Chapter 15 Tegwyn
Tegwyn
I’m halfway down the mountain by the time I stop, digging my claws into the wall to slow my momentum.
My heart slams against my ribs, as I can’t rid the smell of her sweet honeysuckle from my skin, and she’s already so deep in my veins.
The memory of her drunken face swims up before me, and I scrape my claws down the cave wall, leaving prominent grooves inside the ancient stone.
She tried to kiss me, and I ran.
I’ve never rejected a female’s advances—human or Fae—what the hell is wrong with me? Have I lost my stride?
There’s just something about her that makes me so nervous, and I become tongue-tied whenever I’m in her presence.
My lungs heave like a pair of bellows as I scratch my claws down my face this time, hoping the pain will knock some sense back into me. This was never supposed to happen; I was never supposed to become invested.
Ivy was just a means to an end. I wanted her pretty necklace so I could pawn it off to the highest bidder and leave this godforsaken country. I can’t develop feelings for her.
My heart still bangs against my chest, and it hasn’t stopped pounding since she leaned in for that kiss.
I’m sure this will pass. At most, it’s my prick that’s developing feelings for her.
Yet, I saved her life from that leech back at the tavern, and the memory of his smug face still sets my blood ablaze. I’ll char the face of any bastard who lays their hands on her porcelain skin. Ivy is my ward, and I will continue to do everything in my power to protect her.
Now, I make a silent vow to never take things further—no matter how tempting it may be to run back up the tunnel and plant my own kiss between her legs.
We made a contract the day she handed over her necklace, and I won’t break its terms. I may be wicked, but I won’t take further advantage of that na?ve girl.
I guess there’s nothing more to do than to stew in my own self-loathing. It’s going to be a long, lonely night.
With my right hand…and Rosemary’s judgmental tone.
Pine needles crunch underfoot—needles coated with a thick layer of hoarfrost—as winter fast approaches.
The forest is eerily quiet this morning, heavy boughs dusted with a smattering of snow as I trek my usual hunting grounds, embracing the newfound chill.
The chill helps clear the mind and the irksome headache that pulses between my eyes.
I wish I hadn’t got so inebriated last night.
The cold grounds me, reminding me that I have endless responsibilities.
Winter is coming, and it’s time to stock up on meat.
It’s funny how accustomed I have grown to the seasons.
After all, there is no changing of the seasons back at the faerielands.
At the Seelie Court, it is eternal summer, and the Unseelie experiences a permanent winter.
There is no spring or autumn, because such change only occurs in the human realm.
The Fae are practically frozen in time.
My breath plumes like a cloud as I search the ground for one of my traps.
I’ve trained my stomach to go without food for weeks. One of the many advantages of being Fae, but now that I have Ivy, I’m hunting for two.
I just hope she likes rabbit.
My pantry is running short. Ivy has already depleted two bags of oats, and it looks like I’m going to have to teach her a thing or two about rationing.
I just don’t know how I’ll face her again after last night. A ghost of her warm breath still lingers, and I reach up, brushing my finger over my lips. If only I hadn’t been such a coward, I could have…
A shuffling sound alerts my attention to a nearby thicket. That’s where I laid one of my traps.
Creeping closer, I pry the thorny branches apart. A rabbit hangs from a wire snare, its soft toes grazing the snow-covered ground, and a lump sticks in my throat.
It’s always the same; I always get choked up whenever I take one of their lives.
Yet I need to eat. Maghelena will forgive me.
Its body is still warm when I cut it loose from the snare, and then I lift it by the scruff, gazing into its jewel-black eye. I hope it died quickly. I set the trap in a way that made death quick and painless.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, tying the deceased cottontail to my belt.
I still have another twenty snares to go.
I don’t return until dusk.
In the end, I only found five rabbits, but their meat should suffice for several weeks if I apply salt.
I’m greeted by a sickly-sweet stench as I march up the tunnel, covering my nose. When I stop at the kitchen, I find her standing over the hearth, waving at a cloud of smoke with an old rag. Something burns in the pot, and whatever it is, it needs to be condemned into the nearest pit.
My heart thuds as a fleeting memory of our almost kiss returns, but I push it away, addressing her clearly, “What are you doing?”
She gasps, yet doesn’t meet my eyes. Her cheeks redden, and it looks like she’s remembering last night, too.
Will either of us forget?
“I…I’m making porridge.”
I hike a brow, stepping closer to inspect the contents of the pot. She moves aside quickly, crossing her arms as she looks the other way.
