“Thin, weathered skin stretched over the cheekbones below, bracketing a narrow, crooked nose streaked with broken blood vessels. The sallow skin stretched down into wrinkles surrounding thin lips, which remained slightly parted after his outburst. “The dark fayrie,” he repeated, elbowing his friend. “The bean nighe.” A fairy? I wasn’t going to hazard a guess at the second thing he said. “Nae, nae,” the other man said. “Is a wee lass, is all.” “What do ye ken,” the first man snapped back at his f...riend, but only taking his eyes off of me for the briefest moment. “Yer scarin’ the poor lass, Fergus,” the second man said, turning toward me on his barstool. He smiled through the scruffy light beard that framed his face. “Miss, Fergus dunnae mean nae harm.” This man’s features were less ragged than those of his friend, though his visage had been weathered by the years as well. His eyes were almost as black as Douglas Black’s, though I caught a hint of sapphire in them.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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