Chapter 5 #2
A cruel voice rang throughout the room as a male fae pushed his way to the front of the pack.
He had pale skin and light brown hair that curled toward his chin.
A predatory gaze pierced Audra’s, his face split with a callous, demented smile.
Audra shivered, goose bumps erupting across her arms. He bounced on the balls of his feet, his hand clenching and unclenching around the wolf’s head on the pommel of a sword strapped to his trousers as if he were eager to slide it free from the belted prison on his hip and find a new home within the bodies scattered about like prey.
He licked his lip, his grin lecherous.
The first male, the one with the long coat, stepped forward until he was just behind the one with hungry eyes.
“Vrenn,” he murmured, as he placed a firm hand on the other’s shoulder.
Whispering something in a language unknown to Audra, he strode past the hungry-looking one, who rolled his eyes before backing up a half step and loosening his grip on the sword.
While this lecherous one, Vrenn, was clearly eager to wield his sword, this other male was obviously the leader.
Audra inhaled sharply as she studied the latter. Was that pity in his almond-shaped eyes? Pity … The emotion frightened her more than Vrenn’s hostile words.
“Good evening, my name is Lord Khari. I hail from Zenaida, the most powerful empire in the Veridian Realm—what you know as the fae realm. As appointed fae-human liaison for the northwest region of Khaveah, I come with directives straight from our queen.” He surveyed them.
“In an orderly and peaceful fashion, disperse to the courtyard for processing and possible transport to our realm.”
His voice was quiet, silken, yet commanding. He expected nothing less than absolute obedience.
Processing? Possible … transport? The words ricocheted through Audra’s mind, but no matter how many times she replayed them, she couldn’t make them make sense.
“Let’s go. Out!” Vrenn barked.
“Absolutely not,” Kamari said to the fae.
“These people are citizens of Ruscal, and, therefore, under the protection of King Tariq. Your empire holds no sway in Ruscal, and we owe no obedience.” Her father slammed his palms onto the bar beside him, raising his voice and his chin.
“All here are guests in my establishment. They aren’t required to leave if they do not wish to. ”
“Father, please,” Audra said, placing her hand on his arm, urging him to be quiet. She didn’t like their odds.
“No, Audra,” he snapped, refusing to concede. “We are not a flock of sheep to be herded about.”
The fae by the door exchanged apprehensive glances with each other. Their hands shifted on their weapons. Unlike Vrenn and Lord Khari, they were armed with staffs, the metal spears appearing so sharp that Audra had no doubt they could cut the humans down with ease.
But Lord Khari did not indulge the apprehension, remaining calm.
“Innkeeper, while your boldness and desire to protect your patrons are admirable, your claims of protection from King Tariq are a fallacy.” He withdrew a rolled document from an interior coat pocket and offered it to Kamari. “See for yourself, citizen of Ruscal.”
Audra’s father snatched it, his eyes flitting over the swirling black ink. His face showed shock at first, then his eyes narrowed in anger, his hands clenching the letter.
Lord Khari smiled, not unkindly.
He raised his voice to address all of them.
“As you see, I speak only truth. This letter bears King Tariq’s official seal.
We have generously compensated him, and he has given his full blessing for this endeavor.
Opposing us will only delay the inevitable.
The sooner you understand that,” he said, glancing back toward Father’s furious expression, “the less violent this needs to be.”
Had their own king truly sanctioned this madness?
One of the young girls began to cry again, but the low keen was quickly stifled by her mother’s hand over her mouth.
Someone expelled a hacking cough, choking on the smoke filling the inn.
The fine hairs on the nape of Audra’s neck raised.
Vrenn was looking at her, shifting from foot to foot, his eyes brimming with barely restrained brutality. He glanced from her face down to her hands, where they gripped her father’s arm, her knuckles blanched.
This made Vrenn smile. “Listen to us, old man. It will be better for your daughter if you don’t put up a fight.”
Every instinct in Audra’s body urged her to run, to hide from this male fae. Without taking his mad-dog eyes off her, he said to Lord Khari, “She’s one. The innkeeper’s daughter—there. No need to bleed her; I can smell it from here.”
Lord Khari’s gaze flicked away from the spreading fire to appraise her.
She felt like an insect who’d been punctured through with a needle, a specimen pinned to a board for dissection.
His gaze swept over her from head to toe, his own nostrils flaring as if scenting her.
His lips pressed into a flat line and he nodded.
“Indeed. She looks the right age too. Have her questioned and put on the list for transport.”
Her father recoiled at these words. “My daughter will not be going anywhere with you, the king’s ‘blessing’ be damned.”
“Yeah!”
“She isn’t going anywhere, and neither are we!”
Audra was surprised by the shouts from behind her, coming from the inn’s patrons.
She looked around at all the frightened yet determined faces. This was an inn filled with unsuccessful bandits, destitute families, vagabonds, and fraudulent merchants. None of them could rebuff these fae, these creatures from legends.
But neither could they just follow orders without a fight.
They had been fighting to survive their whole lives.
These fae were just another link in a long chain of oppressors—the king’s procurators, the Coastal Watch, local crime syndicates—all determined to subdue them, jail them, tax them, keep them poor and uneducated, hungry, and wanting.
Audra squared her shoulders. They may not win, but they would fight.
Kamari turned to Audra and said, low this time, though she was sure the intruders could still hear, “Behind me, love.”
If the situation weren’t so dire, Audra might have snorted.
She was not about to comply; the last six months of grief had taken a heavy toll on his health, and besides that, her father was nearing his eighth decade.
He should be the one to stand behind her.
She was about to tell him as much when Father withdrew his favorite dagger—a small, rust-eaten, ancient thing he’d discovered in a sea cave when Salt Hollow had been a growing town and Fernwell Inn was still his heart’s dream.
She didn’t have time to react, to stop him before he tore free of her grip and charged.
Audra tried to grab for him, to pull him back to safety, but she missed by a hair’s breadth, the soft fabric of his shirt just barely brushed by her fingertips.
Her father never stood a chance.
In a blur of movement, Vrenn skirted around his leader, feet light as a dancer, despite his stature, and raised the wolf’s head on the pommel of his sword. Its pointed, cavernous maw struck Father’s temple with a sickening crunch.