Page 124 of Tales of a Monstrous Heart
‘I didn’t think a rumoured haunting and a case of hysteria would be important enough for your attention,my lord,’ I replied bitingly, gathering my hands before me like the perfect dinner guest, ignoring the feel of everyone’s gaze coming to settle on us, their focus like sharp pinpricks against my skin.
‘No,’ he mused, placing a finger against his lip in contemplation. ‘However, a Kysillian straining too far from her leash might be.’
Finneaus shifted behind Montagor uneasily, and then I felt the brutal chill of Emrys’s magic at my back. Curving over my bare shoulders like night mist, the intensity of it making Montagor stand taller as Finneaus took another step back.
‘Just in time, Emrys.’ Montagor’s smile was thin and vicious in greeting. ‘Shall we?’ He indicated to one of the shadowed passages that led off from the ballroom and made straight for it, as if he knew the house. Finneaus scuttling after him.
Emrys’s hand barely brushed my arm, giving what little comfort he could offer as the dark tense form of him led the way, leaving me no choice but to follow.
The damp air of the Fairfax house was more stifling than usual as we found ourselves in a small sitting room. The carpet threadbare, bookshelves plundered long ago for anything of worth. Dark marks on the walls where pictures had oncehung. A horrid, dusty collection of artifacts left on the shelves. Petrified scale samples, gilded feathers and other repulsive oddities won in conquest. The fire was lit but the smell of damp remained, stifling.
‘Mr Ainsworth has told me some interesting things, Miss Woodrow,’ Montagor began, stopping before the fire as he leant back against the mantel. ‘Someoversightsthat Blackthorn might have made where your magic is concerned.’
My heart began to pound uneasily against my ribs. The Fifth Library. Finneaus had been there. He’d seen it all.
‘Unless you want another mark, Montagor, I suggest you leave.’ Emrys voice wasn’t one I recognised. Too cold and quiet. Laced with a malice that made the small hairs at my nape stand on end. ‘Now.’
A cluster of teeth sat in a murky jar on the shelf next to me, suddenly jumping and clattering together almost in fear as they hit the glass. The remaining books slipped themselves further into the bookcase as a collection of crystals rolled across the shelf, as far from the threat Emrys and his magic as they could get. A viciousness in it I’d never felt before, not even in the council chamber.
‘Unfortunately, this isn’t your house.’ Montagor’s answering smile was hard with calculation. As he ran a gloved finger down his bruised cheek, confirming my suspicion of just who had given him that mark. ‘Maybe you do have thecrudetastes of your father after all.’
My cheeks flushed at the insinuation. That Emrys’s mother was rumoured to be a witch.
‘You’ll be pleased to know I’ve already put in my recommendation,’ Montagor continued as he picked at a piece of lint on his sleeve, unbothered by the tumultuous rage seeping from Emrys. ‘About the rebel activity at Paxton Fields.’
‘I’ll enjoy seeing how you’ll spin that lie.’ Emrys’ response came with harsh brutality, dimming the lamps with its force.
‘Of course, Miss Woodrow will have to answer to the Council for her trespassing.’ Montagor ignored his words, hateful gaze full of challenge as it met mine over Emrys’ shoulder. ‘I hear a cleansing is on the cards for her. I doubt her kind can survive long without their magic.’
‘Lord Fairfax—’ I began, but Montagor wasn’t about to listen to the truth. Not from me.
‘Is half mad.’ Montagor smiled thinly. ‘Vulnerable with his illness, only made moreuncomfortableby such a destructive presence I’d wager.’
‘So would I.’ Finneaus grinned.
‘Careful,Finneaus, you might piss yourself again,’ I taunted, watching his face pale before it burned red with embarrassment.
He bared his teeth, leering right at me. ‘You heathen little bi—’
Only Finneaus didn’t get to finish. He was pushed back by an invisible force, slamming back into the sideboard and knocking cheap ornaments onto the carpet as he wheezed weakly in pain.
‘Careful, Emrys, I’m certain your beast can defend herself.’ Montagor smiled, unmoved and unbothered by the assault on Finneaus as the boy struggled to drag in a breath. ‘She certainly has a foul enough mouth. Then again, our sort are rumoured to have a weakness for depraved tastes.’
There was menacing intent in Emrys’s responding silence, something working behind his dark eyes and the tension in his jaw.
‘I found the summoning scrawl the rebels left in that wood.’ Montagor’s lip curled in revulsion. ‘Once the stones have been destroyed, there will be nothing left to draw the dark.’
Destroyed. All that history. All those prayers. A home those fey could never return to.
‘You can’t.’ The words left me desperately with the horror of what he intended. ‘Those temples are peaceful remains—’
‘What would a Kysillian brute know of peace?’ He laughed bitterly at me.
I wasn’t surprised. It didn’t burn or shame me. No, it simply fired the rage simmering in my veins.
‘Clearly more than you.’ My voice was filled with the venom of my fury. ‘Section thirteen prohibits the destruction of fey burial sites.’
‘Nice try,pet,’ Montagor pressed, pushing away from the struggling fire, closer to us. ‘Temples hold no burials.’
