Chapter Two
I came to slowly, aware of lying on the floor next to a huge fireplace, though the room was dark and I could see very little.
There were others in the room with me—I could hear their soft snores and heavy breathing, and I felt the pointed tip of a heavy boot give my ribs a couple of hard nudges.
My eyes flew open and a harsh voice next to me said, “He’s awake, Your Grace. ”
I flinched away as the same person squatted down beside me, peering into my face. He was inhumanly handsome, though cold and hard looking. I saw his pointed ears and knew at once that he must be Fae and my blood ran cold. He lifted his lip in a contemptuous sneer as he stared at me.
“I see that he is,” came a bored, languid voice from nearby. “Kicking a man in the ribs generally tends to rouse him, Darragh.”
The dark-haired man’s porcelain-like face flushed, and he looked startled.
“B-but I thought you wanted to speak with him right away, sire. I humbly apologize. Would you like to wait for morning? I can put him back to sleep easily enough.” The dark-haired man was still staring directly down into my face, and for a wild moment I thought that he might be addressing me, so I quickly flinched away and dropped my gaze.
It was well known that the Fae were easily irritated and highly unpredictable creatures.
If they felt offended by something a mortal said or did, they might retaliate in any number of ways.
There were all kinds of stories about them, like the rumor that they stole babies from their beds and left changelings in their places.
Or so everyone said, though I’d never believed it.
From the old stories I’d heard, a less paternal or nurturing group of individuals I never hoped to meet, so what would entice them to ever steal and then care for a baby?
My own Faery father had callously cast my mother aside the moment he learned she was expecting me, so I very much doubted Faeries went around taking babies for themselves.
Knocking the baby’s brains out with a rock because they were angry at the parents for some unfathomable reason, however? Now that I could easily believe.
People said that Fae could lead a traveler astray, and if you came across a path where they traveled, you’d be wise to avoid it. Or if it couldn’t be avoided altogether, then the traveler should wear his clothing inside out to confuse the Fae and try to avoid danger.
It was said that one man even knocked a corner from his house because the offending bricks blocked a Faery path by a few inches, and often cottages were built with the front and back doors in a line, so that the owners could, if they needed to, leave them both open and let the Faeries troop through all night, in case they suddenly decided, in their own perverse way, to change their paths.
People said you could bring a Fae curse down on your head without even trying too hard.
And even saying a simple and kindly meant “thank you” to one of them was dangerous because they could perceive it as them then owing you a debt.
Because of all these and many other legends, people used wards against the Fae—charms like bells on their bridles and four-leaf clovers, or they made the sign of crossed fingers to banish magic.
People believed the straight index finger warded off misfortune and witchcraft, while the bent middle finger represented blessings and luck flowing in.
Crossed together, they supposedly kept malign forces at bay.
It was generally believed that if a person knew the name of a particular Faery, they could summon him by it and force him to do their bidding.
I wondered if that were true. It seemed unlikely, and why anyone would voluntarily desire a Faery’s presence in the first place was a mystery to me.
You certainly couldn’t trust him to do what you wanted, and the creature would surely find a way to retaliate with a curse.
Then the hapless mortal who called him up might find themselves sitting on a lily pad somewhere in the marshes, croaking and catching flies with his tongue.
No, the Fae were far too dangerous and tricky to deal with.
It was best to leave them strictly alone.
I only wished I could, as I was currently lying in this dim room, surrounded by them on all sides.
There had to be at least a half dozen or more men in there. Could this humble room with the mixed smells of stew and ale and old sweat, along with that odd floral scent be one of the rooms the innkeeper let at the taverns? Was I still in Jorvik?
“Since you’ve gone ahead and awakened him, Captain Darragh, I may as well speak to him, I suppose.
” The voice was irritable and came from beside me, but the one who was speaking was hidden in the shadows of the room.
It was a sultry voice, and it flowed over me like warm honey, so I was curious, despite my predicament.
I peered deeper into the shadows and finally saw the speaker more clearly, leaning up on one elbow from a bed against the wall, his eyes, as green and shiny as polished emeralds, looking me over in an assessing way.
