Page 107 of Tales of a Monstrous Heart
‘A Malac stone?’ Lord Canthorp asked, eyes alight with fascination. ‘What does that mean?’
‘The Malac were great warriors of ancient magic. They commanded beasts who breathed fire more vibrant than the sun. They believed the stone held the same power as that fire.’
‘A wonderful gift.’ One of the ladies grinned in encouragement to Lady Lovell, while sending a sour glance my way.
‘The leaders would wear it around their penis in celebration of a great victory,’ I finished, watching the colour drain from Lady Lovell’s features.
Someone dropped their cutlery, a glass smashed, and there was a dramatic wail from the end of the table as Thean almost choked on their wine.
‘H-how … fascinating.’ Lord Fairfax laughed. ‘Miss Woodrow, you should do an inventory for me. I’d hate to cause such offence.’
The rest of the table awkwardly joined in with his mirth after a pause, and thankfully, they brought another course out in that moment.
I expected to feel the heat of Emrys’s gaze, and his impatience to chastise me. Instead, every time I glimpsed him, someone was trying to get his attention, but he was grinning at his dinner, endlessly amused.
Chapter Thirty-One
Hate is a poisonous thing. A calling to the darkness beneath. Rotting and sour as it forms us into something we never wished to be. One of the Old Gods’ curses on this world, to make their summonings easier. To weather our hearts so their offers relieve us of the pain of our own destruction.
–An Introduction to Ancient Curses, 1289
Thankfully, everyone seemed to have forgotten I existed through the rest of the dinner and afterwards. Enough for me to linger by the window, looking out at the dark gardens as I held a glass of wine, rolling it between my palms. Waiting for the torture of the evening to be over. Before I was overcome with the urge to bludgeon Lord Percy to death with a wine bottle.
I turned to look out at the darkness beyond the window, part of me wondering if anything was looking back. The moon a pale silver disk against the blackness.
Yet, as I glared at my own reflection in the grimy glass, I couldn’t stop my attention being drawn to the cackles of laughter coming from the far corner, where the loudest guests had gathered, Emrys pulled deep into the fray, either by choice or obliged, I didn’t know. Shouldn’t care.
A flare of light in the darkness beyond the window caught my eye, just by the trees at the side of the house. I leant closer to the window, holding my breath so it didn’t fog it as I tried to focus on the shape. A small spectre, from what I could make out. Maybe the same one from Paxton Fields. But it darted around the other side of the house.
My temples ached with the threat of a headache, like a creature clawing at my mind. I put my wine down on the sideboard, turning sharply to try and find where the spectre went, wondering if the gardens were still open as I ran headfirst into something solid.
‘Good gracious, Miss Woodrow. Are you all right?’ Lord Fairfax asked, breathless with my assault.
‘I’m so sorry,’ I blurted out, pulling back and trying to steady the old man. I could have knocked him clean off his feet but thankfully he remained upright, smiling as he fixed his grey hair with trembling fingers.
‘It’s no trouble. I came to see if you were enjoying the evening.’
‘Of course, they don’t offer such entertainment at the Institute.’
‘No, I wouldn’t say they do. How dour they’ve all become since they took power.’ He nodded, tired blue eyes taking in the room. As if wanting be anywhere but here.
‘I don’t have any complaints,’ I replied easily. Not falling into the trap of disrespecting the Council to a stranger.
‘Really?’ he pressed, a playfulness in his eyes that had little to do with kindness. ‘You seem startled.’
‘Sorry, I thought I saw something outside.’ I shook my head, unsure how I’d lost control of myself so easily.
‘This is an old house; spirits are bound to dwell,’ he reasoned, but his politeness didn’t distract me from the lie in his words.Fey spirits didn’t dwell in places like this. Not unless they were trapped. ‘Robert found it easy enough to find his way back to me.’
Robert. His son. The potency of that grief, the glimmer of tears in the man’s eye, made my stomach knot. Pain at his loss, at how much I understood it. I didn’t want to. Wanted no connection to this lord and all the horrid secrets his house kept.
‘I’m glad.’ I smiled, even if it was nothing but madness. I was glad he had that comfort if nothing else.
‘Come.’ He offered his arm gently, giving me no chance to refuse. ‘You’ll find this interesting.’
Unease brushed across my bare shoulders, hoping he wasn’t about to show me some petrified creature, only for him to move to an alcove bookcase with a small seating area before it - off to the side where I imagine guests would play cards. The dusty chairs clustered together for privacy.
‘My father was a great lover of the game.’ He waved his hand to the small table, where a game board was set up. ‘Despite his other … reserved beliefs.’
