Summon by Penelope Fletcher Page A

prowling around a
tree she’d most likely climbed. Rae put her finger to her lips to shush him
when his deep grumbles got louder.
    So loud Conall’s head jerked.
    Baako lifted onto his hunches and pawed at the
bark. Beady eyes fixed on Rae he cocked his head and growled. Eyeballing the
shifter, Rae pointed in the opposite direction to Conall’s dwelling. Baako
vigorously shook his head. Russet fur rippling, he lowered his bulk and lay
down.
    Rae returned her attention to peering at Conall and
me.
    This is
the Rae I know, impulsive with the subtly of a hurricane.
    Dropping my arm, I borrowed a gesture from the
female awkwardly hiding in the trees and rolled my eyes.

 

 
    CHAPTER EIGHT

 
 
    Rae

 
    Covertly
studying two of the fairies most important to me, I scaled the stout oak from
which Conall carved his dwelling.
    After the discovery of my origins my talent at
climbing no longer struck me as odd. I secretly considered it something I
excelled at regardless of it being a common trait of fairykind.
    Conall and Lochlann were deep in conversation. Dark
and light heads bent towards each other they spoke in low, intense tones. Their
rangy bodies relaxed and sprawled on the stoop of Conall’s staircase as you do
in the company of a trusted friend.
    They made a formidable sight. I doubted anybody saw
them together this laid-back.
    I found my brother’s formality sickening when it
came to Lochlann, my personal opinion because Lochlann annoyed me. Conall took
his duty as a Wyld Warrior with the utmost gravity. The thought of acting less
than respectful to Lochlann would likely send him into hysterics.
    Not that I could envision my austere brother
overcome with any emotion.
    Lochlann was a stickler for tradition and gentry
reserve too.
    Maybe that’s why their friendship worked so well.
They supported each other regardless of the other’s failings.
    Lochlann sighed and tipped his head back. He was
High Lord as he’d wanted, but I swear, something altered his perception of the
future. Demeanour despondent, the steadfast conviction I’d grudgingly admired
faded leaving uncertainty. His refined features were delicate in contrast to my
brother’s swarthy complexion. Conall’s features were harder. The strong plane
of his forehead sloped to meet his heavy brow and wide nose bridge.
    The glance I shot my Elder lingered, and my arms
stilled above my head, and my legs tensed in a vertical stride.
    Deep lines bracketed Conall’s mouth and crinkled
the outer corners of bloodshot eyes. Hair usually swept neatly into a low
ponytail was loose in knotted tangles. His shoulders were hunched, and the
vertebrae of his spine poked through his skin under the red marks left from
wearing his sword.   
    Disturbed by Conall’s grim appearance, I continued
my climb with less stealth and more impulse. I shifted awkwardly to get a
better foothold as I reached my chosen bough. The hurried movement caused my
lower body to scrape against the bark.
    Lochlann’s head lifted.
    I ducked, wings tight to my back. I held my breath
and froze; vexed further movement might expose my hiding place. My tail curled
around her ankle and held on.
    Lochlann’s gaze raked the tree limbs above Conall’s
home, his brow furrowed.
    Pressing my cheek to the branch I straddled, I
mouthed a curse. My ears twitched as I listened for an indication he climbed to
investigate. His instincts were honed for battle. I should’ve known he’d feel
my eyes on them.
    I wasn’t ready to talk to him or my brother. Too
many thoughts crowded my head. Too much could go wrong if I spoke to him
– to anybody – before I was ready.
    I’d seen the guilt threatening to crush Breandan
when he’d realised he’d ruined the balance I died for. Thinking of facing that
depth of remorse on the face of Lochlann and my Elder made me queasy.
    “Do you think the witch can re-open the doorway to
send those monsters back?” Lochlann asked.
    “Perhaps,” Conall replied.
    It was