The only reason why they tolerated him was because of his grandfather. His grandpa’s farm was the staple of the town, and many of the townsfolk worked on his sprawling fields. But Tegwyn wished that they could justbe a little nicer to him. Mother always told him to never stoop to their level and to prove them wrong. He was not a monster, but a boy with a big heart.
Still, he could happily stay up in the tree forever if it meant that he never had to see a single person in that town again. They only picked on him because he was different. Tegwyn wasFaeafter all, with skin of bright green gold.
Shouts echoed below the tree, and his heart beat faster when he recognised the voices.
It was the butcher’s three sons—Duke, Earl, and Marque.
The Pigsworths were always giving him a hard time. Their father’s abattoir was right next to the farm, so they passed by often.
Duke, the eldest, was eight years old and nearly twice the size of Tegwyn. He liked to throw stones at him whenever he saw him in town, yet the boy received no punishment from his mother.
In Rosemary Pigsworth’s eyes, Duke was the perfect prince. All three of her boys were royalty where she was concerned. Which was why she bestowed them with such grand names.
Duke was jealous of Tegwyn because he could read and write much better than he could. As a matter of fact, Tegwyn was the best in his class at the local schoolhouse, and as a result, he had no friends.
As cumbersome as Duke was, though, he still had a girlfriend—seven-year-old Milly Shoehorn, the cobbler’s daughter. She was the most beautiful girl Tegwyn had ever seen. With soft golden hair, bright sapphire eyes, and cheeks as pink and round as apples…
His insides squirmed whenever he glanced her way, and he could never quite understand the hot feeling he got under his skin whenever she walked by, smelling of nothing but sweet lilac. Tegwyn had often seen it described aslovein some of the books he read, but how could that be possible? He thought only grown-ups fell in love.
He would never get a girl like Milly, even if he lived to be five hundred. Only the Dukes of this world got girls like Milly…
All three boys walked beneath the tree, and he held his breath. Hopefully, they would just leave and go on their way.
Tegwyn didn’t want any trouble today.
“What the hell is that?” Duke exclaimed in disgust.
“Ergh, it’s a worm!”
That was Marque. The middle child.
It took Tegwyn a moment to realise what they were talking about, and when it finally dawned on him, his insides turned cold.
They had found Henry… His pet caterpillar.
Henry was the larva of an Elephant Hawk moth, and Tegwyn supposed that he saw a kindred spirit in the ugly green caterpillar, hence why he saved it from a carrion crow the other day.
“Kill it! Kill it!” the boys started to chant, and Tegwyn had no choice but to be brave. He would fight, for Henry’s honour.
Sliding down the tree with his claws, he landed like a cat before all three boys, and the look of pure shock on their faces almost made him caw with laughter.
No one else in town could move quite like Tegwyn, and to think he was still a kid.
How would they look at him when he was fully grown and could utilise his magic to its fullest potential?
That was the real reason why they were afraid of him. The Fae could glamour and trick humans, and many had succumbed to their twisted ways.
Yet Tegwyn wasn’t like those faeries. He had never even made a bargain before…
But now, he may have to bargain for Henry’s life.
Duke, with his round, scabby face, sneered when he looked at Tegwyn.
Tegwyn puffed out his chest, repeating the mantra in his head—noteeth, no claws.He didn’t want to hurt anyone.
“Give him back, Duke,” he said, looking the boy straight in his beady eyes.
Yet the boy merely smirked, holding up the jar that housed Henry. “This worm yours, lizard boy?”