Normally, she makes delicious porridge, yet today the oats are stuck to the pot. Maybe she was distracted?
I roll my eyes. “You need to add water.”
“Oh, right, of course. I knew I was missing something.” She laughs nervously.
I hiss through gritted teeth, but rather than reprimanding her, I move to one side so she can salvage her meal.
In the end, she gives up, tossing the pot in the basin with a heavy sigh. “It’s hopeless.”
The room falls quiet now that the sizzling of burning porridge has gone. It appears she is regretting last night after all, and I try to think of something to say, anything to fill the void.
I pluck one of the rabbits from my belt, flinging it across the table. She has not once offered to join me on a hunt. She has never so much as asked to skin a rabbit.
And I think I know why… She doesn’t eat meat.
The only thing she seems to eat is porridge, and the occasional nuts and berries when she’s foraging in the woods.
Well, that’s just not going to suffice.
“Want to learn how to skin a rabbit?” I smile, exposing my fangs, but she only has eyes for the dead lapin—the one spilling its blood across the table.
Now she looks as green as I do. I bet she has never skinned or gutted anything in her life.
“No, it’s fine. I’ll go.” She makes a start for the exit.
“But I insist, Ivy. The days are growing colder… and shorter.”
She shakes her head, trying to leave again. “I said, I’m fine.”
I reach out, gripping her by the wrist, and she freezes like a cornered animal. I thank the goddess that I had the foresight to wear gloves, because I don’t think I could have coped with the sensation of her skin against mine.
The way hers glows a soft, buttery gold in the candlelight is enough to make my imagination run wild.
“I really think it’s best you watch.”
She closes her eyes, breathing steadily through her nose. “N-no.”
My claws prick her ever so slightly, just enough to get the message across. “You can’t expect to survive the winter on nuts and berries…”
Ivy remains mulishly steadfast.
She doesn’t have to give up on her love of animals if she decides to hunt with me. It's a matter of survival out here.
Her breath whooshes from her lips, “I can’t. If I do, then… I’ll be giving up.”
I narrow my eyes. “Giving up on what?”
“On myself. I don’t want to let go of my old self. Of the girl I used to be… Carefree and innocent. So, for that reason, I choose not to partake.”
She makes a move for the exit, but I’m in front of her before she can so much as blink.
Ivy yelps at my sudden appearance, yet I back her up towards the table, caging her in with my arms so she can’t escape.
My claws splinter the wood.
“Sit down and learn how to skin a rabbit like a good little huntress.” It’s an order, not a request.
I’m still seething at her ridiculous confession. Giving up on herself? What good is there holding on to her past if she’s dead?
Strange female…
Ivy looks me straight in the eye, and my heart flutters like the wings of a moth when I recall how we almost kissed.
Any affection she may have harboured for me is long gone now, though.
I hate to ruin her perfect illusion of me, but I am no fairytale prince.
I’m an evil faerie. One who hunts and kills bunnies.
“Move out of my way.”
I lean closer until we’re inches from another kiss. “No. You’ve seen the rations. We’re running short. So, you’re going to learn how to hunt and skin a rabbit. Do I make myself clear?”
She holds up a haughty chin. “That wasn’t a part of our bargain.”
My jaw ticks. She’s got me there.
Yet, it doesn’t stop me from digging my claws in that little bit further, creating grooves in the old wood.
I hate to be proven wrong, but she’s right. I’ve already taken so much; I would be overstepping a line if I expected anything more from her.
Plus, I would be breaching the terms of our contract. It’s bound in magic.
But fuck magic. I’m not about to let her starve herself.
It's unlikely, but anything could happen to me out here. I may have a long life ahead of me, but I can still die. Ivy would be on her own if I perished, completely and utterly helpless, and that thought doesn’t bode well with me.
She cocks her head, regarding me curiously. “Why do you care so much if I starve?”
My mind empties of all rational thought. Then my mouth moves, trying to form words, but nothing comes.
My silence seems to say it all, and she closes her eyes, giving me a silent nod. “All right. I will join you.”
Thank goodness. I withdraw my claws from the table.
I step aside, giving her back her personal space, and she finally makes her way to her room.
I address her back. “Meet me outside at first light. We have a long day tomorrow.”
She stops, peering briefly over her shoulder. Then she nods quietly and vanishes up the tunnel.
With a huff, I fall into a chair, massaging my temples.
Teaching her is going to be hard work.