Page 78 of Tales of a Monstrous Heart
Repulsed, I turned to the large marble fireplace, only to see the head of a valek mounted on the wall, its beak wide open in an eternal scream of torment.
Maybe this was a nightmare after all. I remembered the caymor, the smoke incantation and the dark coldness of the pit.
I’d allowed them to catch me once more.
‘Don’t worry about a thing. I’ll do the talking.’ William dragged in a deep, pained breath. ‘Emrys will be here shortly. He has a habit of turning up when you need him.’
Emrys.
My heart sank to the pit of my stomach at his name. Emrys was a mortal man of flesh and blood and not some form of wish-granting spectre who turned up unannounced. No matter how many times he had done it to me recently.
No, we were on our own and in trouble from the look of the two men stood across from us in crisp liveries. Thankfully not Council hunters or guards, they rented out their services to lords who had issues with fey.
‘Listen, gentlemen, there has been a terrible misunderstanding,’ William began, his smile nervous, as a mere movement made him wince with pain.
‘I’m sure there has,’ came a cold voice from behind us in response.
A tall, heavyset blond man walked into view. A mere click of his fingers sent our guards away as he stood before us. He had the presence of a lord, but there was nothing remotely attractive or interesting about him. He was ruddy cheeked and wearing a coat that stretched over his bloated belly. Sweat dampened his forehead, blond hair thinning by the second.
‘I’m William Roydon, Lord Blackthorn’s assistant, and this is—’ William started politely, but the man held his hand up to silence him.
‘What were you doing in Fairfax Wood?’ He folded his arms tightly across his large chest.
In the light of the fire, I saw scarring at the tips of his ears. Someone had cut them to appear mortal. Definitely a lord’s son then, and a failed fey breeding experiment by the resentment in his eyes.
Mortals always did hate the shame of being of fey blood and still not possessing a drop of magic, knowing they were unworthy to wield it despite their title and wealth.
Fairfax Wood.
I didn’t know much about the Fairfaxes apart from their favour with the King and their lack of presence in the Council chambers following his death.
One more thing I now knew about them – they clearly really didn’t like trespassers.
‘We’re investigating the village outside Paxton Fields,’ I explained simply.
‘I heard some commotion from the village about a disturbance,’ the man mused, his gaze drifting to my face and then the curve of my breast that my torn muddy bodice revealed.
‘We need to speak to Lord Fairfax.’ I sat straighter in the chair, forcing myself to feel less groggy.
‘Do you?’ He considered me down his nose, as if I was an amusement.
‘This land is infected with dark magic. He needs to be informed. It’s a matter of great urgency.’
‘How well you monstrous beasts lie,’ he said. His smile was tight with its cruelty, those bloodshot eyes fixed on my lips.
‘She isn’t lying, we—’ William began, but faster than anticipated, the man grabbed his shoulder in threat. William grimaced, colour draining from his face.
‘Leave him alone!’ I snapped, leaning forward and almost burning straight through my bonds. Not caring about the consequences. ‘He’s hurt !’
‘Is he?’ the man replied. A malicious delight playing behind his eyes as the boy cried out before he released him, William panting through his teeth.
Beg me. That voice came back to me now from the darkest depths of my memory. Fear sparked in my heart the same moment magic flared to meet it, but all I could do was curl my fists.
Attacking a lord was a punishable offence, but the hearth crackled, taunting me as he came close to leer over me. Taking hold of my face, his warm stubby fingers, reeking of tobacco, dug into my cheeks.
‘Don’t touch me,’ I bit out between my clenched teeth. That rage simmering in my veins.
The fire surged behind him as I willed it to live for only a moment, forming a monstrous set of jaws that snapped out at him. He jumped away, but not before the flames could catch on the tail of his jacket. A cry left his lips as he stumbled over himself, smacking at the smouldering fabric.
