Page 15 of Bound to the Fae Assassin

“Please, find Thorn,” Farrow screamed. “Tell him Farrow Barton is here for his favor.”

A moment later her hands were tied in front of her, and something awful had been shoved in her mouth.

The village seemed to be bustling around her as usual. Had anyone heeded her call?

The wagon rumbled to a stop at the center of the town square and Farrow saw to her horror what their final destination was.

“Let no man say the elves have no honor for the dying,” one of her captors said, bowing to her as the gallows loomed behind him. “You may choose your death. Will it be fire, hanging, or arrows, m’lady?”

No, no, no…

She couldn’t slow her mind enough to form words. But with the gag in her mouth, she wouldn’t have been able to answer even if she’d wanted to.

As they laughed and tossed her unceremoniously out of the wagon, Farrow tried desperately to think. Surely, there was some way to escape. She just needed to figure it out.

But she didn’t have much time left, and things felt more hopeless than ever.

“Since the lady does not choose, then we will choose for her,” the ringleader announced, pulling her to her feet by her hair. “This mortal woman has scaled the wall between worlds. She shall die by fire to prepare her for her god’s hell.”

There were shouts of approval around the square.

“What is all this, then?” an arrogant voice demanded from beside them.

Farrow tried to look, but the villain still had her by the hair, and she couldn’t turn enough to see.

“Oh, Lord Daydleman,” one of the elves cried out.

The one holding her loosened his grip enough for her to turn at last.

A well-dressed Fae gentleman in a fancy hat stood before them, a look of disgust marring his otherwise handsome face.

“The girl scaled the wall,” one of the elves said, smiling in a toadying way at the man they called Lord Daydleman. “She is an invader.”

Farrow tried to look innocent, but it wasn’t easy when she was trussed up with her hair and skirts a mess.

“She invoked a debt in the name of Thorn,” a goblin woman shouted from the street beyond.

Farrow could have kissed her.

“Is this true?” Lord Daydleman demanded.

“She’s obviously lying, my lord,” the ringleader whined. “She just wants to save her hide.”

“How would she know that name?” Lord Daydleman asked.

He turned his attention to Farrow.

She met his eyes, though it was difficult to focus on his face. Then she looked deliberately down at the flower around her wrist.

His eyes followed and he took a step back, as if in surprise.

Hoofbeats echoing out on the stones stole Farrow’s attention.

A midnight black stallion galloped through the square, its rider wearing beautiful but simple clothing - dark breeches and a snowy white shirt. Dark hair streamed down his back, flowing upward slightly, as if he were underwater.

Impossible…

“Who calls for me?” the man asked, his deep voice echoing through the courtyard.

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