Page 15

At the top there is a small wooden door, which, when tried, opens outwards, and I find myself on the stone flagged upper ramparts. A cool wind blows my skirts around, and I’m grateful for the thicker fabric on my arms, even if my boobs are more exposed than I would like. I make my way over to the thick castellation and look out.

Mist swirls directly below me, but as I look further out, I can see rolling countryside which, naturally, is mostly moorland, butit follows a small stream down a valley towards an area which is a bright green and, although it’s a long way off, it could be the pastureland we flew over yesterday.

It is a wild place, one befitting a Wyrm like Fenrother.

As I walk the battlements, finding the view in all directions to be of the moorland, patches of heather blooming within the peaty scrubland, the sky above me darkens and the wind gets stronger, as if it wants to blow me from my lofty perch. As I’d prefer this not to happen, or at least not yet, I turn back to the door I used to enter the top of the castle.

Fenrother stands in my way. He seems taller, wider than before, his eyes almost glowing as he glares at me.

“Why are you here?” he demands. “Are you signalling other humans?”

And we’re back to the distrust…again.

“How many humans did you see when you took me?” I roll my eyes. “There was no one else, and I’m not signalling anyone. I wanted to have a look from the top. I’ve never been in a castle before.”

Fenrother’s heaving chest slows. His huge claws retract slightly. He is quite obviously confused by my answer.

“Humans have castles,” he says slowly.

“Yeah, and they keep other humans out of them, mostly,” I grumble.

“It isn’t safe for you here,” Fenrother rallies.

“I’m not going to jump off if that’s what you’re thinking.”

One look at his face tells me he absolutely was NOT thinking that, but he is now. His tail lashes as he closes the gap between us, hesitating only briefly before wrapping an arm around my body.

At least hethoughtabout what I said earlier about the touching, even if he’s chosen to ignore it. But Fenrother isn’t looking at me. He’s looking at the sky.

“There are worse things than falling.” He looks back at me. “And I would always catch you.”

As he speaks, there is an almighty crash of thunder and a lightning bolt. It’s so close my hair stands on end, and I can smell ozone.

“Shit!” I exclaim. “That has to be a direct hit. We should go in if it’s going to thunder.”

I take a step towards the door, but Fenrother holds on to me. “It’s too late,” he growls.

“No, it’s not,” I respond, but then I see he’s not paying any attention. He’s looking down the battlements at something else entirely.

I follow his gaze and nearly jump out of my skin when I find, for the first time since arriving, we are not alone.

A female Faerie is approaching us slowly along the battlements. Her large crystalline wings flicker from red to azure as she moves, and her flowing clothing, a mixture of whites and reds, seems to have a life of its own, waving in the opposite direction to the wind.

“Lambton Wyrm.” She addresses Fenrother in a voice which is part song and part cut glass. The tone is not friendly.

“Queen Mab,” he responds, his entire body tensed to what almost seems to be the point of breaking.

“I see you got my little gift,” she says as she approaches, her eyes not leaving him for an instant.

“Gift?” Fenrother queries.

“Your mate.”

“The Yeavering stone gave her to me,” he growls. “Not you.”

“On the contrary, Wyrm. I command the magic in the Yeavering, and I control the stone. She is mine to give and mine to take away.”

The growl Fenrother makes is entirely feral, and he pushes me behind him as far as he can on the narrow strip of stone.