A Dream of Fate & Flesh (Courts of Malice #2)

29. Nothing I Cant Handle

twenty-nine

Nothing I Can't Handle

Alessia

T he stream leads our way, cutting through the forest with quiet confidence. We chase after it, winding through ferns and fallen leaves, trudging past mossy rocks. White and purple wildflowers begin to sprout up, welcoming us.

The energy is opposite the Cursed Wood in almost every way.

An incessant itchiness consumes me as I scratch the little bumps adorning my arms and neck. A bug buzzes in front of me, and I swat it away.

Eoin sighs. “Here.”

He beckons for me, and I relent, stepping closer and allowing him to grasp my arms. The warmth of his skin spills across me like paint, a balm to the bug bites.

Even after I pushed him into the stream, he’s still being kind enough to heal my discomforts.

Pulling away, I offer him an awkward smile and a nod.

A short while later, we stumble upon our destination.

“Eoin, look!” My breath catches in my throat as I point straight ahead. Nestled into the forest sits a quaint cottage—if that’s what it can even be called.

The dwelling is almost indistinguishable from the rich browns and vibrant forest greens. With stacked, horizontal logs overtaken by ivy and moss, the cottage seems less like a welcoming friend and more like an introverted stranger desperate to avoid curious eyes. At first glance, one might miss the house entirely. But the small chimney puffing out wisps of smoke gives away its hiding place.

“I don’t like this,” Eoin mutters. He holds up a hand for me to pause. I oblige. He cocks his head, and I strain to listen, wondering if those sharp ears of his pick up on something I don’t.

Besides melodious birdsong and the bubbling of a brook just beyond the cottage, the forest is tranquil.

“What is it?” I whisper.

He casts me a seething glance, and I press my lips together. A few seconds pass, and he exhales, shrugging. “Let’s stay together.”

I nod, allowing him to take the lead.

He steps up to the cottage and pries back pieces of ivy as if searching for an entrance. I do the same, and a moment later, we locate a fairly well-hidden door hidden behind a curtain of greenery. I rap three times while Eoin holds the ivy out of the way.

Something inside the cottage clatters, and then it goes silent. I share a look with Eoin. The hair on the back of my neck stands up. Ezamae seems kind enough, but it doesn’t mean I trust him. I certainly don’t trust his friends .

I finger the dagger strapped to my thigh, hoping I never have to actually use it.

A creak on the other side of the door alerts me to someone’s presence. The door cracks open.

“Who is it?” A somewhat familiar, feminine voice cuts through the air. Seconds later, the door opens further, revealing a beautiful woman with brown skin and dark braids trailing down to her hips. A flimsy little dress that’s more leaves and ivy than actual material barely covers her bits.

Squinting, I try to make out why she looks familiar. I can’t quite place it, so I glance at Eoin and notice he’s taking her in unashamedly. I elbow him in the ribs. He grunts and narrows his eyes at me.

“What do you—?” The woman’s eyes meet mine, and her expression falters. Something akin to fear flits across her face. “What are you doing here?”

Her ethereal eyes widen, the sun glinting off the rich brown color, highlighting specks of gold.

“Sera,” I breathe, recognizing my lady’s maid from Terra Court. Shock courses through me.

Sera phina. How did I miss that? I suppose it’s because I hadn’t expected to see her all the way out here.

“Shite.” Her eyes widen, and she shakes her head. “I can’t help. I have to go.”

“You!” Eoin says. “I never forget a striking face.”

She starts shutting the door, but I catch it with my foot. “Sera—let us in!”

With a sigh of reluctance, she steps back and allows us to push our way into her cottage. My nose scrunches at the overpowering scent of herbs.

I study Sera. Her hair is different, and she looks more like a woodland princess than a servant of the Terra Court, but it’s her. I would recognize those eyes anywhere.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, my face hardening. "You're not from Terra Court?"

"No." She grimaces. “I was at Terra Court undertaking an errand.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” I inspect the cottage, wondering what the hell is going on. Is this a setup of some sort? What am I missing?

