Page 12 of The Fae Lord

Garratt tilts his head from side to side. “See,” he says, gesturing to the table where the Sunborne were sitting, “I knew you hadn’t lost your touch.” He taps his temple. “Still got it.”

For a moment, anger begins to sizzle beneath my skin. But then, as I study this cocky elf, a laugh blooms instead. “I like you, Garratt.” I tip my glass at him, then gesture for him to fill it. “You have balls of steel, I’ll give you that.”

Shrugging, Garratt says, “Nothing to lose. You either agree, and my little empire grows overnight, or you kill me and, well, I won’t know any better then, will I?” He hands me my glass back.

“Very wise.” I hesitate, then nod at him. “Very well. Elven police. Why not? But hear me, you will have no jurisdiction over the Sunborne. You are to police the Shadowkind only. Watch them, make sure they are not gathering in groups, talking in the shadows, plotting...” I pause, inhaling sharply.

“Plotting to overthrow their rulers,” the elf finishes my sentence for me. “I understand.” He extends his hand to shake mine.

“Your first priority will be to find the ones who escaped from the castle.”

Garratt nods again. “Top of the list, my lord.”

“And in return?” I squeeze his hand tightly, but he does not flinch. “What do you want from me, elf?”

“Oh, that’s easy.” Garratt squeezes back. He is not as strong as me, but I appreciate that he has the nerve to attempt to be. “I want you to allow the Gloomweavers back into the city. And turn a blind eye to what might happen when they are here... enjoying themselves.”

Gloomweavers... That was not a part of the bargain I was expecting. The slave traders have long been banned from entering Luminael – unless they are here for an auction.

No taverns, inns, or whorehouses.

Elves are sneaky, but Gloomweavers are sadistic. Cruel. Feral. They do not have magic, but they have brute strength and a viciousness that scares even the most highly skilled Sunborne fae.

The Sunborne will despise me for letting them back in, and the Shadowkind will be used, abused, mistreated. The Gloomweavers will bring what’s left of this city to ruin.

But without Alana, we will be ruined anyway.

And without this elf, I fear I will never find her.

“Very well.” I take back my hand, down my whisky, and stand. “You find me my prisoners. You get your Gloomweavers back.”

The elf grins widely, then wipes his hands on his tabard and rests them on his hips. “You have yourself a bargain, my lord. I’ll start at sunrise.”

FIVE

Alana

ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO

My mother skims her hands over my shoulders, then begins to braid my hair. Her fingers move deftly, like feathers, barely noticeable. Everything about her is soft. She is warm sunshine, and delicate raindrops, and all the good things that exist in the world.

She is the only one who truly knows me. She sees what I am deep inside, and she is not afraid.

Unlike my father.

Unlike my brother.

Samuel glares at me from over by the fireplace. He loves me and yet he hates me because I see parts of our mother that he can’t see. I anticipate her moods, and her needs, and I am more like her best friend than her child.

Because I feel it.

I also feel him.

I feel all of them, all of the time, and sometimes it is so overwhelming I think it might drive me insane.

I need to learn to shut it out, but no one can help me.

As my thoughts drift, my mother senses it and gives my hair a gentle tug. She knows when I’m becoming overwhelmed, and she does her best to ground me.

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