Chapter 27 Tegwyn #2
Stannog stomps towards the lounge like a rampaging giant, but his next words stop me in my tracks.
“I know the little git’s here. Who does he think he is, bringing that dung girl to the village on the night of the festival?”
Dung girl? My heart thumps, and then my claws make their appearance again. It looks like blood is about to be spilled after all.
The door to Bannog’s lounge flies open, and there’s no mistaking the blonde inside the arms of the ogre.
“Let me go!” she cries, kicking and screaming, but then her voice fades the moment a deathly snarl slips from my throat.
Now my world is dripped in black as I zero in on Stannog. The bastard. He hurt her…
The ogre drops her at my feet, and she peers up at me meekly, bottom lip shaking. “T-Tegwyn.”
Yet I only have eyes for Stannog.
“What did you do to her?” I breathe, widening my stance as I prepare to attack.
Ivy gasps when she spies my unsheathed claws, and then her face pales five shades lighter.
The ogre scoffs when he sees my pitiful stance. “I saved her life, that’s what happened. If I hadn’t stepped in on time, she’d be dead. Ye shoulda seen her, staring at the king’s statue like she had a death wish!”
My lip twitches, and then I expose my teeth. “That better be true or—”
Stannog caws like a crow. “Or what? You’ll slice me up with your claws?”
I snicker, eyes flashing like warning beacons. “Don’t tempt me…”
I don’t look away from the spiteful ogre, so at odds with his kind cousin. The bastard has always had it out for me, ever since I arrived at his doorstep at the age of fifteen. And then I had the gall to bring a human to his shitty tavern, one that’s in serious need of repair, might I add.
Finally, Bannog gives a dramatic sigh, falling back on his wingback chair. “All this yelling is making me thirsty. How about we all sit down and discuss our grievances like civil beings?”
Ivy glances at Bannog curiously, and when he catches her gaze, he waves. “Why, hello, darling. My, you’re even prettier than your posters.”
He chuckles warmly, then proceeds to pour that steaming honey-gold tea into not two, but four cups.
I don’t think Ivy is in any fit state to have tea with the likes of Stannog just yet.
She’s still cringing in terror, sensing that raw, angry energy rippling from the big brute in waves.
Ogres are legendary in human folklore; I bet she has heard many tales, ones that involve human babies and using their bones as toothpicks.
While some of those stories may be true, I don’t think Stannog has ever feasted on a human infant. He's a bastard, sure, but he’s not a complete brute.
Then there’s Bannog, who knits tea cosies and bakes sweet biscuits—I just hope his ingredients don’t involve the ground-up bones of children.
Stannog puffs out his chest when I finally look away, focusing on Ivy this time. I should have known she would’ve followed me. After all, I can’t tell a lie to save my goddamn life. Now she is surrounded by enemies on all sides, and I close my eyes, gripping the bridge of my nose.
“Ivy… why?”
She wraps her cloak around her shoulders. “I’m… sorry…”
I purse my lips as I try to come up with a plan. How the hell am I going to get her out of the village?
I’m surprised the spriggan even let her through the gate. They hate humans even more than Stannog.
Ivy starts shivering, and Stannog winces at her feebleness, joining his cousin for tea at last. Yet Bannog only has sympathy for the poor girl. “Oh, my.”
His gaze falls on me, and a knowing smile spreads across his face. “Here. Hand her this.”
He passes me a silken handkerchief from his waistcoat, and I look at him, confused.
Bannog waves his hand at the crying Ivy, and I put two and two together.
He wants me to be the shoulder she cries on, and I grind my teeth, stuffing his stupid handkerchief into my pocket.
I don’t need his help; I can deal with her fragile human emotions all on my own, thank you.
But when I spy her weeping on the floor, something strange comes over me, and then the sensation grips my heart like a vise, squeezing tightly until I can no longer breathe.
I have to find a way to make her stop—faeries are drawn to the scent of human despair.
I suppose most of the faeries in this village are too drunk by now to notice the difference between a human and a puka, but I’m still not taking any chances.
“Come on, get up.” I help her to her feet, feeling the burning eyes of each ogre on the other side of the room.
I don’t need an audience.
“The… the king…” she mutters.
A breath loosens from my lips. “Yes, his statue.”
She shakes her head, and a shudder wracks through her body. I stop, regarding her strangely.
