Chapter 14 Ivy
Ivy
I jerk my head towards the bar, feeling the hair pricking at the back of my neck when I catch sight of Tegwyn.
Pure, unadulterated fear courses through my veins, yet I don’t run. I gawk at the horned faerie, the one whose eyes glow like the dying embers of a hearth. If this is the true wrath of the Fae, then I don’t want to see it.
I sober up immediately, rising from my chair in a bid for escape, but Lord Valent wraps his long, slender fingers around my elbow. “No. Stay put, sweet Ivy. I will deal with this fiend.”
Fiend? Is that what Tegwyn has become now? I just don’t know anymore.
Who is friend and who is foe?
My heart races, yet all I can do is put my faith into the male beside me. He’s the only one displaying any calm right now.
Yet a part of me knows that Tegwyn wouldn’t hurt me. We’re friends… right?
“Is there a problem, Rogue?” Lord Valent asks, looking at Tegwyn.
I yelp when Tegwyn suddenly appears before the high Fae lord, gripping him by the buttons of his brocaded doublet.
I’ll never get used to the way these creatures move. One place one moment, and another the next.
I cast my eyes around the bar, finally seeing them for the first time.
How they all snarl. They deceived me, every single one.
When I drank the honeyed wine, I could have sworn these faeries were my friends. I hardly seemed to notice the way they licked their lips, or the way they sneered at my shame. I can’t believe I put my trust in them.
Tegwyn brandishes an iron cross, holding it up to Lord Valent’s throat, and wait…that’s my cross.
What is he doing with it?
Several Fae gasp when they see what he’s holding, and they no longer look so pleased with themselves. Tegwyn came to this tavern armed. They better not piss him off.
The cross hovers inches from Lord Valent’s throat, and there’s no missing the spark dancing inside his curious eyes as he studies the iron.
Tegwyn, on the other hand, doesn’t fare so well. Sweat drips from his face, and it’s obvious the iron is having a far more adverse effect on him than Lord Valent. Still, he never loses his composure.
Mama always told me how iron repelled the Fae, but I never really believed it was true until now. To see it in action…it’s pretty alarming.
His breathing becomes laboured, and for the first time tonight, I truly see him.
Tegwyn is sick, and he needs my help.
“Stay away from her,” he growls, never breaking his hold on my father’s iron cross.
Lord Valent chuckles. “Do you really think that scant bit of iron can harm me?”
Tegwyn bares his teeth, gripping the cross tighter, and even with gloves, the iron is hurting him. “Why? You’re Fae, aren’t you?”
The high lord’s smug smile becomes almost serpentine. “Yes... But not in the way you are, I’m afraid, Rogue.”
Tegwyn growls, “You think you’re so much better than the rest of us just because you live in a fancy castle by the Pool. The thing is, I’ve lived amongst humans my whole life. So, I think I can speak for myself when I say that I can handle a bit of scant iron…”
Lord Valent peers at the cross again, and a silent gasp escapes me once a bead of sweat drips down his alabaster face. He is afraid.
“Ivy, head to the door,” Tegwyn orders, never taking his glowing eyes off the high Fae lord.
What kind of high Fae lord? I couldn’t say. As far as I’m aware, he’s Unseelie. But one thing I do know for certain: Lord Valent is not a friend. I really was a fool to trust him.
Finally, I rise, joining Tegwyn on the other side of the table, and his wrath is almost palpable. I can taste it on my tongue.
He leans closer to me. “Go. I will be right behind you.”
I glance towards the door, hoping no one will try to stop me. All the other faeries keep their distance. The moth-winged female from earlier regards me as if I’m pond scum. What did I ever do to evoke her wrath?
The ogre behind the bar flaunts a bronze mace, and I make my decision, backing away to the door.
Tegwyn lets go of Lord Valent’s collar, shielding me from view as he backs me to the door, and warmth trickles through me when I realise he is protecting me.
The door materialises, and Tegwyn nods towards it. “Through the door. Quickly.”
My heart thumps, and I grip his hand, squeezing his fingers tightly. “Don’t leave me, all right?”
I feel the eyes of the beautiful moth-winged female from the other end of the tavern, and I’m sure she can hear everything we’re saying with her Fae ears.
And I bet she hates me even more for it.
Tegwyn’s eyes flick my way. Before, his pupils were black slices cutting through the gold of his burning eyes, but now, they’re soft and rounded.
“I promise,” he replies, his voice sincere. “Now go.”
With a deep breath, I push through the door, eager to put the tavern behind me.
But then Lord Valent’s smooth, lilting tone carries across the room, making me freeze mid-step. “So long, Ivy sweet. Maybe one day, when this Rogue is finally bored with you, you can make your way back to me.”
