Chapter 9 Tegwyn
Tegwyn
I’ve just finished my latest perimeter check of the mountain. Since the unfortunate bugbear incident, I’ve become rather obsessed with setting up various wards to keep it away from my home.
Now that I have a human in my midst, all kinds of faerie ilk will be surrounding my mountain in hopes of devouring her.
And they won’t just devour her; they will consume her soul, slowly sucking the essence from her lungs until she’s nothing but a husk.
Over my dead body. If any bugbears want Ivy, then they’ll have to get through me.
I never thought I would see the day I’d be protecting a human, of all insufferable creatures, but payment is payment.
Ivy paid a handsome reward for safe sanctuary at my mountain, so I’m just giving the girl her money’s worth. If it wasn’t for our bargain, I probably wouldn’t even care what happened to her.
Maybe…
It’s hard to tell these days, but she does intrigue me. The human is obviously hiding something from me, something that she clearly doesn’t want me to know about. If she thinks the bugbear will distract me, then she is gravely mistaken.
I will find out.
Her face flashes up before me, and I pause mid-step. She’s on my mind constantly. I guess I’m just not used to having company in the mountain.
Up close, her sea-green eyes have streaks of blue, and they remind me of starbursts. Her eyelashes are the length that many human females desire, curling softly at the tips to rest against freckled cheeks, and her lips…fuck… They are as soft as the petals of a budding rose…
My heart thuds, just thinking about their shape and texture, and it’s no surprise I pricked her with my claw.
When I get excited, my claws come out, and I try to recall what I was thinking about.
Oh, of course. I was thinking about sucking on her rosebud lips until they were swollen with my teeth, and the blood fires hot through my veins, making my claws act of their own volition—claws designed for rending flesh, but they’re good for tearing off corsets, too.
I need to get a hold of myself. An ice-cold shower under the waterfall should do the trick.
A silvery light dazzles up ahead, and I shield my eyes, peering through the trees. It’s coming from a clearing, and I pick up the pace, eager to find the source of that ethereal light. I know that kind of magic, and it can’t be...
Finally, I arrive at the clearing, and the breath leaks from my lungs the instant I see it.
The creature chews at fresh shoots of grass, shaking her long, silvery mane. When the sun catches the individual strands, strands that shimmer with pure, untainted magic, I drop my quiver of arrows and get down on one knee.
The unicorn contemplates me with her jewel-black eyes, sighing softly with a shake of her head. Her mane stuns me yet again, and even with Fae eyes, it’s hard to make out her silhouette.
I’ve forgotten how to breathe.
Even amongst the Fae, there are creatures so rare, so enchanted, that they’re considered legendary.
The magical mare doesn’t move, frozen in time as she appraises me with that glittering eye of deep onyx, as if she approves of my bow.
The beginnings of a horn peek from her forelock. That’s where she stores her magic.
The equine stomps her hoof, and heat spreads through the clearing, chasing away the winter chill. I close my eyes, sighing in deep reverence.
It’s like being kissed by pure sunlight.
The unicorn vanishes into the woods with a flick of her tail, and I stay put until she’s out of sight, keeping my head bowed and knee planted on the ground.
She leaves a breath of spring air in her wake, and when I look up, I spy a glittering joy of snowdrops trailing behind her.
My heart pounds as I still don’t move from my crouched position. I feel so blessed to have seen a unicorn in the flesh.
They haven’t been seen in over a century. It was long believed that humanity had hunted them all into extinction, but it looks as if some may have survived.
I couldn’t help but notice the silver gash on her right flank. Whoever tried to hurt that sweet, guiltless creature deserves to rot.
That gash was definitely the work of a Dark Fae, and I curl my fists, releasing a light growl. I swear, if I ever get my hands on that faerie, I will kill them.
Rising to my feet, I sling my quiver back over my shoulder, stepping towards the snowdrops. I pluck one up from the ground, twirling it in my fingers.
Morning dew drips from its silky white petals, and inside each dewdrop radiates pure magic. Using my own magic to preserve the droplets, I pocket the flower away, then begin my trek back to the mountain.
