Chapter 4 Tegwyn
Tegwyn
As I live and breathe... A human girl.
I have to pinch myself to make sure I’m not dreaming. Nope. She’s as real as the bow and quiver that hangs from my shoulder.
I drag her out of the marsh, lying her flat on the bank so I can check her pulse. It’s faint but there.
My gaze finds the kelpie floating in the water, its blood-red eyes glazed over with death, and I send a silent prayer to the goddess Maghelena.
Forgive me.
What have I done? I killed one of my own just to save a human. I’m definitely going to hell for this.
I have no idea why I intervened. The moment I caught her trail through the woods, I became possessed; I had to find the source of that delightful, honeysuckle scent, and that’s when I found her at the mercy of the kelpie.
Why is she here? The north is Fae territory. I’m surprised she managed to survive this long.
I locate her bags, finding one filled with rations, and another with a map and a music box. Then I sniff a couple of apples, hissing when I detect Fae magic.
Pixies—wicked little blights.
It looks like they glamoured her bags, making them appear as if they were empty. They just couldn’t help themselves, could they?
What must have gone through the poor thing’s mind when she thought her food was gone?
My eyes flick back to her unconscious form. The worry lines have vanished from her fair countenance, and she almost looks at peace.
But I know that face will be etched with horror the moment she re-opens those sweet sea-green eyes again. She made a grave mistake coming here.
Although she may not be a complete idiot; she came here bearing iron on her person. It’s close by. I can tell by the burning itch of my skin, and the way my stomach threatens to eject its contents.
Iron is harmful to the Fae. It incapacitates us, and this girl is fully aware of that. The creatures of this forest won’t take the slight lightly, and I suppose saving her from the kelpie was pointless in hindsight.
Either way, she’s dead. There’s nothing more I can do for her.
But I find myself unable to leave her side, and the longer I gaze at her sopping wet form on the grass, her chest gently rising with each breath, the more reluctant I become to do so.
I’m no idiot. I’m wholly aware of the effect she’s having on me—and most other males, too, I bet, Fae or otherwise.
The girl is beautiful. Painfully so.
Anyone with eyes can see that, and I can’t help but be drawn to her honeyed scent again as it makes me wonder...
Why am I so attracted to her?
Unfortunately, her beauty only makes her an even bigger target. What am I going to do with her?
I can’t just leave her to the wolves.
If the cold doesn’t get to her first, then the wicked denizens of this forest surely will.
I spy a glint of gold around her slender neck, and my resolve firms. If there’s one thing faeries love more than a fair maid, it’s jewellery. I’ll take care of her…for a price.
The girl is coming home with me.
The pot bubbles and spits on the stove, sending clouds of vapour across the small, dark cave. It may be cramped and dark to some, but it has been my sanctuary for many years. I personally think the stalagmites give it a homely touch.
Or are they stalactites?
Maybe the girl will know the difference when she finally wakes.
She’s still sleeping in the other cave, and my heart flaps in my chest at the thought, making me stir my spoon faster.
She’s the first visitor I’ve ever had in this cave…
I straighten, then I swallow, using my cravat to wipe the steam that wets my face.
What do I do? Should I make tea? I’m sure I have an old, dusty set of porcelain lying around somewhere.
She groans, and I snap my head around, spying a shadow along the far wall.
She’s awake.
Shit.
Suddenly, she gives a loud, shrill gasp, and then everything falls completely silent—well, all except the pounding of my heart.
Time may as well be frozen.
My skin breaks out in a cold sweat when I hear those soft footsteps, and my eyes roam the cave, noticing the dirt and grime. Cobwebs drape across the walls, and I curse.
Yet, they have nothing on me: the most frightening entity in this entire cave.
She’s coming closer, so I grab my cloak from the back of a chair, using it to mask my face. Then I find my gloves, pulling them up to my elbows. I even retract my claws so as not to startle the poor thing.
Finally, she steps into the cave, and I feel those big eyes boring into my spine. I don’t dare look over my shoulder; I’m afraid to see what kind of face she’s making.
She does nothing else but stare, and the suspense is killing me. One of us must break the ice, or we could be at this forever.
She speaks, “Who…who are you?”
The sound of her sweet, dulcet voice catches me off guard, and I’m at a loss for words. My mouth dries, and I lose the ability to breathe.
What’s happening to me?
Somehow, I muster enough strength to offer her my hospitality. “Please…take a seat.”
She doesn’t move an inch, so I angle my head, examining her from the corner of my eye.