The cottage is bigger than it initially appeared. It has one large room with a kitchen tucked along the far left wall, the cauldron over the fire in the middle of the space, and a seating area to the left. I scan a wall of shelves containing dried herbs, potions and tonics, and old books. A chimney above the cauldron funnels the smoke up and out of the room. A couple of doors line the back wall.

“I think I need wine for this,” Sera murmurs. “Would you like a glass?”

“Yes,” Eoin says without missing a beat.

I shake my head. She walks deeper into the kitchen, and she yanks open a cellar door on the floor, giving me another guilty look before descending downward and out of sight.

“That’s Sera—the lady’s maid you assigned to me back at your court,” I whisper.

Eoin’s brow scrunches as if he’s puzzling something out. Then he chuckles, shaking his head.

“She was never in my employ. I would remember an arse like that.”

I slap his chest, unamused, and he grunts.

Moments later, Sera returns with a bottle of burgundy wine and pours a glass for her and Eoin. I decline, wanting to keep my wits. Eoin happily takes a glass as if oblivious to the room’s tension .

She stares at me for a second, something akin to an apology on her face.

“I’m a friend of Ezamae’s,” she explains.

I’m so stunned for a moment that I can’t voice my reply.

With a sip of wine, she gestures to her overstuffed sofa. “Let’s sit and talk.”

Eoin plops into the cushions, holding his glass carefully so it doesn’t spill, a smile plastered to his face. I glare at him.

Sera sits beside him, and I sit on the floor across from the couch.

“We haven’t had the chance to meet officially,” Eoin says with a charming grin, slipping into his usual casual arrogance. He leans in and reaches out to place a hand on her shoulder.

I sigh, shaking my head as I watch him try and woo her.

“You’re the prince of shite in my woods.” Sera’s shapely brows arch, then she grabs his fingers, bending them back and twisting.

Eoin yelps, jerking his hand back and nursing it against his chest. This time, he spills a few drops of wine on his lap.

“Do not touch me against my will,” she says, a threat of violence shining in her eyes.

I work hard to keep the amusement off my face as I watch the scene unfold. I’m reminded of the female I befriended at Terra Court for a second. She was close to me and lying about who she was. Why?

“I’ve told you not to touch anyone against their will,” I say pointedly to Eoin.

Sera chuckles, but her smile slowly melts away when I turn my glare on her .

“I understand if you are unhappy with me.” She guzzles down a long drink of wine, then sighs and places her empty glass on the floor by her feet. “There was nothing nefarious about Ez’s ask.”

The use of his nickname does little to quell my unease. "What do you mean—his ask ?"

She scrunches her nose, giving me an apologetic look. "He asked me to get close to you… to keep an eye and ear on things."

“He severely overstepped,” Eoin says, squinting. “I know a way you can make it up to me, though.”

“Eoin.” I sigh, my gaze shooting up to the ceiling before settling back on him. “Knock it off.”

He shrugs, coyly. “I was only going to suggest—”

“Ezamae sent you?” I ask, turning back to Sera and talking over Eoin.

She nods slowly. “He had heard a rumor and sent me to get close to you to uncover whether or not there was any merit to it.”

I squirm uneasily. “A rumor about what, exactly?”

She shrugs, eyes never leaving me. “That you weren’t what you first appeared to be.”

A lump forms in my throat, and I swallow it down, focusing on keeping my expression neutral. There is no way I’m admitting the truth of those rumors to her.

Thinking back, a few things she mentioned repeat in my head, and it suddenly makes sense why she entertained me the way she did, prying just lightly enough not to ring any alarm bells. I relax slightly, knowing she was sent to gather information rather than cause harm, but the disappointment swells .

“So you were sent to fake a friendship with me, and then what, report back to Ez with your findings?” I ask. “Why does he even care so much?”

A few seconds pass before she responds. “For what it’s worth, my fondness for you was real. I do believe we could make great friends in another life.”

I frown. “But not in this one?”

“We both know I’ve lost that chance.” Standing, she snatches her wine glass off the floor and returns to the kitchen. “Hungry?” she calls to us. “I always make extra.”

