The moonlight sparkled on the ebony waters of the loch, a cool sea breeze causing Nectan to wrap his cloak tighter around himself. The settlement was quiet, the crannog a black shape against the stars.
Despite the peaceful night, unease touched Nectan like a bitter bite on the breeze. Tomorrow night he would present the wilding to the Gathered Fey.
Thomas’ acceptance of his Fey nature had grown, that much was clear. It showed in the ease with which he called upon the power, but also in the subtle shift in how he moved—more in the easy way of the Fey than in the graceless awkwardness of the humans.
The bright, sharp force of his power made the others uneasy, especially because it was in a wilding Traveller. And they all knew of the Binding. Strang had made sure of that.
Nectan’s lips f
