Page 46 of Eve of the Fae

He took a step closer to me and grabbed hold of my shoulders. “None of that, now. Tell me where they’re keeping her. Where is she?” He shook me once, hard.

“I don’t know. I don’t know who you mean.”

“My wife, you fool. Where is my wife?” He shook me again.

“I don’t think I know your wife. I don’t know where she is. Please. Let me go.”

“You’re not going anywhere until you tell me what you know.” He released my shoulders and paced away from me.

“I don’t know anything. Please.” I took the opportunity while his back was turned to get a look at him. He was dressed like he was going to a Renaissance fair. He wore a leather armor vest over a tunic and pants. Knives hung from his belt alongside a white horn attached to a leather strap.

He pivoted to face me, and my eyes dropped to stare at my feet.

“Impossible,” he said. “Tell me where they’re keeping Godda.”

My head snapped up, and I met his gaze before I could control my reaction. “What did you say?”

“You heard me, girl. Tell me where they’re keeping my wife.”

“Godda.” I blinked. “Your wife?”

“Are you really this daft? Yes. My wife. Godda. Where is she?” He sank into a throne-like chair and drummed his fingers on the arm.

“But that would make you…”

“Lord Edric Sauvage, master of these lands, entrusted by the king of England to keep the peace. Yes, I am.” He signaled to one of his men. “Now you, girl, will answer me. Tell me where they’re keeping my wife.”

“But Lord Edric is dead. You can’t be…”

“Of course I’m dead, you ridiculous girl.” He set his goblet on the arm of his chair and waved his fingers back and forth through the solid metal. Then he flicked his wrist and his hand became solid again as he lifted the goblet in the air.

“Impossible.” Maybe he was a magician. There was no way I was standing here talking to a ghost.

“And yet, here I am. And here you are. Now, we can do this the easy way, where you tell me what I want to know. Or we can do this the hard way.” He motioned to his men, who took a step toward me. “Which will it be?”

“I told you, I don’t know where your wife is.” I wanted to believe this man was delusional, but he did resemble the paintings I’d seen of my uncle’s dead ancestor. Perhaps this man was an actor playing a part in a reenactment for the festival. If so, he was doing a spectacular job staying in character.

“Either you are the most skillful liar I’ve ever met, or you are completely naive.” He stood and walked toward me, circling me once before continuing. “I don’t think you’re that talented of a liar, but you’ve clearly been marked by a Fae, so I suspect you’re not as naive as you’re acting. Shall we do this the hard way, then?”

Marked by a Fae? What did that mean? I wanted to ask, but I feared what reaction that would bring. Perhaps if I played along, he’d let me go.

He waved an arm, and the two men, who I assumed were guards of some sort, walked toward me.

One pinned my arms behind my back and the other wrapped his hand around my hair and pulled, exposing my throat. He held a knife against my skin and pressed the point under my chin. I pulled away from the knife, only to find myself pressed against the man behind me. Lurching away, I nicked my skin on the knifepoint. A trickle of warm blood dripped down my neck, ending the idea that I’d been plunged into a festival drama.

“Now, let’s try again,” said the man who thought he was my uncle’s ancestor. He stood over me and stared down at me.

Fear coursed through my veins. “I don’t know anything,” I said. “I swear it.” My body began to shake. Tears filled my eyes. I’d never see my family again. I tried to breathe and recall everything I’d learned about Edric and Godda.

Edric nodded at the man holding the knife to my throat. The knife point moved from my chin to slice at the shoulder of my gown. The fabric split and fell away to expose my shoulder. I grabbed for the fabric, only to find the knife returned to my throat. I froze, and a whimper escaped my lips.

“Sharp, isn’t it?” Edric asked. He ran his hand over my exposed shoulder and down my bare arm. “The one who marked you has good taste. But my Godda was more beautiful. And I want her back. I know the Fae have her. Tell me where she is.”

“Godda’s dead,” I said.

“Is she, now?” He frowned. “We both know that can’t be true. If she were, then she would be here, with me. I’ve searched the Underworld. She’s not there.” He gripped my earlobe and squeezed it. “I’ll ask again. Where is she?” He tugged my head closer to the blade, and I pulled against him, trying to inch away.

“I don’t know.” Tears escaped from the corners of my eyes and slid down my cheeks.

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