The Faceless Woman by Emma Hamm (i love reading .txt) 📕

closed over the small stone. “What’s wrong with it?”

“Even the blood of a god can compel people to do what he wishes. He’s there for a reason, Aisling. Now, give it here.”

The shackles of her name twisted around her throat. She narrowed her eyes and waited as long as she could before holding out her hand. Even a chosen name had power over her, but he didn’t know she was a changeling. He couldn’t know that her name was a weapon if he wished to control her.

Her hand shook, her breath sawed from her lungs, but she still turned her hand over and dropped the bead into the outstretched bag.

“Good job,” Bran sarcastically said. “Was that hard for you?”

She didn’t give him the response he wanted. Instead, she said nothing as he tied the bag shut and slid it back into the pack she carried. Whatever magic swirled in that creature’s blood was dangerous, dark, and far too powerful. She was afraid to consider what it might have done if she had held onto it for a few moments longer.

Rubbing her chest, she turned toward the fire and started kicking dirt onto it. “What’s next?” she asked.

“Preferably we’ll return to my home, clean up a little, I’ll take you out to a nice balcony somewhere so we can look at the stars. It’s a pretty castle. Did I tell you I live in a castle?”

A smile spread across her features. “Are you trying to distract me?”

“Is it working?”

“Not at all, Unseelie. There are still two parts of your spell, and I’m very much interested in breaking this binding curse.”

A wall of heat pressed against her from shoulder to knee. He had stepped so close she could smell the sweet wine of his breath. “Are you so sure about that?”

Aisling pinched her arm so hard she drew blood. The Unseelie gasped and flinched, lifting his arm and swatting at it as if a bug had bitten him. She pointed to the small wound and cocked her head to the side. “I’m certain.”

“Women,” Bran grumbled. “Too dramatic for their own good.”

“Just get on with it. What else must we endure?”

He waved a hand, and the fire disappeared. Lorcan rolled to his feet, stretching his paws and flexing his toes.

“The remaining pieces aren’t as easy as the God’s blood.”

“That was easy?” she interrupted.

“We’re close enough to the next, although I’d rather do it last. We need a vessel made of heart, waters from Swan Lake, and then the spell will need to be performed in my home.”

Aisling placed a hand on her hip and arched a brow he couldn’t see. “The castle you mean?”

“Yes. The castle.”

“The vessel made of heart could be anything. What kind of spell is this? There’s rules to magic, particular steps that have to be followed or it’ll all unravel at your feet.”

“It’s more of a prophecy than a spell.”

She curled her hands into fists. “So what you’re saying is we’re wandering around the Otherworld chasing the tail of something that might not even work?”

He swallowed. “That’s about the gist of it.”

Energy crackled at her fingertips, anger dancing in her clenched fists and begging to be released. “You dragged me here, risked my life, and you’re telling me it’s all for nothing?”

“Well, not nothing. This might actually work.”

A bolt snuck out of her hand and struck the ground near him. Bran jumped, leaping away from the magic while his own rippled down his body. Feathers unfurled across his arm then settled back onto his skin.

“You said this would work,” she growled. “You said this was the only way to break the binding curse.”

“It’s the only way I know.”

“It isn’t a spell! It’s a whim, a muse, something that doesn’t exist, and you’re risking both our necks for what? A childhood fantasy?”

His jaw jutted forward, the stubborn set somehow familiar. “This is a real way to break the binding curse. I know this for a fact. I’ve just never seen it practiced.”

“Why not?”

“Because no one has ever been able to successfully do it.”

She took a calming breath, which did little more than aggravate her further. “Bran, please tell me we’re not on a wild goose chase.”

“We’re not.”

“Please tell me you know what you’re doing and we aren’t going to end this journey still stuck together.”

“Would that be such a bad thing?”

Lips pressed into a narrow line, she pinched herself again. He yelped and slapped a hand against his hip.

“Yes, it would be a bad thing. Need I remind you that we’re stuck together until all of this goes away? That what I feel, you feel?” She pointed at him. “If you can’t break this curse and dragged me through the Otherworld for no reason, I’m going to make your life hell.”

“I was already counting on that, witch. Are you ready to go?”

“Where are we going?”

He winked. “There’s only one vessel made of heart in the Otherworld, and that’s locked inside the Duchess of Dusk.”

“Who?”

“You’ll see.” He reached into their pack and tossed her an apple. “Last one, witch. Sooner or later you’re going to have to eat our food.”

“I’d rather starve.”

The Palace Of Twilight

“Do you even know where we’re going?”

“Yes, witch.”

“Are you sure? Because we’ve been beating through these bushes for hours and I’m certain I’ve seen that tree before.”

Bran glanced up at the tree and ground his teeth. He’d seen it too, a few times now. She was less observant than he’d given her credit for if this was the first time she realized they’d passed by it. But he had a feeling she’d been holding her tongue. Lorcan had slunk into the forest, grumbling under his breath that he would find his own way about an hour ago.

He did know where they were going; he just didn’t know how to get there. The Duchess of Dusk was one of the most elusive Unseelie faeries. She also hated Bran with a passion.

It wasn’t his fault he’d been born into royalty. Some things were outside of