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I’d never been this far from the city, and I drank in the wild beauty of Louisiana, more untamed as we traveled deeper into the wilderness. Stately cypress trees, their red-brown bark swathed in Spanish moss, heralded our arrival to the bayou.
The farther outside New Orleans we went, the more I was reminded that I’d left Channing sitting in jail. I’d been able to shake off my nagging guilt before, but there was something about leaving him behind now that made that impossible.
“I need to check on my brother,” I blurted out. It was easy to tell myself he was safer in a jail cell when we were in the same city. “I got him arrested, and I shouldn’t be going…”
I didn’t actually know where we were going. Because, at some point, I’d begun to trust Lach. But now I was being driven away from the only home I’d ever known, from the only family I’d ever known. Something cold gripped my guts at the thought.
“It’s already handled, Cate,” Lachlan said, not taking his eyes from the narrow two-lane road.
My eyebrows shot up. “What do you mean?”
He shrugged without taking his hands from the steering wheel. “The charges have been dropped and he’s been set up with a job in the Quarter.”
“What kind of—”
His gaze swung to mine, something that looked vaguely like hurt in his eyes. “Bussing tables at a restaurant.”
“You…?” I let the question hang between us.
He nodded, confirming he was responsible for this turn of events. “Channing doesn’t know it was me. Just that he’s not being charged.” He cleared his throat. “It’s safe work. No weapons necessary, and I have someone keeping an eye on him.”
“Oh,” I said as he turned his attention back to the road. I should thank him, I knew, but I was too focused on the fact that he’d been thinking of my brother when I hadn’t been. Guilt warmed my cheeks, and I silently stared at the landscape as we sped by. I’d done what I thought was best for Channing in a moment of fear and anger. But Lachlan had actually helped him. I didn’t know what to do with the emotions tightening my chest, so I decided to do what I normally did and ignore them.
But I couldn’t help pulling out my phone. I hadn’t missed any calls or texts. I even checked my email. I didn’t have the heart to ask how long Channing had been out of jail. Not when it was clear my brother was avoiding me.
Eventually, Lachlan pulled the car to a stop, the purr of the engine replaced by the deafening silence between us.
Lachlan climbed out of the car without a word, my pulse ticking higher as he circled to the rear.
I stared out the window at the marshy wetland, searching for a sign as to what we were doing here. He slammed the trunk, and several egrets launched into the air, their agitated croaks shattering the majestic silence. My fingers fumbled for my seat belt as my door opened. He held out a pair of tall, rubber boots. I took them as a hot uneasiness knotted my throat.
“What are these for?” I eyed the black duffel slung over his shoulder.
He crouched and pried off my tennis shoes before reaching for the boots. It took effort to keep my breathing steady as he slipped one on. “It’s muddy out there.” A strand of dark hair fell over his brow. “And there are snakes.”
“I could have lived without knowing that,” I muttered as he slid on the other boot.
Lachlan chuckled as he popped back onto his feet. Grabbing my hand, he pulled me out of the seat, hitching his head toward a footpath worn into the dirt nearby. “Come on. I only have you for a few hours.”
“You have me every night.” The words came out with less bite than intended—almost like I was simply reminding him.
He didn’t respond, nor did he offer more information as we started down the trail. He stayed ahead of me, lifting sweeping tendrils of moss from low-hanging branches and leading the way down the sun-dappled path. The briny tang of saltwater mingled with the earthy musk of the wetlands as we approached the slow-moving brackish waters of the bayou. Tupelos outlined the waterway, their swollen bases tapering into towering trunks. He paused, his attention turned away from the marsh, and I turned to find a cabin built against the base of an ancient cypress. Rustic and utilitarian, it blended into the landscape, save for a single plume of smoke curling from a steel chimney pipe.
“Is that—” I cut off as the door banged open, creaking on its hinges, and a male fae stepped onto the cabin’s small porch. His hair hung over his shoulders, a few braided plaits nestled against its black waves. He wore a leather vest unbuttoned over his muscled, tattooed chest and a pair of black jeans that faded to gray over his thighs. His pointed ears were each pierced nearly a dozen times. I found myself stepping closer to Lachlan.
“Goemon,” Lachlan called, shouldering his bag a little higher. “This is Cate. I brought her out to do some shooting. Thought I’d better warn you.”
“Do some what?” I hissed.
Goemon crossed his massive forearms over his chest. “Appreciate the heads-up. Stick to the north territory. The egrets are farther south.”
I blinked, surprised by not only his lack of deference to the prince but also his concern over…birds?
Lachlan tipped his head in acknowledgment. “Things have been quiet here?”
“Relatively.” Goemon searched the sky, frowning at whatever he saw in the clouds. “Even with your city full of foreigners.”
Did he mean the visiting courts?