Chapter 27 Tegwyn
Tegwyn
“I’m so sorry…”
I tear my eyes away from the flickering fireplace, gazing at the occupant of the mammoth-sized chair opposite me.
Bannog. Such a far cry from his surly, foul-mouthed cousin, Stannog. He truly is more than meets the eye.
Enviable culinary skills, elegant dress sense, and a cultivated manner—it’s as if the ogre is telling the world that he’s more than a monster. That he isn’t as brutish as his kind are often believed to be, and it resonates with something deep inside me.
I can relate. The world thinks that I’m some kind of monster, too—we have that in common. Except Bannog has far more manners, and that’s where our similarities end.
A heavy breath escapes me. I hadn’t realised how much air I’d been holding in. I massage my temples, hoping it might knock the sense back into me. I even unsheathe my claws to help with blood flow—anything to channel my thoughts in another direction. How am I going to tell her?
“Were these people dear to you?”
I regard the dressmaker on his wingback chair, the one with the rolled-up arms and the upholstered seat of red velvet, and I don’t even know where to begin.
“No,” I reply, “but they were to a friend of mine.”
The ogre nods his head knowingly, and his powdered wig moves with the action. “Ah, of course. The human girl you brought to the tavern. Stannog may have mentioned her.”
He gives a clandestine sip of his porcelain cup, and I rise to my feet, slamming my hands down onto the table.
A growl vibrates in my chest. “What did he tell you?”
Bannog sighs, moving his fancy tea set away from me. “Not much, really. Only that he was so appalled that you would dare bring a “filthy dung girl” to his oh, so clean tavern. His words.”
My left eye twitches, and then my claws slip from my gloves, creating gouges on his polished table.
“Careful. That is mahogany.”
I shake my head, then retake my seat, trying to calm my erratic heart. It won’t stop pounding, and I rack my brains for every manner of Fae that Stannog could have talked to about Ivy, kicking myself for my carelessness.
I never should have taken her to his shitty tavern. There’s a price on her head. An expensive price, and I am such an idiot for trusting him.
Now all kinds of ilk will want to get their hands on Ivy.
“Don’t fret. Your secret is safe with me. I haven’t told a single soul, and I don’t plan to.” Bannog winks, grabbing the pot again as he goes to fill another cup of tea. “Tea?” he asks when he notices my staring.
I roll my eyes. “Fine. So long as you tell me what else you know. What has Stannog told you, exactly, about that night in question?”
The ogre’s eyes flash as he twirls his teaspoon clockwise. “Ooh, do I smell a bargain?”
I tighten my lips, making a mental note to be more careful with my choice of words in the future.
I just made an unintentional bargain over a sip of fucking chamomile tea of all things. I'm such a dullard.
What more could he want from me? I’ve already given him my body weight in gold for one of his glamours.
That’s when my charming host chuckles, waving his hand in dismissal. “It’s okay. I don’t require much. Only that you promise not to lose your temper.”
I give him a withering look as he finally hands me my cup of tea. He really knows how to get under one’s skin, doesn’t he? Yet it’s a reasonable enough request, so I acquiesce. “All right. What else did he tell you?”
The ogre lounges in his wingback chair, choosing his next words wisely. “Well, according to Stannog’s apt descriptions, she’s the exact image of the missing princess.”
Another growl escapes me, and Bannog lifts his teapot away. “What did I tell you? No losing your temper.”
Breathing steadily through my nose, I curb my temper long enough to take another leisurely sip of tea. It tastes like ash in my mouth.
When I’m finished, I place the cup onto the table with its saucer, speaking through clenched teeth. “So…what else did he have to say about her?”
There were plenty of eyewitnesses in that tavern that night. If not Stannog, then someone else could have easily reported her to the royal guard.
If I ever find them, I’ll kill them.
Bannog exhales, placing his cup onto the table next to mine. “Look, Tegwyn… May I call you Tegwyn?”
I snort, “It beats dung...”
Bannog chuckles. “I know we’re strangers, and although you have what could be described as a strained relationship with my cousin, he does care about you. In his roguish, offbeat way. I believe you’ve known him since you were a boy, right?”
“Yeah, that’s right.”
I first met Stannog after I left the farm. I’d needed somewhere to stay, and he had offered me a place in his basement.
For a price, of course.
In order to earn my keep, I had to work behind his bar every night and serve his dirty punters. The entire time, he had told me that I reeked of dung and that I needed a bath.
I was raised by humans, so it went without saying, but I suppose Bannog’s right—Stannog is like the uncle I never asked for.
“He had me pumping taps, but he wouldn’t let me have a single drop of ale until I came of age. I had to ‘earn it’ first.”
