Outcast (Book Two of the Forever Faire Series): A Fae Fantasy Romance Novel by Hazel Hunter Page B
Authors: Hazel Hunter
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assure its sturdiness. Since the Winter Feast joust always proved to be the most well-attended of their shows, the additional seating would be welcome. Jannon only welcomed the opportunity to pound something other than his skull against a wall.
Still, he’d managed to keep away from Tara Rowe for another day.
Tomorrow he would rise before dawn and take a nag and the old logging cart into the woods. Perhaps he’d build a hovel for himself there. Ryan often retreated to his, and if Jannon locked himself inside, in time he might rid himself of this damnable awareness of her. Even now he swore he could feel the willow-o-wisp warmth of her body, and smell the tantalizing scent of her skin.
“I didn’t know you were a carpenter,” a low voice said behind him.
Jannon kept his back to her as he plied his hammer against nothing that needed it.
Tara came around him and stepped under the stand, bracing her back against a strut. “You can talk to me, you know. My sister won’t tear your head off if you do.”
“Think again.” He shoved his sledge into his work belt. Perhaps rudeness would send her away. “Why do you plague me now?”
“Sorry. I wish I wasn’t a disease.” She looked away from him. Regret instantly lanced through his chest. “But I can’t stop being a changeling, right? Can’t hand in my evil little sister card. Can’t escape whatever is coming.”
Jannon tugged her out from under the stand and studied her delicate face. “You are not evil. I could not abide evil in my bed. The slime, the flesh-piercing spines—none of which you have.” He forced himself to let her go, but tapped the tip of her nose. “There. Give back that card.”
Tara didn’t laugh as he’d expected. “Not quite yet. My sister had this woman come to read the tarot for us. My cards were full of swords and prisons and darkness. It was like the worst tarot reading ever.”
Jannon wondered if he should tear off Kayla’s head. “Tell me you did not pay coin for this foolishness.”
“No, it was free.” Her chin wobbled. “I think that makes it worse.”
Tucking her against his chest felt as natural to Jannon as stroking a soothing hand along the delicate arch of her spine. “Prisons can be escaped, and darkness may be defeated by no more than a single candle. As for the swords, I am very good with blades, so you may give them to me.” When she didn’t reply, he asked, “Have you spoken to your sister about this?”
She shook her head against his chest. “She’s mad at me. Sick of me, too. She wants to be with Ryan, and I’m always in the way. Well, not for much longer.”
Alarmed now, Jannon drew back, holding her at arm’s length. “What are you saying, Tara? You know you cannot leave the camp. Never tell me you are thinking of going to Dirk Blackstone.”
“It’s okay. I’m staying. I have to.” She looked down at his boots, and then jerked her head up, a strange urgency in her eyes. “Will you dance with me at the Winter Feast?”
Jannon grimaced. “I am not much for dancing. Brawling, now, I am your man.” As soon as the words left him he silently cursed himself. “What I mean to say is, there will be others more capable as partners.”
“But no one else likes me but you.” Her smoky eyes filled with shadows. “Just one dance, please?”
The little wench had his battered heart in her grip, Jannon thought, and he was never going to pry it free. “Wear stout slippers tomorrow night.”
“You’d never hurt me.” A sad smile touched her lips before she turned and walked toward the tents.
As Jannon watched her go, he wondered why she left him feeling that her words had meant more. He swatted at something crawling over the back of his neck, and then felt the uneasiness leave him.
“So I am to dance.” Jannon bent to retrieve the sack of joining pegs. “’Twill be easier than brawling, surely.”
Chapter 10
“ W E MISSED YOU at the evening meal, my liege.” Wallace carried a tray
Still, he’d managed to keep away from Tara Rowe for another day.
Tomorrow he would rise before dawn and take a nag and the old logging cart into the woods. Perhaps he’d build a hovel for himself there. Ryan often retreated to his, and if Jannon locked himself inside, in time he might rid himself of this damnable awareness of her. Even now he swore he could feel the willow-o-wisp warmth of her body, and smell the tantalizing scent of her skin.
“I didn’t know you were a carpenter,” a low voice said behind him.
Jannon kept his back to her as he plied his hammer against nothing that needed it.
Tara came around him and stepped under the stand, bracing her back against a strut. “You can talk to me, you know. My sister won’t tear your head off if you do.”
“Think again.” He shoved his sledge into his work belt. Perhaps rudeness would send her away. “Why do you plague me now?”
“Sorry. I wish I wasn’t a disease.” She looked away from him. Regret instantly lanced through his chest. “But I can’t stop being a changeling, right? Can’t hand in my evil little sister card. Can’t escape whatever is coming.”
Jannon tugged her out from under the stand and studied her delicate face. “You are not evil. I could not abide evil in my bed. The slime, the flesh-piercing spines—none of which you have.” He forced himself to let her go, but tapped the tip of her nose. “There. Give back that card.”
Tara didn’t laugh as he’d expected. “Not quite yet. My sister had this woman come to read the tarot for us. My cards were full of swords and prisons and darkness. It was like the worst tarot reading ever.”
Jannon wondered if he should tear off Kayla’s head. “Tell me you did not pay coin for this foolishness.”
“No, it was free.” Her chin wobbled. “I think that makes it worse.”
Tucking her against his chest felt as natural to Jannon as stroking a soothing hand along the delicate arch of her spine. “Prisons can be escaped, and darkness may be defeated by no more than a single candle. As for the swords, I am very good with blades, so you may give them to me.” When she didn’t reply, he asked, “Have you spoken to your sister about this?”
She shook her head against his chest. “She’s mad at me. Sick of me, too. She wants to be with Ryan, and I’m always in the way. Well, not for much longer.”
Alarmed now, Jannon drew back, holding her at arm’s length. “What are you saying, Tara? You know you cannot leave the camp. Never tell me you are thinking of going to Dirk Blackstone.”
“It’s okay. I’m staying. I have to.” She looked down at his boots, and then jerked her head up, a strange urgency in her eyes. “Will you dance with me at the Winter Feast?”
Jannon grimaced. “I am not much for dancing. Brawling, now, I am your man.” As soon as the words left him he silently cursed himself. “What I mean to say is, there will be others more capable as partners.”
“But no one else likes me but you.” Her smoky eyes filled with shadows. “Just one dance, please?”
The little wench had his battered heart in her grip, Jannon thought, and he was never going to pry it free. “Wear stout slippers tomorrow night.”
“You’d never hurt me.” A sad smile touched her lips before she turned and walked toward the tents.
As Jannon watched her go, he wondered why she left him feeling that her words had meant more. He swatted at something crawling over the back of his neck, and then felt the uneasiness leave him.
“So I am to dance.” Jannon bent to retrieve the sack of joining pegs. “’Twill be easier than brawling, surely.”
Chapter 10
“ W E MISSED YOU at the evening meal, my liege.” Wallace carried a tray
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