Page 25 of Tempting the Fae Lord
How did he even learn that name?
Had to have been Eulayla.
And how she learned was a night I’d rather forget.
The human babe begins to cry. I take a deep, calming breath and relax my muscles. My tension cannot be helping her. I rub her back and sing to her as we fly north. The unnaturally fast speed is hard for the humans, and I can’t communicate with her in the same way I could with the fae babe, so it’s more difficult to offer comfort. But in time, she quiets, and so too does my mind. Babes are good for that.
In a few short hours, we arrive at the tree line of the evergreen forest, and I land to walk the rest of the way.
But something feels off.
I catch a scent on the breeze.
Something smells off too. Sweet, but not in a pleasant way. Rather, in a rotten way. Sugary and earthy and the air is too still and too damp, like stagnant water incubating slime. Disgusting.
Senses heightened, I linger, taking stock of our surroundings. But beyond the general sense of wrongness,there’s no apparent cause. If I were alone, I’d forge ahead, but I’m hesitant to bring the babe into a potentially dangerous situation.
So I wait.
But not for long.
“So you’re the infamous Gatekeeper,” says a female voice from farther ahead, though all I see are shadows. “I thought you’d be taller.”
A cool stillness washes over me. A muscle twitches in my jaw as I focus my senses to home in on… what? Is this a threat?
But who could threaten me?
“And with a stolen infant, no less.” The voice’s owner creeps closer, yet I still cannot see her. “I take that to mean there’s a new fae-souled on this side of the gate tonight.”
“That’s none of your concern.”
“You might think you make the rules, Gatekeeper, but no longer. You will grant me safe passage through to the fae realm, or you won’t live to see another night.”
If I weren’t so angry, I’d laugh. “You dare threaten me?”
“Not me. Us. And yes. We dare.”
“Show yourselves.”
“No, I’d rather not. Instead, I’ll show you these.” A flare of scarlet light precedes a roiling wave of magic.
I stumble backward and call on my reserves, dwindling after two long, magically enhanced flights.
Movement stirs beyond the shadow, which I now understand to be an enchantment. Nothing is naturally that dark, so black even my heightened vision cannot pierce the veil. I’m dealing with a fae sorceress, then.
I check to be sure the babe is secure, then draw twin daggers from their sheaths at my thighs. It’s been an age since I’ve fought a decent battle.
Bloodlust sings in my veins, an old foe, an old friend—depends on the night.
But what staggers forth are not the battle hardened warriors I expect. Not a band of human soldiers either. Not witches, not shifters, definitely not fae. Not anything I’ve ever encountered before.
What are they?
I walk backward, not from fear but from the sheer impossibility of what I’m gawking at.
Dozens. No, not dozens. Hundreds.
Hundreds of decomposing bodies, reeking of rot and earth and every foul liquid imaginable. They totter and stumble my way, jaws gnashing.
