More on this book
Community
Kindle Notes & Highlights
Puck laughed and danced from foot to foot, sticking out his tongue and mocking the soldiers. “I hate that little shit,” Valroy muttered under his breath. Something about the way he said it made her laugh.
“Puck, stay with Valroy.” Valroy groaned. “I thought you loved me.”
“And do what?” Puck cut her off, his voice losing its manic edge and becoming serious. “And do precisely what, Abigail Moore? You are lost. Caught between what you wish to do, and what you feel you must do. So, sit. Play cards. Drink. And wait for your friends to gather around you. Now is not yet time to act.” He grinned. “O’tay?”
“Good!” Puck flopped down in the third chair and produced a deck of cards from the air. “The game is Texas Hold ’Em. Don’t worry about what Texas is. It isn’t ‘is’ yet. I’ll explain the rules. So—”
I believe it was your will that brought Valroy to my door. I know it was by your will that I was brought back from the song of life as a Seelie. And it was by your will that I was given a chance to know him. To…love him. And come what may, come what may transpire, I will cherish that until I cease to be.”
When Perin put his palm over Anfar’s hand, he did not quite know what to do. Or what to think. The selkie was looking down at his hand, and cautiously, carefully—as though afraid of each movement—wove his fingers into his. Anfar’s heart hitched. He froze, afraid that he might break the moment by doing—well, anything.
Abigail had not even registered where she was standing before Puck had let her go, kissed her on the cheek, declared “bee-are-bee” and disappeared in a blink. Whatever that meant.
And he would defend the woman he loved. For she had chosen him—him!—knowing the truth of his soul.
She smiled and went to shoo him away. “There are others more wounded than I. I am all—” He poked her on the end of the nose. “Boop.” And went back to doing what he was doing.
He turned his head to where Anfar still sat, slumped against the tree. “Oy, seaweed.” Anfar lifted his head, though barely. “You are not allowed to die.” Valroy grinned. “I still have use for you.”
She paused for a moment. “You are not the furniture as well, are you? I do not need to be paranoid about sitting in chairs.”
It was exactly at that point, as she began drifting off to sleep that was spurred by sheer exhaustion, that Abigail came to a conclusion. Loving someone did not preclude wishing to punch them in the face.
“Doesn’t matter!” Puck grinned over to Anfar. “Squidward here got me in. Now it’s time to get you out.” “But…how?” Abigail blinked. “I am not a squid,” Anfar interjected, glaring at Puck. It only made the mad spy cackle.
Rolling his eyes in exasperation, Valroy summoned a stick to his hand. He waved it about in the air in front of the pup, and then hurled it off into the woods. Puck hesitated. And then chased it. With a shake of his head, Valroy dropped the stick—still in his hand, having not thrown it after all—on the ground beside him. “Idiot.”
“Wait!” he called after her. “You never did tell me what the gun was for!” “You’re right. I didn’t.” She glanced over her shoulder at him as she kept walking, a playful if somewhat feral grin on her face. “I’m going boar hunting.”
