along more slowly, I yanked on the rope to draw the vessel to shore then heaved gear into its roomy bottom. Bag of books. Cloak. My paddle. Aiti’s pack.

By this point, my adopted mother was close enough for me to urge her: “Get in!”

But Aiti didn’t hurry into our craft the way she should have. Instead, she took my hand.

Her fingers, I noticed, ended in feathery tufts instead of the human-style nails that had been present last week. Reversion. I winced, shaking my head. Aiti couldn’t be reverting. We’d just spent too long away from Faery during our current trip. That was all.

Unaware of my worries, Aiti peered into my eyes and spouted words that made no sense at first. “Maybe this is for the best, Skye. You’re grown. Earth was always meant to be your home.”

For a long moment, I didn’t understand what she was saying. Then I did and I hated it. “What are you talking about? Earth is for visiting. You draw your sustenance from Faery. If the borders are closing, we need to get back.”

“And be stuck in the Unseelie Court for the rest of your life? It’s not safe for you there.”

“Less safe for you alone.” I couldn’t physically throw my Aiti into the boat, I didn’t think. But I could toss in her paddle and steady the side to make it easier for her to enter. “We need to hurry.”

“We can spare thirty seconds for you to consider your options.” Now Aiti didn’t look lost and abstracted. She looked like the mother who had raised and protected me, teaching me right from wrong and introducing me to the wonder of two worlds. “Think about the decision you’re making. This might be your only chance.”

“It’s an easy choice,” I answered.

And, despite the werewolf in the library, it was easy. Aiti was everything to me. She could only survive in Faery.

I leapt into the boat.