He had been lounging on the bed with several large pillows stacked behind his shoulders.
I took a long look back at him and found I couldn’t breathe for a few seconds.
I had known from the first that these men were Fae, but one look at this man told me immediately that he almost certainly was a Fae Lord.
His skin literally glowed with beauty in the light of the fire.
Come to think of it, so did the man next to me, along with the others.
I wondered if they were Elven or Faery. I wasn’t sure which, but I wanted nothing to do with any of the savage creatures, no matter how glorious their appearance.
It was said that venomous snakes had bright “warning colors” to advertise how lethal they were too.
The handsome man in the bed had points to his ears like the others and a fur pulled over his hips.
His fine linen shirt was unbuttoned and partly open, exposing a strong, muscular chest. The skin that I could see had many large, colorful tattoos—not only on his chest, but also on his neck.
Later, I’d find that both his arms were covered too.
He had lined his eyes with kohl, like a tavern woman might, but this was definitely no woman.
Muscles rippled across his bare chest, and his torso looked like it had been carved from marble.
His louche demeanor—the way he slouched against the pillows, his head resting on the wall behind him, even the unbuttoned shirt he wore with the ruffled cuffs—gave him an undeniable appeal.
He had a luxurious mass of curly black hair, and he was easily the most gorgeous creature I had ever seen, though it was hard to say why exactly.
His face wasn’t beautiful—it was far too vivid and intricate for mere beauty.
I’d once been out on a fishing boat with one of my uncles, a good way out to sea, and this Faery lord reminded me of how I’d felt then.
I had stood by the sides of the boat, staring down at the heaving waves on that occasion.
The sea had been unchanging and mysterious for as far as the eye could see, but so unknowable and dangerous that it had frightened me—like this lord did.
Yet I couldn’t turn away, just like I could never have turned my back on him. I wouldn’t have dared.
“Tell me your name boy,” he said, his voice honey sweet and enticing. Suddenly I knew, without any doubt that this man was highly seductive and therefore perilous in the extreme, and I began to tremble. He sighed, clearly losing patience. I didn’t think he had a huge supply to start with.
“Why don’t you answer me? Gods, don’t tell me you’re as simple-minded as you are plain. Are you too frightened of me to speak?” I couldn’t decide if he was actually rude or just Fae, though I thought it was much the same thing.
“I have a gag in my mouth,” I managed to remind him, getting the words out past the handkerchief jammed in my mouth.
It was loose, though the damned thing was still between my teeth.
I may have been a little surly, but I thought I was entitled to be, considering, and they were probably only going to kill me soon anyway.
What I’d said was probably coming out mostly garbled, but the Fae Lord must have understood me at least a little, because he lifted his eyes to the ceiling, as if appealing for strength and jerked his head impatiently at the man kneeling next to me.
“Darragh, for the gods’ sake…”
The man flushed and quickly loosened the tie at the back of my head, pulling the rag from my mouth.
“Try again. Give me your name.”
I coughed instead, my mouth as dry as dust. I saw that it irritated the handsome creature on the bed to wait for me to finish, so some perverseness of my nature caused me to do it some more.
“Good gods, do you have some disease? Stop all that coughing.”
“Then can I have some water first?”
“No!” he roared, clearly out of patience.
I started coughing again, even longer and louder, and he snarled at me.
“Damn it, Darragh, give him water.”
The man he was calling Darragh went to a bucket in the corner and brought back a dipper full of cool water, which I drank down greedily.
“Speak,” the Faery lord said. “Quickly now. Give me your name. I’m losing patience.”
“I believe that ship sailed a while ago,” I muttered, answering him rudely too, because I was tied up on the floor while he lounged on a bed, and I’d been thirsty, damn it. I barked out one more harsh cough and finally spoke. “My name is Braden Wanderer. What’s yours?”
He ignored my question like I thought he would, but he had a follow up one of his own. “And what are you?”
“Me? I-I’m a wool merchant. I don’t have much money, though, if that’s what you’re after.”