Page 114 of Tales of a Monstrous Heart
He didn’t need to finish. Boundaries between partner mages and master, but between mortals and fey too. How forbidden it was. Montagor’s mocking words about impropriety burning through me and leaving nothing behind but the brutal pain of that truth. How fragile this safety was, no matter how much I wanted it.
‘You don’t have to remind me of all the things I can’t do, Emrys,’ I answered tartly, unable to keep the burn of my tears out of my words. Unsure if he flinched, as I left him to his demons.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Do not wander too far into the night, seeking a glimpse of me in moonlight, for I am not there. I have gone where you cannot follow, and the more you call my name, the more you tether me to a place I can no longer be.
– The Wandering Tales of Amrock,1572
It was the story my father told on stormy nights, of beings driven mad by grief; a reasoning for why spirits existed. Trapped because those who loved them grieved too much. A story of magic that couldn’t find its way back to the earth. It took too much energy for a spirit to manifest, most waited years for a bare moment for someone to see them.
Yet, that girl had wished for me to see her and I couldn’t get her out of my mind. I’d seen her twice and I couldn’t shake the feeling she needed something.
Now she stood in the outline of the forest, nothing but a faint glow in the distance between the thicket of trees drenched in morning light. Again, trying to catch my eye. As if waiting for me, knowing she’d captured my curiosity.
The loud calls of the birds echoed through the barren wood as the cold morning air sent leaves rolling across the muddy ground.
A rustle and crack of twigs made me turn to see a small beast emerge from beneath the undergrowth.
Some would incorrectly call it a goblin. The creature’s skin was a pallid green, its stout, small body covered in sparse fur like a boar. It had a pointed snout, belly low to the ground and short stubby legs. Its clawed feet curling into the dirt as a thick tail dragged behind it through the thicket. Its familiar annoyed bottle-green eyes squinted up at me as a long, forked tongue licked out to taste the damp air.
It was indeed a rare creature called a rot badger.
‘You said you want to build up a tolerance,’ I teased. Alma had been repulsed by the idea, but it was the onlypleasantcreature I could think of that had a good nose for darkness.
Don’t remind me. Her sharp hiss seemed to say before she darted off into the shrubbery. Surprisingly fast for such a chubby little creature, chasing any trace of a scent that could help us.
Alma had come across to Fairfax Manor early with a pot of tea, as if she too couldn’t sleep. Or that she was worried about me as always. Wanting to know what troublesome plans I had for the day.
So here we were, back at the Verr pit in the middle of Fairfax Wood, trying to make sense of more madness. I took in the hideous cavern, still dark, even in the morning sunlight that trickled through the thick canopy of twisted branches above.
The houseguests had left for a hunting trip, the maid had reluctantly informed me. I didn’t press her further to ask if Emrys had also gone, didn’t dare mention anything to Alma about last night. I didn’t know what was more dangerous, letting myself get tangled with a lord, or keeping a ghoul beneath my bed.
He’d sent no note. I didn’t think I could have stomached the shame if he’d tried to apologise. I shouldn’t care.
There were other things that needed my attention, such as the wrongness of Fairfax Manor.
Pushing the thoughts of Emrys’s warm solid body pressed so close to mine, the sounds in the back of his throat and the demanding thoroughness of his kisses, to the back of my mind as I moved to stand in the entrance of the forsaken ruins.
The cavern was nothing but a cruel ancient beast as I stood in its maw. Only it didn’t have teeth anymore, just the hollow remains of all the terrible things that had come before. All the things this world had forgotten. What its hatred had allowed to happen.
The myths exist in your veins, Tauria. Nobody can take them from you, nobody can diminish them, only you can by forgetting. My father’s words seemed louder in the silence of this cavern.
I moved further inside, kicking at the clumps of earth and stone. Moving them to see the shattered remains of metal chain beneath, the fragments of bone now stained with ash.
Then a gleam of white caught my eye. I crouched down, pulling out my blade and letting it shift into a pocketknife as I dug the thing out of the earth, which seemed reluctant to let it go. The large piece too pale, ice cold to the touch and veined with dark. Like a piece of marble.
It was nothing more than a fragment, but I saw the symbols carved on the smooth surface, how yellow they were with age. A Verr summoning charm.
A fresh summoning rune carved on top. What had called that Caymor. Someone had put this here. Buried it recently.
A crack came from behind me, too loud to be a rot badger. It lurched me to my feet, turning with my blade twisted outwards, only to be greeted with the sharp amber eyes and sly grin of Thean Page. Their auburn hair falling over their shoulder, the ridiculous frill of their lace collar catching thesharp breeze. The fabric was thin enough to see they hadn’t bothered to bind their breasts. Or wear a cloak against the winter chill.
‘I could have hurt you,’ I snapped, brushing errant strands of hair out of my face as I lowered the knife.
‘I’d love to see you try, darling,’ they taunted, brushing their fingers down their britches. A luxurious dark green suede, completely impractical. Gold stitching in the shape of vines curved around the inside of their thighs, almost inviting someone to trace the pattern with their hand.
I scanned the forest, annoyed I hadn’t heard them creeping up on me as I pushed my blade and the cursed summoning fragment into my bag. I knew I shouldn’t keep cursed items on my person but I didn’t want to linger in a wood with a voyav that was clearly up to no good.
