The Evolution of Fae and Gods (Chronicles of the Stone Veil 3)
Carrick’s eyes fire hot, and I can tell he despises the Dark Fae. “If I thought you should know, I would have told you.”
Boral’s not deterred. He glances over at his son, then back to Carrick. “If you need some help with the Underworld, I’m your guy.”
“You’d be willing to help?” Zaid sneers in disbelief.
Boral’s eyes glitter with opportunity. “If it gets me back in my son’s good graces, sure… why not?”
“Pass,” Carrick says blandly. “Zaid is done with you, and he’s never going to owe you any favors.”
Boral’s black eyes turn slightly red, indicating his ire. He pushes up from the stool, growling at Carrick.
Carrick laughs. “Easy, old man. I don’t want to have to hurt you.”
Which is truly an insult because Boral is far older than Carrick, having spent many more thousands of years in the Underworld before Carrick was even created. It’s a direct slap in the face by Carrick. A clear message that his strength would put the old man’s to shame.
Boral glares, then turns to Zaid. “You change your mind and want my help, you just call me.”
CHAPTER 18
Finley
The trip to Faere is much like the last time. Stan was hauled into Carrick’s condo by Lucien, and I could tell Lucien took great pleasure in Stan’s whining and complaints. But they weren’t as vocal as before, and I’m thinking he remembers very well the backhand Lucien gave him last time he was balking about doing anything to help a lowly human.
As a demi-god, Carrick is essentially free to cross any realm, but, as a human, I need a Light Fae escort. We do not know if my powers would make it safe to cross, much like the way it allows me to bend distance without dying, but Carrick adamantly refuses to let me try.
As for my escort over, Carrick didn’t even bother trying to track Pyke down, probably because it had just become a little fun to put Stan out because he hated humans so much. I also think maybe Carrick was hoping he’d say something nasty to me to have a reason to punch him. Admittedly, I do not mind this overprotectiveness he has shown from time to time. He’s not a man of romantic words, nor does he give out reassurances, but his actions do speak to me.
Sadly, Stan remains relatively quiet the entire time, producing only one well-intentioned glare my way when he enters the kitchen. He does us a bit of a solid and opens the veil closer to the queen’s gaudy crystal castle, which means I don’t have to cross paths with the nasty little gnome, Gemba, that wanted to play a dirty magical trick on me. Nabbing my hand, he pulls me through, and Carrick follows.
Dropping my hand like I have the cooties, Stan goes back through the rip without a farewell. Carrick looks down. “Ready for this?”
“You mean ready to be glared upon and secretly wished dead by all the fae in this realm? Sure. Can’t wait.”
Carrick chuckles as we walk across the moat bridge and into the inner bailey.
“And we’re agreed,” I press him because we talked about this yesterday while plotting our trip to Faere.
“We’re agreed,” he concurs.
“Say it fully,” I push.
Carrick shoots me an exasperated glance. “I agree that I will not, in any uncertain terms, allow Nimeyah to demand we stay for a party in exchange for information on Kymaris.”
“You’re the best demi-god I know,” I exclaim with a cheeky grin.
“But I’m curious,” Carrick drawls as we make our way to the double front doors to the castle, “if she knew how to get your sister out of the Underworld, would you agree to a party?”
I stop dead in my tracks, and Carrick does the same, turning to look. His face is placid, patiently waiting for me to admit to my double standard.
“Fine,” I say, hands thrown wide. “Yes, I’d do anything any of these wretched fae want if they have information on how to get my sister out.”
Carrick actually reaches out and quickly tweaks my nose, and I bat his hand away because it’s humiliating.
Laughing, he turns away and bounds up the steps to the double doors. I follow, cheeks pink with embarrassment. However, there is a tiny bit of me that loves this teasing side of Carrick. The man definitely has layers.
The left side of the tall, white crystal double doors opens and Rebsha, one of the queen’s advisors, stands there.
Tall, powerfully built with enchanting green eyes, he’s dressed the same way as the last time we were here. A military-style jacket with epaulets and white pants tucked into black knee-high boots. He looks like a high-ranking military officer.
The odd thing is, Faere has no military.
Does not need one as Queen Nimeyah is in absolute control. Her loyal royals and nobles wouldn’t rise against her as her power is more infinite, and the lower class is not worth the upper class’s consideration.