“We’re fine,” I say before Eoin can respond. I rise, glancing at the door. “We should be on our way.”

I have no interest in staying here any longer—even though we could use a proper rest and replenish our supplies.

“Since Ez isn’t with you, and you’re all the way out here, I assume you’ve been journeying for some time.”

It’s been three days, though. Is he coming back?

Do I want him to?

Conflict roils inside of me. He’s the one who sent Seraphina to spy on me, so he must’ve known the truth would come out when he sent us here. Does that mean he has nothing to hide?

Instead of heading out the door, I go to Sera in the kitchen. She smiles, leaning over her cauldron. She sprinkles a dried herb in and stirs with a ladle.

“I knew you were hungry,” she says.

“We’re not friends,” I tell her. Despite my words, I pull out a chair at the small table nearby and plop down.

Eoin joins a second later. “Don’t take it personally. Alessia doesn’t want to be anyone’s friend. ”

I glare at him as Sera refills his wine, and he winks at her.

“Ez must trust you to send you here,” she says. “If that’s any consolation.”

“It’s not,” I say flatly. Ezamae seemed honest when he mentioned the future he was trying to pursue, but I don’t understand how I could have such an impact on his life.

He inserted himself into my affairs, and I may never have met him otherwise, but I still fail to see how our alliance benefits him.

As for sending a friend to spy, maybe it truly wasn’t nefarious. Ez is a prince, after all, and he can hear secrets. It’s rather wise he’d try to make sense of my presence here. It’s a wise move.

Something in my gut tells me that Ez is being tactical, perhaps even selfish, but not nefarious.

Sera stops stirring and studies me. “I must ask. Have you become a lover of Ez’s?” She glances at Eoin. “Or have you, perhaps?”

“What—no way,” I say, appalled.

“No one here is the Aer Prince’s lover,” Eoin says.

Sera’s shoulders soften, and something akin to relief crosses her face. She once mentioned the rumors of the Aer Prince’s skills but implied she’d never experienced his touch for herself.

A few beats of tense silence fill the air.

“Pass me a couple of bowls, would you?” Sera points Eoin toward a cupboard. “Up there.”

He grumbles but follows her orders.

She scoops a ladle of stew, slopping it into the bowl before thrusting it my way. I accept and take a seat at the table. Sera returns her attention to the cauldron, scooping another dish for Eoin next. Thick, brown liquid jumps over the edge, splashing his hand. He pulls back, scowling at Sera .

“Oops,” she says with a shrug.

Eoin’s cheeks pinken, but he accepts the bowl and joins me at the table.

I refuse to eat until she gives me a straightforward answer. As if she can sense that, she sits beside me, placing her bowl of stew on the table.

“Oh, spoons!” She gestures at Eoin. “They’re in the drawer behind you.”

“I’m a prince,” he mutters. “Not a servant.”

“ Eoin .” I kick him under the table. Whether or not I trust Sera, I’m still a guest in her home. And so is Eoin. Neither of us is above helping out.

Sera sighs.

“You’re being unlikable again, Eoin,” I hiss.

He stands, heading to the drawer. A moment later he returns, passing around wooden spoons.

We eat in tense silence. Bold flavors wash over my tongue as I swallow down the stew, and there’s no doubt that Sera can cook. I rifle through my mind, trying to make sense of her and Ez’s intentions.

“I hate garlic.” Eoin scowls into his stew.

I kick him under the table again. Luckily, Sera pretends to ignore us.

“I hope you’re staying the night,” she says, breaking me out of my thoughts. “Rest, eat, and tomorrow, resume your journey.”

The thought of cleaning up and resting, especially after spending days in a forest with Eoin, sounds delightful.

Most of all, I’m dying to see Rainer in my dreams. Holding him close, kissing him tenderly, and hearing his soothing voice will fix everything—or at least we can pretend it does and momentarily leave our troubles behind.

With a sigh, I give a sharp nod.

I'm already working with untrustworthy fae. What's one more?

Hopefully, it's nothing I can't handle.