Surviving The Unseelie Lands, Author Unknown
With Aunt Cordelia still passed out on the sofa, I race upstairs to pack some essentials into a bag. There’s no telling when I’ll be back…ifI’ll be back.
Maddox and I take the most direct path to The Divide, which brings us along the edge of Rosehill. There are only a few cafés, but they’re packed to the brim. The fae inside gawk, their whispers following us the entire way.
Maddox is no longer the teasing man who let my cousin pinch him. He’s a predator, one hand on his dagger, his black eyes scanning the sea of faces for trouble.
Thankfully, we find none.
When we reach The Divide, I’m thankful for the persistent mist that swallows us whole, drenching the world in silence. Toward the end of the bridge, Maddox stretches an arm across, stopping me in my tracks next to a stack of boards and a hammer. It takes ten minutes for him to tack them back into place, a moment for us to cross, and another five for him to remove them again.
When I ask why they’re gone, he simply says that they’re not taking any chances.
“Because of the wolves?”
He offers a grim nod. “We have not seen any, but the guards on the other side swear they have, and we all know who the king believes.”
Ever’s life isn’t the only one on the line. One word from the king and the Unseelie’s access to the well could be cut off too. What would they do then?
In the gray light of day, the graveyard of bones on the other side looks like the setting of a horror novel. Skulls of all shapes and sizes line the path along with empty ribcages and other bones. Some are nearly as tall as me. Thank goodness whatever terrifying creatures they belonged to are dead.
Here, Maddox moves with an easy confidence, striding far too fast for me to keep up. When he realizes, he apologizes and slows down a fraction, but I still have to walk at a clip. We take a right at the mammoth skull of a horned beast, then a left at a pile of tiny skulls.
All of a sudden, the silence is replaced by the low hum of conversation. Voices grow louder, deeper. The mist slowly subsides, revealing twenty or so painted carriages, all parked in a circle, with their backs facing one another.
Beyond is a forest of trees taller than I’ve ever seen before.
“Where’s the village?” I whisper to Maddox.
His brow furrows. “This is the village.”
Thisis where the Unseelie live? There are no paved streets, only dirt paths. No cafés or libraries or pubs. A group of women hunker around a fire, turning a spit holding some sort of dead animal. Two of them bear silver scars shaped like kissing crescent moons along their necks and shoulders.
Unseelie mating bonds.
The others’ gray-green skin remains unmarked. Is one of them Everett’s fiancée?
Formerfiancée.
The woman who lied to trap him.
The reason he is all alone.
I wish I knew her name so that I could give her a piece of my mind.
When the women see us, they fall silent.
Their clothes are plain earthen tones of grays, browns, and greens.
If I’d known what to expect, I would’ve changed out of this canary yellow gown.
Loathing oozes from their stares.
Is this how the Unseelie feel every time they cross the border into Rosehill? It’s awful.
A handful of children screech, running in the center of the circle of carriages, chasing each other in a game of tag.
At least something in our worlds is the same.