Page 56 of Tales of a Monstrous Heart
‘It isn’t that.’ I dropped my gaze to my own glass. No. It was because wondering how he survived forced me to wonder why my father hadn’t. Fearful of the power of whatever beast could have kept him from coming back to us.
I shook the thought away, looking up once more to see him studying me over the rim of his glass.
‘How did you end up in the middle of all this?’ I asked, braver with the drink at my lips.
‘A lord’s job is to serve his king and any son in his line.’ He shrugged, downing his drink as if to chase the bitterness of the words from his tongue before sitting forward and bracing his elbows on his knees to finish the story. ‘But this house could serve him no longer when he sold his soul to the Old Gods. My father dedicated his life to fighting this darkness. Since he’s not here, I owe it to him to continue.’
‘Even with the Council being so difficult?’ I frowned, knowing he could have easily abandoned all of this and the Council’s hypocrisy. There was nothing in it for him apart from frustration and the agonising torment of watching the world fall apart.
‘They have no choice,’ he replied. ‘The dark leaves a mark on all of us, even them. They need me, unless they want the demons they sold their souls to for a king’s love to come and collect payment.’ He smiled sadly, his gaze drifting to the fire, uncomfortable with the admission. ‘I made a promise.’
I finished my own drink, trying not to cough at the burning sensation in my throat.
‘I’m sorry I ruined the investigation at Paxton Fields.’ I sighed.
‘We got everything of value from the excursion.’ He reached out to take my glass, a strange foolish rush moving through me at the barest brush of our fingers.
‘I haven’t seen ruins like that in a very long time.’ I leant back in the chair, trying to behave myself as I forced myaching shoulders to relax. ‘My father took me to the Kysillian temples when I was six for my blessing.’
‘That must have been a sight.’ Interest lit his features, his head tilting to show the strong line of his throat. ‘The Kysillians guard their temples well from the stories.’
I smiled. Deep in the north was where the Kysillians were said to have settled now. Out of reach of the Council rules and oppressive laws.
‘I can barely remember it now.’ I rubbed a circle against my palm, remembering the rough feel of the statues, of the ancient pillars and the burn of the magic encased in stone. ‘It feels like no more than a dream.’
To be loved. To be safe.
‘You said he fought.’ A darkness fell over Emrys’s expression. An understanding. ‘He was there until the end.’
There. In those killing fields.
I nodded, swallowing around the sadness clogging my throat. ‘He didn’t have a choice.’
No. He was nothing but fodder for their cannons.
‘Those Kysillians in the settlements in the north never came for you?’ he asked softly, those curious grey eyes fixed on nothing but me.
I frowned. ‘Why would they? I’m mortal-touched.’
The Kysillian elders would see me as a half-breed, no better than a mortal or lesser fey, despite how dominant my Kysillian blood would always be. I would never look mortal. Neither would any children I produced, if I was capable.
Darkness seeped into the corners of Emrys’s gaze. ‘Their misfortune.’
‘From my records of misconduct … maybe a blessing to them,’ I countered, inclining my head, unable to stop the self-mocking smile that came to my lips.
He blinked as if I’d surprised him. My reward was watching that darkness slowly leave his expression as he returned my smile, so easily I felt it soothe something raw inside of me.
‘My misfortune then,’ he corrected wryly.
A comfortable silence fell between us, filled by nothing but the crackling hearth, and all the things left unsaid. I watched the fire shift ravenously, performing under my assessment of it.
‘I should get back to her.’ I sighed, knowing I was doing myself little good getting too attached to Emrys’s company. The calmness and chaos he supplied all at once. I had too much to think about and all of it was impossible when he was looking at me.
‘I have something to help.’ He stood to full height, moving to his desk and opening the drawer. He came back to me with a vial of blue liquid that glowed with its own light, shifting from blue to green.
A strange substance I’d recognise anywhere.
‘Transfiguration draught,’ I breathed.
