Chapter 25 Ivy
Ivy
I shiver before the hearth, bundled up in several furs.
Winters in the north are truly something else. Hoarfrost coats every rock and tree; lakes and rivers are laden with ice; and animals have disappeared for hibernation.
Even the sky has turned into a perpetual cloud of grey.
It took Tegwyn several weeks to recover, and I stayed with him the entire time.
He’d slept a lot, and I’d taken those rare moments to appreciate his exquisite features; I would run the pad of my finger around his face ever so slightly, then sweep along the bridge of his nose, then across his sculpted cheekbones, the ones limned with flecks of gold.
Tegwyn is a beautiful work of art, and I want to paint him someday.
Though coarse, his skin is enticing to touch, and when I traced his Cupid bow lips, I wondered, not for the first time, what they would be like to kiss…
He hadn’t been all that surprised when I confessed my identity, and he was more than happy to indulge me and tell me everything he knew about the old kingdoms.
It turns out that the sigil on my necklace belonged to the Seaworth Dynasty, and that I’m the granddaughter of the late Lord Renfred Seaworth.
There were the Roseblood and the Cadstone kingdoms, too, which are now extinct—their sigils had been a blood-stained white rose and a snow-capped mountain range, respectively.
Godwyn’s had been a great, fiery comet on a collision course with the planet's atmosphere. I am part Seaworth on my mother’s side, and part Godwyn on my father’s.
According to Tegwyn, King Mervyn Godwyn had been a cruel, merciless man. He cared far more for his own wealth and power than he did for his people. He imposed heavy taxes, took away land and food from the most vulnerable communities, and killed anyone who dared to oppose him.
The Fae were no exception.
He made life harder for Rogues, especially, permitting hunting laws up and down the country, and I think about the punters I met in that stone tavern. How miserable and wretched they had all been.
They vilified me because I was human, but after what I’ve learned, I’m not at all surprised.
If they had known that I was the missing princess, would they have killed me? Or worse, imprisoned and tortured me?
King Mervyn had been my father, and I felt sick to my stomach to learn that I was related to such a man. I am nothing like him, but that makes no difference in the eyes of the Fae.
They won’t see it any other way, and I thank my lucky stars that Tegwyn saved me in time.
Even though he’s Fae himself, he cares about me deeply, and I must thank him once again for his kindness upon his return. I have no interest in the throne whatsoever; I just want my mother and father back, which is why I vow to fight the present king.
King Corvis is no better than my birth father.
In my eyes, he’s just as cruel. He chased me away from my home.
He took my parents, and for that injustice, he will pay.
After all, isn’t that why he wants me? He sent his men to the cottage to retrieve me.
I am a threat to his throne, and thus, it’s in his best interests to have me killed.
But it’s fine. I don’t mind a good fight. I will be ready for him.
With a heavy sigh, I secure the furs around my shoulders, smiling down at the necklace in my hand.
The diamonds glisten before the firelight, and I stare at the bejewelled sea serpent of the Seaworth sigil yet again, mesmerised.
This necklace had once belonged to my birth mother, Rowenda Seaworth—the daughter of Lord Renfred Seaworth.
I gaze down at her photograph, the one I found inside the music box, trying to find some similarities. I do have her eyebrows, I guess.
She may have been my mother at one time, but my real mother will always be the one I knew.
The one who raised me at Charstown. The one I lost.
I just don’t understand where she and Papa fit into the story. How did I manage to escape the castle and the war between Mervyn and Corvis in the first place?
I was just a baby. None of it adds up.
Footsteps echo up the tunnel, and soon I’m greeted by the sight of Tegwyn panting and sweating.
He has only just started venturing outside again, but judging by his dire state, it’s obvious he isn’t quite ready.
The faerie is out of shape. His face shines like wax as he doubles over, clutching a stitch in his side. “Fuuuck. That last lag was a bitch…”
He leans against the wall, breaths soughing from his lips.
I’m on my feet in seconds, catching him before he falls. “Tegwyn! You’re supposed to be taking it easy.”
He staggers towards the table, collapsing into a chair. Then he presses his face to the splintered wood, trying to find his breath.
“Had…had to clear up all the snow outside. Otherwise, we’d be trapped.”
I roll my eyes, taking the other seat. “Then let me do it. You just focus on getting better.”
He shakes his head. “No. I need to do it. I… must feel useful...”
I smile, taking his gloved hand. “Tegwyn, you are useful. More than useful. You saved my life. I’ll never forget that.”
He chuckles, “Which time?”