Time for some experimenting.
I lock myself away in my study later that evening, gazing deeply into the lens of a light microscope. I do some bookkeeping on the side, deciding to kill two birds with one stone.
The unicorn’s magic looks even more spectacular up close, and I’m just grateful that I had the foresight to wear a pair of protective goggles. A single drop alone could blind the eye.
I reach across, adding another coin to the pile on my right.
One hundred and fifty gold lions, and I grind my teeth. Still not enough for safe passage across the Haunted Sea.
I’m Fae, so any captain worth their salt won’t take too kindly to my presence aboard their ship.
I’ll need to pay handsomely.
Many seafaring humans consider faeries bad luck on board. Many have had run-ins with merfolk at sea, so I doubt I’ll be any more well-received. A typical glamour won’t last long, so I need a backup plan. I could steal a boat, but I have no idea how to sail.
Bannog is my best chance, but it’s just a shame he’s out of my budget. I bet he only likes to be paid in Fae gold, too.
He may not even want money as a form of payment; he may prefer to strike a bargain with me instead. I hope he doesn’t ask for anything too precious.
Fae currency is quite different. Silver crescents are shaped like half-moons, whereas stallions are round. Golden suns resemble a five-pointed star, whereas lions are oval. Our copper is the same, shaped like a hexagon.
Yet, there’s one thing both currencies have in common—the face of His Majesty, King Corvis.
The Fae have been known to enchant their suns and crescents to resemble lions and stallions, and it fools many humans.
Most of the time.
We have no choice. Rogue numbers are dwindling, while the Seelie and Unseelie prosper in their castles and sprawling estates back in the faerielands.
I have no castle or estate. Nor do I have a single courtier or vassal to my name. Hell, I don’t even bear a title.
So, I do what I can to survive, living life on a precarious edge.
Damn it. Where was I again?
Right, one hundred and fifty…
As I place another gold sun onto a pile, I peer into the microscope, adding more notes to my diagram.
One dewdrop hosts a slew of magic, and it’s like peering into a miniature universe, one with a myriad of swirling galaxies and various star systems.
They blind and dazzle, so I adjust the visor on my goggles as I twist the dial on the microscope to get a closer inspection.
Breathtaking. It truly is like finding an undiscovered world, and I’m no different from a pioneer in that regard.
If only I could manipulate that unicorn’s magic somehow into fashioning myself a disguise, but a single dewdrop wouldn’t last. I would need more…
Bannog’s disguises harbour unlimited magic. No one knows how he does it, but folk say he weaves the magic into the garments with his very own hands.
Some believe he was blessed by the goddess herself to be able to perform such a delicate task. Unfortunately, if I want to get my hands on one of his rare glamours, then I’ll have to get in line. His waiting lists can be years long.
For most Fae, that’s nothing. We’re immortal and live a ridiculously long time. But I don’t have the luxury of time.
One of these days, I am going to get caught. Fae who are captured and imprisoned by humans don’t last long.
However, there may be someone who can help me jump the queue. Stannog, perhaps—Bannog’s sour-faced cousin. He owns a tavern just west of the mountain.
I haven’t given up on the necklace, though. Not yet. When I finally get a disguise, I can sell it on the human black market and get that five hundred.
Then, once I’ve accrued enough money, I can set sail and live out the rest of my immortal life on a deserted island where no one can bother me ever again.
Maybe I will make myself king of that island.
One can dream.
With a steady hand, I add another coin to the pile. My magic keeps them intact, for now, but there will come a day when I won’t even have a single drop left in my veins. I may even become mortal…
Perish the thought.
Footsteps echo down the tunnel, and I heave a sigh of frustration. Just when I found a moment’s peace.
My claws retract as her honeysuckle scent finds its way to my nose. Sometimes I abhor these heightened senses. It makes ignoring her all the harder.
She steps into the cave. I really should have made more of an effort at hiding this place. These are my private quarters.
Her sweet scent drifts my way, and I shut my eyes, ignoring the roaring rush in my head.
