Page 3 of His Dark Delights
“Moo!” she continued complaining about the state of the dilapidated barn. Millie and I marched the herd toward the old wooden fence around the farm. The chickens flocked into their coop and the goats trotted into a barn that sat in a sad state of disrepair.
“We need to get the barn fixed up before next winter. It’ll make it through the rain, but the snow will be brutal when it comes.” My shoulders drooped and a pang twisted through my ribs. “Father would have had it fixed by now.”
The cow nudged me playfully and a tired laugh breezed through my lips. I patted her nose and forced a smile that didn’t reach my eyes. “Alright, get in there, girl.” I ushered Millie inside before struggling to shut the stubborn barn door. “I suppose that needs to be fixed, too.”
Weighed down by the exhaustion of the turbulent day, I sagged into the cool, aged wood. My blood tingled under my skin and an odd awareness flushed through my body. Even as I leaned my forehead on the barn door, my fingers found their way to my lips, tracing them as I recalled the shape of his—
A distant shout at the edge of the field cracked me out of my wanton musing. Clopping hooves on hard packed dirt so late in the day sent my heart leaping into my throat with the promise of strangling me. My head snapped toward a cloaked figure on horseback that shot my nerves into high alert. Few traveled this way. It was one reason I felt safe, even alone.
“Lilliana!” the mysterious arrival shouted my name. The knot of dread whooshed from my stomach as I exhaled from recognizing the neighbor’s voice. Though I hadn’t seen Mr. Tatum since last summer and his late arrival struck me as unusual.
At the fence, I halted and slipped a scarf from my dress pocket over my head. With the tips of my oddly arched ears hidden, I confidently stepped through the gate that groaned as if a creature living in agony. I cringed but moved past it.
“Lilly!” As I’d suspected, one of the village locals approached on horseback.
“Good evening, Mr. Tatum!” I greeted with a wave as his brown mare trotted to a stop at the edge of the dirt road. A barely used path. I avoided venturing down it if I could help it.
“Hello, Lilly,” he said. Once his mare stopped, he scanned the lonely farm and cleared his throat. The corners of his kind eyes crinkled, showing how tired and weary the man was. Despite the age lining his face and years of hard work straining his body, an empathetic smile stretched his thin lips. “I’m sorry I didn’t come to offer my condolences sooner. I only heard about your father when I returned from my travels.”
“Oh.” The modest smile on my face dropped, and a gaping hole reopened in my chest. It really had been a while since I’d seen the neighbor.
“I’m sorry for your loss, Lilly. Mr. Faelynn was a good man. Lots of people in the village will miss him,” he offered kindly.
“Thank you, sir.” My throat constricted around the words. I thought the well of my anguish had run dry,but the faded sensation of tears pricked behind my eyes anew. “Winter was rough for all of us. How is your family?”
Mr. Tatum nodded, narrowed eyes briefly scanning the tree line again before meeting my gaze.
“They’re doing well. Had a new grandchild join the fray while selling my wares in the capital. The village has become noisier.” He chuckled. “Ah, but I have this from my wife. She’s awfully torn up about your father and you being left alone out here, so she made this for you.” He reached into a bag hanging over his saddle, then passed it over.
I gratefully accepted, eyes widening as I detected honey rising from the parcel. Overwhelmed at the kind gesture, I gasped, “Honey cake! Oh, I love honey cake.”
“There’s a jar of fresh honey butter in there, too. Same recipe your father always came into town for. My missus knew he bought it especially for you, Lilly.” The sympathy in his tone scraped the raw edges of my grief.
I hugged the gift to my chest, sniffing back a flood of unwanted tears. “Thank you so much. Will you give Mrs. Tatum my thanks as well?”
No one else from the modest excuse of a village had offered condolences when Father passed. Aside from the village cleric who recited Father’s last rites over the freshly churned earth of his grave. Once buried, no one dared speak to me anymore. After one harrowing attempt to exchange goods in town with everyone sneering or scurrying away from me, I stopped trying altogether. Better to remain on the edge, forsaken as an outcast where it was safer.
Lonely. But safe.
“Certainly, Lilly. Though, I fear I must add that Ididn’t come bearing only cake. I have a warning for you as well.” Mr. Tatum gripped his mare’s reins, and stress lined his aged face, distressed by the news burdening his tongue.
Dread skittered along my skin, and goosebumps followed. My heart turned into stone as I leashed back control of my composure.
“You’ve heard of the new king, yes?”
His somber question landed like a swift kick to the gut. I’d heard enough gossip and whispers about the rise of the new monarch during my final ventures into the village last summer. Mixed reactions included excitement about the news. It was something to talk about, after all. But his ascension to the throne of Elleslan brought strife and increased prejudice. Which led to open war.
“He’s been more active in this region recently. We don’t talk about it in the village as a courtesy to your father, but most assume the reason he kept you secluded.”
I took a small step back, and my heart thumped painfully.
“Now, I’m not saying we’d give you away. We all admired your father in the village. But I’ve heard nothing good about this ruler on my travels. King Soren or something or another. He’s brutal to the point of utter savagery. You need to be careful most of all, Lilly. There’s been word of soldiers in the woods. Knights who bear his banners are rampaging through the kingdom, hunting the fae, one region at a time.”
My mind briefly darted to the man in my bed, and my heart stopped.
“Do you know what they’re calling this new king?”Mr. Tatum asked solemnly. I shook my head. I recalled tales of the new king’s existence and rumors of his rise to power in the recent years, but not much more.
Mr. Tatum’s chest fell with his severe exhale. The older gentleman peered down at me with pity in his eyes, a frown deepening the brackets around his mouth. “They’re calling him the Fairy Butcher.”