Something has rattled her deeply to her bone, and that’s when the hair pricks at the back of my neck.
“A few months ago…in the woods…I saw a raven…” she whispers.
It sounds like gibberish, but my throat still bobs as I swallow. “A raven?”
She nods. “Yes. One with shining eyes of quicksilver. It had been watching me.”
Bannog gasps, yet I don’t take my gaze off Ivy. Her heart’s thumping so fast, it vibrates through her back, and I resist the urge to pull her close.
She’s cold to the touch.
Bannog gets up and shuts the window, and then he pushes Ivy gently towards the fireplace. Ivy shrinks once she takes his mammoth-sized chair, and she’s barely present now.
The sight of her breaks my spirit. She’s so fragile, it hurts to look at her. This kingdom will eat her alive from both sides.
The humans want her dead, and the Fae want her dead, and I guess she really isn’t safe anywhere.
Bannog pours her tea. “Here.”
She looks at him warily. When he smiles, it reaches his kind eyes. I get her hesitation; she was taught to never accept food or beverage from the Fae, and after the time she spent in Stannog’s tavern, who could blame her?
“Now, tell us what you saw, dear,” Bannog says kindly, and she looks my way.
“It’s all right,” I assure her. “He’s safe.”
She meets Bannog’s gaze. “The…the night I escaped the cottage…after the king sent his men to arrest my family… I saw a silver-eyed raven in the woods, and it looked at me as if it knew me.”
She shudders, sipping her tea to warm her soul.
Bannog stills. “A raven with silver eyes…” It’s more of a statement than a question.
He gives me a knowing glance, and I lower my hood, unsure of how to proceed. Stannog couldn’t give two shits, sneaking liquor into his tea from a secret flask.
Ivy peers around the room, noticing the sudden hush. “Does that mean something?”
Bannog waits for me to explain, but when I pull my cowl down further, he sighs, doing me the honour instead. “Sweetheart, that silver-eyed raven… That was King Corvis. It’s why his court’s sigil is a raven. He’s a shapeshifter. Fae. Just like us.”
Ivy shivers, and her teacup rattles upon its saucer. “I…thought so...”
Now silence, except for Ivy’s rattling and shaking. I just want to reach across and put her at ease, but I don’t want to give Bannog any more ammunition. He's teased me enough already.
“And the wolf? Was that him, too?”
Bannog taps his chin. “A wolf? I don’t think so. Have you had another strange encounter with an animal that doesn’t seem quite of this world?”
“Y-yes. It chased me all the way to the north, the biggest wolf I’d seen. It had silver eyes, too. It would have killed me if it weren’t for my horse…”
She trails off, losing herself in the memory, and I know the day well. It was the day I found her at the mercy of that kelpie.
“It coulda been one of the guards sent to sniff her out,” Stannog chimes in, and so kind of him to join.
“The king’s guard has already come snooping around me tavern, anyway. Relax, I didn’t tell them nothin.'”
He looks at me pointedly once he spies the hate spilling from my eyes, and I draw my claws, making Ivy tense.
My heart pounds, drowning out all sound. "Who?”
All the faces from Stannog’s tavern rush through my mind. Whoever they are, they’re dead.
Stannog swigs his spiked tea. “The culprit has already been dealt with.”
It doesn’t look as if I’ll be getting any more information from him, yet my bets are on the puka. I saw the way it looked at Ivy that night.
Now I regard Stannog curiously. Maybe he does have a heart deep down. For all his talk of hating humans, he seems eager to keep this one alive, and I wonder… He even saved her from Lord Valent, telling me to get her home.
I startle once Ivy slams her fist onto the table, and that crying, shivering girl has long gone now. “Why is he doing this? I was just a baby when he dethroned my father. A man I never even met. I was raised by a healer and a blacksmith, for goodness’ sake!”
Her shouting bounces off the walls, and it’s a good thing Bannog already shut the window. None of us know what to say.
King Corvis already has everything he could ever want. He has a throne and an entire court at his disposal.
Unless he thinks she is after his throne. It is her birthright, after all.
But if he deems her such a threat, then why didn’t he kill her when he found her in the woods? Perhaps he was just seeing what he was up against.
Still, it’s best we don’t take any chances. We can’t let him lull us into a false sense of security.
Now we have to figure out how to get her back to the mountain. Luckily for us, Bannog has an idea.