Wind brushes at the back of my neck, and when I turn around, a scream bursts from my throat.
Tegwyn presses the iron cross against Lord Valent’s cheek, his eyes ablaze, and I swear I’m looking at the devil.
He’s absolutely insane, vanishing behind a cloud of smoke as he burns the Lord’s cheek, and soon all I can see are those yellow eyes.
“Try seducing beautiful women now with a face like charred meat, you fucking bastard!”
Lord Valent roars in pain, and I watch helplessly, wishing I could do something to stop this madness, but I’m frozen.
Forever the helpless damsel.
The smell. It’s indescribable… Iron truly is lethal to the Fae.
Finally, I muster some strength, shouting from the top of my lungs, “Tegwyn, stop!”
To my relief, the faerie yields at the sound of my voice, and that’s all the time the high lord needs. He wraps his cold fingers around Tegwyn’s throat, throwing him down onto the table to choke the very essence from his lungs, and Tegwyn succumbs—quickly.
One squeeze from those cruel fingers, and he will leave this world forever.
The rest of the Fae cheer Lord Valent on, and several even exchange gold. They truly are awful. How can they take delight in this?
That’s when a mace swings across the table, almost lopping the head clean off Tegwyn, and I jump, gazing up at the hulking barkeep.
Lord Valent glares at him, irritated, but the barkeep merely sneers, indicating his head at his weapon. “If ye don’t clear off right now, Your Lordship, then the next swing will aim for yer head!”
Lord Valent bares his teeth, eyes burning a deep, hellish red. “Do you have any idea who I am?”
The ogre shrugs, “Some posh Unseelie twat who’s far from his castle? That much I can gather. Don’t fuck around with us Rogues. We won’t take ye shit here.”
Lord Valent weighs up his options, glancing around the bar. The other patrons have found their courage now that their barkeep has taken his stand, and His Lordship is greatly outnumbered.
Finally, he peers down at Tegwyn, letting go of his throat. Then he straightens, wiping at an imaginary piece of lint on his doublet as he heads for the door. “Well, I know when I’m not wanted.”
I freeze when he brushes past me, yet he doesn’t spare me a second glance. Instead, he summons the door, vanishing into the night.
Tegwyn remains on the table, breathing heavily as his lungs grasp for air, and I don’t think—I rush to his side, gripping his cheeks. “Tegwyn, are you all right?”
Dread slithers down my spine when I spy the state he’s in. His cheeks are gaunt, and his skin is wan and glossy with sweat.
Yet at the sound of my voice, he stirs, opening his eyes. I gaze into a pair of gleaming slits, and when he grins that vulpine smile, exposing his fangs, I almost weep.
“Still breathing, I’m afraid, princess.”
Something between a laugh and a cry escapes me, and I never thought I’d see the day I would be relieved to hear his voice. At least someone in this tavern cares whether he lives or not. Faeries can be so cruel, even to their own kind.
Tegwyn sits up straight, clutching at his throat, but before I can inspect his injury, a cough interrupts us. We look up at the same time to find the barkeep hovering above us. “Hate to break up this touchin’ moment, but it’s time ye buggered off!”
Tegwyn gives a half-hearted laugh, sliding off the table. He sways, unbalanced, and fear lances through my chest.
“Save your breath, Stan. We were just leaving.”
He hobbles towards the door, and I shuffle behind him, keeping close.
Stan stomps after us, and the ground shudders beneath his sheer weight. “And don’t even think about coming back. Ye're barred, ye hear me? I never wanna see yer face in me tavern again!”
Tegwyn opens the door, and he doesn’t even bother looking back. “I’ll be crying myself to sleep.”
Stan mumbles more expletives, glad to see the back of us, I bet, and now we finally leave his accursed tavern.
The moment we’re outside, I round on Tegwyn, placing my hands on my hips. “What on earth was that outburst all about?”
He doesn’t look at me again, keeping his eyes ahead as he ambles towards the trees. But he hardly makes it two steps before he trips, face-planting the ground. “Fuck! That floor comes up fast.”
I kneel beside him, offering him my hand. The faerie regards it strangely, peering up at me with raised brows. “What is that?”
I sigh. “My hand. I’m helping you to your feet. You know, being kind…unless kindness is a foreign concept for you?”
He sniggers, gripping my hand, and my heart hammers when his claws prick my palm. “Ha, clever.”
I help him to his feet, but he stubbornly pushes me away, insisting on walking himself. “I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not. What happened in there? What did he do to you?”
Tegwyn leans against the trunk of one of the giant redwoods, the mighty behemoth dwarfing him.
He eyes me curiously, a smirk growing on his impish face. “Why? Were you worried about me?”
I stammer, “N-no. I just—”