I yelp when Tegwyn suddenly appears before the high Fae lord, gripping him by the buttons of his brocaded doublet.
I’ll never get used to the way these creatures move. One place one moment, and another the next.
I cast my eyes around the bar, finally seeing them for the first time.
How they allsnarl.They deceived me, every single one.
When I drank the honeyed wine, I could have sworn these faeries were my friends. I hardly seemed to notice the way they licked their lips, or the way they sneered at my shame. I can’t believe I put my trust in them.
Tegwyn brandishes an iron cross, holding it up to Lord Valent’s throat, and wait…that’smycross.
What ishedoing with it?
Several Fae gasp when they see what he’s holding, and they no longer look so pleased with themselves. Tegwyn came to this tavern armed. They better not piss him off.
The cross hovers inches from Lord Valent’s throat, and there’s no missing the spark dancing inside his curious eyes as he studies the iron.
Tegwyn, on the other hand, doesn’t fare so well. Sweat drips from his face, and it’s obvious the iron is having a far more adverse effect on him than Lord Valent. Still, he never loses his composure.
Mama always told me how iron repelled the Fae, but I never really believed it was true until now. To see it in action…it’s pretty alarming.
His breathing becomes laboured, and for the first time tonight, I trulyseehim.
Tegwyn is sick, and he needs my help.
“Stayawayfrom her,” he growls, never breaking his hold on my father’s iron cross.
Lord Valent chuckles. “Do you really think that scant bit of iron can harm me?”
Tegwyn bares his teeth, gripping the cross tighter, and even with gloves, the iron is hurting him. “Why? You’re Fae, aren’t you?”
The high lord’s smug smile becomes almost serpentine. “Yes... But not in the way you are, I’m afraid,Rogue.”
Tegwyn growls, “You think you’re so much better than the rest of us just because you live in a fancy castle by the Pool. The thing is, I’ve lived amongst humans my whole life. So, I think I can speak for myself when I say that I can handle a bit ofscantiron…”
Lord Valent peers at the cross again, and a silent gasp escapes me once a bead of sweat drips down his alabaster face. Heisafraid.
“Ivy, head to the door,” Tegwyn orders, never taking his glowing eyes off the high Fae lord.
What kind of high Fae lord? I couldn’t say. As far as I’m aware, he’s Unseelie. But one thing I do know for certain: Lord Valent is not a friend. I really was a fool to trust him.
Finally, I rise, joining Tegwyn on the other side of the table, and his wrath is almost palpable. I can taste it on my tongue.
He leans closer to me. “Go. I will be right behind you.”
I glance towards the door, hoping no one will try to stop me. All the other faeries keep their distance. The moth-winged female from earlier regards me as if I’m pond scum. What did I ever do to evoke her wrath?
The ogre behind the bar flaunts a bronze mace, and I make my decision, backing away to the door.
Tegwyn lets go of Lord Valent’s collar, shielding me from view as he backs me to the door, and warmth trickles through me when I realise he is protecting me.
The door materialises, and Tegwyn nods towards it. “Through the door. Quickly.”
My heart thumps, and I grip his hand, squeezing his fingers tightly. “Don’t leave me, all right?”
I feel the eyes of the beautiful moth-winged female from the other end of the tavern, and I’m sure she can hear everything we’re saying with her Fae ears.
And I bet she hates me even more for it.