I think for a moment, grinning wider. “All the times.”
“You do know that you are forever in my debt now, right? As Fae custom dictates.”
I blink at him, stupefied. “Oh.”
He lifts his gold-green face from the table, smirking like a wicked fox. “Ha, got ya. You are not indebted to me, Ivy. Fae don’t give so freely, yet for you, I’ll make an exception.”
“Well, that’s a relief.”
His snigger lights up the room, and then he leans his face in his hand, closing his eyes.
He goes to rub along the edges of his bandaged horn, but I bat his hand away, and he glares at me pointedly.
I wag my finger at him. “No touching.”
The blood has finally clotted, so the wound is healing beautifully. He just needs to keep his grubby mitts off.
Tegwyn exhales deeply. “Yes, Mother…”
I purse my lips, ignoring the jibe.
“It’s not the same… only having half a horn…” he says wistfully.
A sharp lance of pain pierces my heart when I hear his sad declaration, and I take his hand again, meeting his yellow eyes. “Even with half a horn, you still have much to offer. Don’t weigh all your self-worth on the length of your horns, Tegwyn.”
He scoffs. “Is that supposed to be an innuendo of some kind?”
It takes me a moment to hear what I just said. When I cotton on, I let go of his hand, glancing the other way.
My cheeks flush bright red. “No! I was just…”
He guffaws, and I look at him furiously. “Well, that’s the last time I try to make you feel better.”
The chair scrapes behind me as I take my leave, but he seizes my wrist, dragging me back.
“No. Don’t go. You did make me feel better. Much better, actually. So… feel free to discuss the length of my horns any time…”
He almost purrs the last, and my cheeks burn hotter as the sound vibrates through my spine, settling deep in my core.
I blow out a breath to cool myself down. “L-let go…”
The faerie continues to tease me. “Did you know that in some ancient Fae lore, horn length is tantamount with virility and power?”
Sweat beads on my temple, and the air in the room grows thick with tension. It’s hard to breathe. I must leave. Quickly. It’s smothering in this cave.
I wet my lips, and his eyes track the movement of my tongue. His pupils dilate, and it looks like the predator has found its prey.
“Tegwyn, let me go or… or I’ll…”
He makes that seductive purring sound again, and the heat pools between my legs. “Or you will what?” he whispers, voice dark and bordering on dangerous.
I don’t respond. Instead, I shove him away, spinning towards the exit.
But before I reach the arch of the cave, he’s upon me, pinning me against the cold, hard ground. His amber eyes dance in the firelight, fangs bared with a wicked smile as one of his hands cradles my head, the other pinning my arms in place.
Then he lowers his face until we’re inches from a kiss. “Or you will what?” he breathes against my lips, and I don’t speak, don’t think.
He’s so close; I can see the golden flecks of his eyes, and they gleam with pure magic.
So much raw power in that single gaze alone.
My breasts pebble beneath the silk of my bodice when he rubs his pine scent along my cheek, and then his gaze drifts towards my heaving chest.
A vulpine smirk curves his lips. He knows exactly what he’s doing to me. His eyes fall back on mine again, and I stare at a smaller version of myself inside the black of his pupils.
“Well, I’m waiting,” he taunts.
I close my eyes, heart thumping beneath my chest, and it looks as if he’s left me tongue-tied. I don’t want my voice to betray me. Only heaven knows what sounds will come out of my traitorous mouth.
He’s far too tempting.
Tegwyn chuckles. “Just as I thought. You can never win a fight against me, princess...”
My eyelids snap open. “Don’t call me princess!”
He sniggers softly, studying my face. His gaze melts, and then his eyes turn into pools of liquid gold, drowning me in endless eternity, and now I’ve forgotten my own name.
Why does he have to be so frightfully beautiful? It’s not fair.
We both startle once a humming blue light hovers into the cave, and I glance at Tegwyn curiously.
He mutters a curse, jumping to his feet, and I join his side, smoothing down my skirt.
“What is it?” I ask.
“Mail,” he growls, glancing at the blue light irritably.
My brow furrows. “You get mail?”
He tosses me a pointed look, righting up the chair that he knocked over before tackling me to the ground. I didn’t mean to offend.
The glowing orb lands on the table, and when I blink, I spy the silhouette of a minute woman imprinted on the back of my eyelids.
It's a faerie. The smallest I’ve seen. She has large, beady eyes like a dormouse, pointed ears, and a pair of papery wings that glisten like morning dew. Her skin is a gleaming blue, and she wears no clothes or garments that I can see.