Does she have any idea what she does to me? Probably not. She’s as gullible as she looks.
I rein my beast in, willing my claws back inside my gloves.
“Oh… I thought I would find you here,” she remarks casually, and I roll my eyes.
I speak through gritted teeth, “Yes, so you have. Now feel free to leave again. I’m quite busy. Your foolish talk can wait.”
She falters at my dismissal, and I regard her from the corner of my eye. Her form wilts.
Maybe I was a little too brusque.
What can I say? Wickedness runs through my veins. I just wish she would hurry up and take the hint. I need to focus.
Ivy steps further into the cave, bringing her tantalising scent with her. “There’s no need to be so rude. I only came to say hello. You’ve been gone all day. Did you find any more bugbears?”
There’s no missing the shudder as she recalls the memory of the bugbear, and I finally give her the attention she so obviously craves.
“No. It appears the creature was alone, but fret not. I’ve set up various wards to keep it away from the mountain.”
While using up all my magic in the process, princess…
It is quite strange. I’m sacrificing what little magic I have just to keep her safe. Maybe I did get the short end of the stick in our bargain after all.
She’s going to drain my reserves at this rate.
“Thank goodness. At least I don’t have to worry about any nasty bugbears from now on. I’ve barely recovered from that last one.”
She giggles nervously, and I study her again.
I think she’s trying to make small talk. She can’t be that desperate for companionship, can she?
Now silence lingers in her stead, and I suppose her singsong voice does make an agreeable change to the dreariness.
Ivy is slowly bleeding life back into the mountain, and I’m not sure how to handle it.
I regard her once more in my peripheral vision. It appears she has nothing left to discuss. Still, I indulge her a little longer. “Is there something else you need?”
“Yes,” she replies. “Since it’s safe to go back outside, I was wondering if it would be okay if I collected firewood. The hearth died an hour ago, and I’ve grown rather cold.”
I snort. “Well, wear a coat.”
She watches me incredulously. “Well, I’m sorry for thinking that you would care.”
“I don’t.”
The human stares at me, dumbfounded, and I guess it’s too late to take back what I said.
Finally, she breathes a melancholy sigh, then vanishes from the cave.
Thank the goddess. Maybe now I can get some work done.
I turn back to my bookkeeping, placing another gold piece onto an enchanted pile.
Steady, focus…
The coins wobble, and I hold my breath.
To my relief, the pile remains intact, and I wipe the sweat from my brow. I’ve got this.
My magic might not fail me just yet.
“It’s my birthday tomorrow.”
I lose focus, and now I watch, helplessly, as the pile topples across the desk, right along with my magic and pride.
She made me lose my concentration, and all I can see now is bright vermilion.
Ivy visibly pales when I turn, giving her my undivided attention.
“I… erm…”
I have no idea what she sees in my eyes, but it’s enough to render her utterly speechless.
My lip curls, exposing my fangs. “Leave…”
She bumps into the wall, fumbling her way out until she vanishes with the wind. Once she’s gone, I throw my arms up, yelling at the top of my lungs. “Fuck!”
I kick my bureau like an insolent child, making more coins scatter in the process. Great. Now I’m going to have to start from the beginning.
Stupid girl. “It’s my birthday,” I mock in a high-pitched voice.
What did she expect me to do, dance in celebration of the day she first drew breath? She really needs to grow up.
Still, it must be nice to know the day you were born. I only know the season.
This will be my twentieth winter.
I clear away the coins, opening a drawer to collect the ones that fell inside. My hand grazes a wooden carving, and I pull it out, turning it around in my hand.
It’s a carving of an old farmer and his young daughter, and I wish I hadn’t set sights on this wretched thing. For one, it doesn’t even look like them. But as time wears on, I find that I’m forgetting their faces, and maybe one day I will forget what they looked like entirely.
They always celebrated my birthday, no matter how much misery I brought into their lives.
Maybe I took it too far tonight. The look of horror on her face will forever haunt me.
Just maybe I can do something to make it right again.
I just don’t know where to begin.