Tegwyn had been that other…
He was what was known as achangeling: a faerie child that steals the place of a human infant in their cradle. Except in these circumstances, the human mother willingly accepted the trade.
His mother made a bargain with the Fae, and if she didn’t uphold her end and raise Tegwyn until his twenty-first year, then there would be dire consequences to pay.
What if the merchant returned with her son and rescinded the contract? Would his mother swap him back without a second thought?
Would the merchant return him to the land of faerie? Would he even find a place in that elusive realm again?
Tegwyn had been raised amongst humans his whole life. He would be a pariah in the faerielands as much as he was in the human world.
Tegwyn would never belonganywhere...
Barely rustled behind him as footsteps approached, and then a gasp pierced the sweet summer air. “Tegwyn!”
Soft hands lifted him from the ground, and then her face swam into view. Beautiful red curls framed a heart-shaped face. His mother really was the epitome of grace.
By all human accounts of the Fae, they were often described as beautiful or terribly dreadful. No mere human could ever compare to either extreme.
But whoever spewed those silly rumours had obviously never met his mother. There was simply no one more beautiful…
A worried crease formed between her soulful brown eyes, and the way she looked at him simply broke his heart. He didn’t deserve her love.
“Oh, Tegwyn. What happened to you?”
His lip trembled, and then he looked the other way, squeezing his eyes. “I’m s-sorry, Mother…”
She cradled him in her arms, shushing him. “It’s all right, sweetheart. We won’t let them get away with this.”
Tegwyn hiccoughed. “They…killed Henry…”
His mother paused. “Henry? Oh,Henry… Oh… Tegwyn, my child, I’m so sorry. We will get you a new pet, I promise.”
He shook his head. “But… I want Henry…”
Finally, he burst into tears, burying his face into his mother’s cotton shawl.
She stroked his head, rubbing her fingers gently across his tender bumps, and he breathed in her scent. She smelled of lavender…
“Come. Let’s get you cleaned up.”
She lifted him in her arms, carrying him back to the farmhouse, and once there, she seated him on a stool, tending to his cuts with warm water and salt.
She needn’t bother, though. Tegwyn was Fae—the wounds would heal well enough on their own, but she still tended to them regardless with the utmost care.
When she pressed a wet cloth to his forehead, he hissed in pain, stamping his feet on the stone floor of the kitchen. “It hurts!”
But then she pecked his head, ruffling his hair. “There, all better.”
Tegwyn cast his eyes to the ground. “Please don’t tell Grandpa I was fighting again.”
Mother sighed, gripping his chin. “He will find out eventually.”
He closed his eyes. “But…he’ll be ashamed of me…”
“Listen to me. Your grandpa loves you very much, Tegwyn, but fighting is never the answer.”
He blew a sigh, wafting her hair from her face. “I know.”