Maybe she didn’t hear me.
Drawing a breath, I say with a little more force, “I said, take a seat.”
She flinches. So much for being amicable. It’s just hard to speak gently when you have a rasp to your voice.
One second passes by. And then two by the time she whispers, “You…saved my life.”
My heart skips a beat, and I drop the spoon, gazing at the wall before me. I did save her, and I’m still pondering why.
I murdered a fellow faerie just to save a human. What is the world coming to?
“Th-thank you,” she mutters, and something warm and buttery fills my veins, turning my mouth into a strange shape.
I think I’m…smiling.
“You’re welcome,” I reply, cringing at the way my voice trembles.
Silence hovers over us like a heavy cloud, and in a bid to break the tension, I offer her a seat again. “Please, sit.”
She does as I ask this time, sitting with her hands on her lap. I feel her probing gaze the whole time I stir the stew.
Her small intake of breath redirects my attention to the table. “Where…where are my bags?”
Shame trickles down my face, and then I close my eyes, rubbing the bridge of my nose.
This will be interesting…
Since I’m a faerie, and therefore cannot lie in fear of upsetting my goddess, I decide to give her the truth. “I’ve confiscated them.”
A brief pause. “Why?”
How do I tell her that I have trust issues, and I’ve hidden her things deep away in my lair where she can’t find them?
She had iron in those bags. I had no choice. Iron makes me sick, so I cannot permit her to have it in my cave.
I try to change the subject, grabbing the spoon. “Supper’s almost ready. You must be hungry.”
She thinks long and hard for a moment, and I can almost hear the cogs of her mind spinning. Then she rises, heading for the exit. “Thank you for your hospitality, kind sir, but I must be on my way. So, if you would please show me to my bags.”
I watch her, dumbfounded. “Won’t you at least stay for supper? It would be terribly rude if I didn’t at least offer you a warm meal.”
She pauses, eyeing the stew warily.
There’s no point in beating around the bush. She knows what I am; there’s no missing the way my eyes glow beneath the hood.
The girl is smart. She knows not to accept anything from the Fae, be that food, gifts, or favours. But I mean no harm, truly. I genuinely do just want to give her supper.
I lift the pot, and she steps closer, giving an investigative sniff. “Is that rosemary?”
An ironic choice, really, given the name, but yes, it is rosemary.
“What else?”
Before she can protest, her stomach growls, and I snort.
She gives me a withering look, then sighs, taking her place at the table again. “All right. One bowl, and then you can take me to my bags and show me the way out. Please,” she adds, remembering her manners.
I pour a generous amount of stew into a bowl, placing it onto the table before her, and she studies its contents carefully.
I watch, amused, as she brings the spoon to her lips, seeming to be at war with herself. It’s good of her to be cautious, but really, it’s just mushroom stew.
Not glamoured or poisoned in any shape or form.
Finally, she slips the spoon into her mouth, eyes lighting up with surprise. “This is actually delicious.”
I scoff. “Well, don’t sound so surprised.”
She doesn’t hear my retort as she helps herself to another spoonful, and maybe I did spike the stew with some magic after all. The girl is obsessed.
She clears the bowl in minutes, and I stare, impressed. “My, you must have been hungry.”
She nods, wiping the grease from her lips. “Can I have more?”
I watch as she devours another bowl, and the moment she’s finished, she leans back in the squeaky chair, closing her eyes.
She’s a far cry from the helpless girl who was drowning in the marsh just a few hours ago. I’ve lulled her into a false sense of security.
I inch closer, expecting her to recoil, yet she stays put. When I grab the spare chair, she doesn’t flinch. She continues to hug her belly, eyes closed in deep thought.
I drum my fingers on the table. “I hope you don’t mind my asking, but what are you doing all the way out here? You’re a far cry from civilization.”
Her eyes shoot wide open, and then she jumps to her feet, saying with more urgency, “Please, take me to my bags. I wish to leave.”
I regard her curiously. She’s trembling, avoiding my eyes. Is she afraid or something?
“People usually don’t come this far north unless they’re running from someone. Who are you running from?”
She sighs, “Please…if you would just take me to my bags, then I will be out of your hair.”
I tap my chin. “Are you running from your family?”
Finally, she looks me straight in the eyes, and there I meet those twin flames of green. “I won’t ask you again. Please, take me to my things.”
I watch as her hand slips into her pocket, and I bet she’s looking for her iron cross. Her face blanches when she finally realises it’s gone, and then she throws an accusatory glare in my direction.