26 - Feyre

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The village people were scared of us, or at least wary enough to avoid us. It was easy to notice it. Kids stopped playing and slunk back inside their houses, and adults gave us wary looks when they weren't following those children or staring at us, frozen. It got so bad that Lysandra had left the group in the middle of traveling through the second village, only to return as a blonde woman with extraordinary eyes. The only reason I knew it was her was because of her scent. The villagers calmed in her presence, and while everyone was still wary, our journey was calmer. Who was Lysandra pretending to be, exactly? A noble?

Rhys stared at her curiously as well, but if he had any idea who she was copying, he didn't say. We hadn't been walking long; maybe a few hours. We were almost done passing through our third village when Tamlin caught up with us and said quietly, "We need to find out what's going on. Where they're taking us."

"I'm not sure even they know where they're going. They seem sort of like they're wandering. Wouldn't you agree?" Mor pondered, dark eyes narrowed. I couldn't deny that she was right; they did seem to be wandering. They had a set direction, but not a set place.

"They're searching for the female," I replied. "They probably don't have much of an idea of where she might be."

Tamlin sighed through his nose almost exasperatedly. "You'd think they would have done a better job locating her before sending out search parties."

We all reluctantly agreed. Though, I thought to myself, he didn't follow his own advice back in Prythian, when he traded his Court for me. I still resented him for that-- resented him for dragging so many innocents into this for the sake of one person. But that was a grudge to be settled later.

I watched as the onyx-haired male strode forward, clamping a hand on Rowan's shoulder. The male stiffened, and I did, too. The entire time, there had been a frosty silence between Rowan and the male. Now, it seemed the male was attempting to break the rift, and that could go wrong quite easily. I didn't want to witness a bloody, angry fight.

"Lorcan," was all Rowan said-- a reluctant acknowledgement, by his tone. I strained to hear the dark-haired male, but could only hear a few words. I inhaled sharply when I heard that name again-- Aelin. Who was this girl, and why was everyone so dead-set on finding her?

The village ended, and wilderness stretched out before us. The trees towered high above and plants of every shape, size, and color spotted the ground.

As I strained to hear more, I realized that, between his tone of voice and the few words I could make out, Lorcan was... Apologizing? But that made no sense. Why would he be apologizing to Rowan? What had he done to him? And what did this Aelin girl have to do with it?

Though, on the other hand, if Lorcan had wronged Rowan in some way, that would explain the frostiness. But everything else didn't add up. Not yet. I wondered how long it'd take for all the pieces to finally fit together.

I glanced at Azriel in hopes he might've heard something more, but his expression was carefully neutral. If he'd heard something, he was not yet willing to share.

I went back to staring at Lorcan and Rowan, and watched tensely as Rowan hesitated. There was a period of silence between them, but then Rowan murmured something that had Lorcan's shoulders sagging in relief.

Had he forgiven him?

I might've continued pondering had Rowan not stopped short with a muttered string of colorful curses that were surprisingly creative. I wasn't aware he'd had it in him. Maybe he'd gotten it from someone.

He looked as if he might turn around and walk right back to that castle, but then a cheery, disembodied voice called out, "Rowan! Lorcan!"

"Shift right now," Rowan told Lysandra tersely. "Before they recognize her face." Lysandra did as she was told, frowning in confusion.

Three riders on horseback slowed to a stop in front of them. In the front, a blonde female with beautiful cerulean eyes, and flanking her was another female and a male. The other female had chestnut colored eyes and brown skin. I wasn't sure which female was more beautiful. The dark-eyed, brooding male on her other side made me a bit uncomfortable.

"Lady Remelle," Rowan greeted tightly, shoulders stiff. "Lady Essar. Lord Benson. How... Interesting that we meet again."

The blonde nodded stiffly, but the dark-haired female smiled, sliding off of her horse to greet Lorcan, them Rowan, warmly. Lorcan stayed silent, barely reacting to the female's kindness, but Rowan softened a little-- enough to squeeze her hands with a little bit of warmth in his tight smile. But something in that gesture seemed like a warning, too; as if the last time they'd spoken, something had happened, and he wanted to make sure she remembered it.

She nodded subtly, but said nothing, still smiling. "It's been a while," she began, but was interrupted by the blonde female, who, up until then, had been studying each of our faces.

"I see you finally came to your senses and got rid of that blonde demi-Fae." She snorted, disdain spreading across her features at some memory. "Good riddance." Essar's eyes widened in horror. Rowan went rigid.

Shift right now, before they recognize her face, Rowan had told Lysandra. What exactly had that female done to this group? I glanced at Rhys worriedly as the world seemed to go absolutely still.

The silence that followed her words was worse than any bloodshed.

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