Bannog smiles. “See, he does care about you. I know he’s foul, and his language…” The ogre tsks. “I know he’s my cousin, but we’re more like brothers at times. So, any friend of Stan’s is a friend of mine. It’s clear you care for this girl, so you have my word.”
I stammer at his comment. “Who said anything about caring? She’s just a friend.”
Bannog rolls his eyes. “If you say so. Look, I get it, you’re young, so you have yet to recognise love when it’s sitting right in front of you, but nothing good ever came from denying your feelings.”
Now he’s just messing with me, and it’s time I cut this meeting short. I got what I came for, and I’ve had quite enough tea, thank you.
“It’s time I headed home,” I announce, getting to my feet. “Thank you for the tea.”
Bannog stifles a snort as I aim for the door, and I glare at him suspiciously. “What’s so funny?”
He shakes his head. “You just wait. Those feelings will come crashing out of nowhere one day, and you won’t even suspect a thing.”
Snapping my teeth, I adjust my hood over my shattered horn, the one I sacrificed so Ivy could live another day. I took a killing blow for her, but that doesn’t prove anything. I’m wicked. Nothing more, nothing less.
The sound of cheering pours in from the window, and I glance at Bannog. He shrugs. “Celebrations for the Winter Solstice. They’re a little rowdier than previous years.”
How could I forget? Not that I ever cared for the holiday season. Just another insignificant day of the year.
Bannog leans closer. “I heard they’re erecting a statue in honour of His Majesty’s birthday.”
That’s right. He was born on the winter solstice. Not that I give a shit.
Bannog gazes down at his tea, a solemn expression on his face. “They’re cheering extra loudly because they believe that he killed your friend, finishing off King Godwyn’s bloodline for good.”
I grit my teeth, slamming my claws down onto the table yet again. Luckily, Bannog rescues his teapot in time.
“If it’s blood they want, then I’ll give them plenty…”
The ogre shudders. “So violent, but there’s no need. So long as you keep her safe, then we have nothing to worry about.”
I have the sudden urge to return to the mountain, just so I can gaze into those wonderful starburst eyes again and confirm she’s safe. But I push those feelings aside, gazing at Bannog to continue.
“There are those amongst us who haven’t forgotten that she’s also part Seaworth. Lord Renfred Seaworth was kind to the Fae.”
I sigh. “Yeah, well, it’s too bad he’s dead.”
The ogre raises a brow. “Is he?”
I narrow my eyes. “What are you getting at?”
Bannog takes another sip of tea. “If the rumours are true, then Seaworth is very much alive. He could take care of her.”
My heart sinks at the idea of handing Ivy over to another, but I check my emotions, swallowing a lump.
“She is not safe here anymore. It would be for the best, Tegwyn.”
He's right, but I can’t bear the thought of letting her go. I suppose I could always return to my old plan. I may have a glamour in the works courtesy of Bannog now, yet would I still be willing to leave the kingdom? Find a place where I could spend the rest of my miserable life alone?
I’m not sure if I even still want that. When I think of my castle ruin now, all I see is Ivy. She has taken the place of my dreams…
“Well, I suppose I will be in touch,” I finally announce, heading for the door. It’s time to return home. The idea of seeing Ivy all bundled up before the hearth has me heating up with excitement.
He smiles. “It has been my pleasure, and please, do send that delightful wisp again.”
Delightful? I think he means insufferable.
“I’ll bear it in mind.”
I’m already at the door when he decides to speak again, “The choice is yours, Tegwyn, but do heed my advice. She is not safe.”
I stop, bowing my head. Soon, I am going to have to make a difficult choice. But for now, I will indulge in Ivy’s company for just a little longer. That human is mine, and if anyone says otherwise, then I’ll tear them apart.
The front door of Bannog’s shop crashes open, and I reel back, unsheathing my claws. Bannog gets to his feet.
“Bannog! Where the bloody hell are ye?”
We both flinch at Stannog’s grating tone, and I turn to Bannog. I didn’t know he was even coming today.
The ogre sighs regrettably. “Well, well, if it isn’t my lovely cousin. I wasn’t expecting him till midnight. We were going to deck the tree in boughs of holly…”
That’s when I spy the fir tree bejewelled with various trinkets in the corner of his lounge. It's best I leave. I’m not too fond of Yule. I abandoned all that pure, childhood wonder the day I left the farm.
“Does he know how to knock?” I gripe, slipping my claws back inside my gloves. I’m pretty sure Bannog’s front door is destroyed now.
“Stannog? Knock?” Bannog guffaws at the preposterous thought, then proceeds to make another pot of tea.