Chapter 23 Tegwyn #2
He was what was known as a changeling: a faerie child that steals the place of a human infant in their cradle. Except in these circumstances, the human mother willingly accepted the trade.
His mother made a bargain with the Fae, and if she didn’t uphold her end and raise Tegwyn until his twenty-first year, then there would be dire consequences to pay.
What if the merchant returned with her son and rescinded the contract? Would his mother swap him back without a second thought?
Would the merchant return him to the land of faerie? Would he even find a place in that elusive realm again?
Tegwyn had been raised amongst humans his whole life. He would be a pariah in the faerielands as much as he was in the human world.
Tegwyn would never belong anywhere...
Barely rustled behind him as footsteps approached, and then a gasp pierced the sweet summer air. “Tegwyn!”
Soft hands lifted him from the ground, and then her face swam into view. Beautiful red curls framed a heart-shaped face. His mother really was the epitome of grace.
By all human accounts of the Fae, they were often described as beautiful or terribly dreadful. No mere human could ever compare to either extreme.
But whoever spewed those silly rumours had obviously never met his mother. There was simply no one more beautiful…
A worried crease formed between her soulful brown eyes, and the way she looked at him simply broke his heart. He didn’t deserve her love.
“Oh, Tegwyn. What happened to you?”
His lip trembled, and then he looked the other way, squeezing his eyes. “I’m s-sorry, Mother…”
She cradled him in her arms, shushing him. “It’s all right, sweetheart. We won’t let them get away with this.”
Tegwyn hiccoughed. “They…killed Henry…”
His mother paused. “Henry? Oh, Henry… Oh… Tegwyn, my child, I’m so sorry. We will get you a new pet, I promise.”
He shook his head. “But… I want Henry…”
Finally, he burst into tears, burying his face into his mother’s cotton shawl.
She stroked his head, rubbing her fingers gently across his tender bumps, and he breathed in her scent. She smelled of lavender…
“Come. Let’s get you cleaned up.”
She lifted him in her arms, carrying him back to the farmhouse, and once there, she seated him on a stool, tending to his cuts with warm water and salt.
She needn’t bother, though. Tegwyn was Fae—the wounds would heal well enough on their own, but she still tended to them regardless with the utmost care.
When she pressed a wet cloth to his forehead, he hissed in pain, stamping his feet on the stone floor of the kitchen. “It hurts!”
But then she pecked his head, ruffling his hair. “There, all better.”
Tegwyn cast his eyes to the ground. “Please don’t tell Grandpa I was fighting again.”
Mother sighed, gripping his chin. “He will find out eventually.”
He closed his eyes. “But…he’ll be ashamed of me…”
“Listen to me. Your grandpa loves you very much, Tegwyn, but fighting is never the answer.”
He blew a sigh, wafting her hair from her face. “I know.”
She winced when she smelled his breath. “Ergh, what have you been eating?”
The memory returned in full colour, and then he could see poor Henry beneath Duke’s boot again.
“They…made me eat Henry!”
His mother’s jaw clenched, and then she had that look on her face. The one she got whenever she went on a rampage through the village.
She was always arguing with Duke’s mother, and the two were constantly at odds.
“He did what now?” she whispered, her voice dark and almost bordering on dangerous.
Tegwyn scooted back on his stool, swallowing hard. Should he bother telling her about the next thing on his mind?
“Also…I said a bad word…”
Her eyes narrowed. “Which one?”
He gazed at his boots again. “The… the one you call another boy if his parents aren’t married…”
Tegwyn tittered, hoping it would lighten the sombre mood, but his mother was furious.
She tossed the cloth into the bowl, placing her hands on her hips. “Tegwyn, you know you’re not supposed to say words like that.”
He grinned. “But it can also be used to describe a really awful person, like Duke! I read it in a book once...”
Tegwyn’s voice trailed off when she gave him the look. “That’s no excuse.”
He dropped his head, and more tears slipped from his eyes. “I’m sorry.”
She sighed, pulling the stool close. She wrapped her hands around his cheeks, wiping away his tears with her thumbs. “I forgive you. Just don’t resort to name-calling again. All right?”
“All right.”
Mother smiled, and there was no denying the affection she had for him now.
After all, she did promise the merchant that she would love and raise Tegwyn like her very own son, and Tegwyn could finally see that it wasn’t just magic that bound her to the contract.
She truly meant it when she said, “I love you, Tegwyn.”
“I love you, too, Mother.”
And he did, too.
Tegwyn couldn’t even remember his real parents or his family; he had never even met another faerie. He did love her with all his heart, and he didn’t care what anyone said.
She would always be his mother…
“Tegwyn?”
“Yes?”
“Wake up.”
“What?”
“Wake up!”
His mother shook him roughly, and then the small farmhouse kitchen shattered to pieces.