Page 24 of Faeling (Monstrous World #4)

Vallek hadn’t pushed his men so hard in a long while. The berserkers were too well trained to complain, but Mattias insisted they rest rather than making the last push to Toksfinge that second evening.

From one rise over, they could just spot the seaside town.

Nothing seemed amiss; no houses destroyed or ablaze, no townsfolk fleeing south.

About two leagues northwest, bobbing in the shallow waters of the bay, was a fae ship.

All elegant lines, its white sail was stowed, and the chain of an anchor glinted in the late-afternoon sun.

Without an obvious threat to meet, Vallek agreed. His warriors were given their rest while Ulrich and two volunteers were sent ahead to Toksfinge to procure more information.

They returned in time for the evening meal, bringing with them strange tidings.

“The town elders welcome you, my king,” Ulrich reported. “They are anxious to be rid of the fae interlopers. When they first arrived, the fae captain demanded to speak with the highest ranking representative they could find.”

“So there’s been no violence?” Vallek asked. Strange .

“Not yet. Although, they have chased any fishing boat trying to sail the bay back into town. They refuse to leave until they speak with someone.”

“Well, then. I suppose it’s good we’ve arrived to hear what they have to say.”

Vallek lay down that night with uneasiness as a bedfellow. It was more than just the uncomfortable ground beneath his head—much as he enjoyed his comforts, he could run rough with his berserkers if needed. No, he spent most of the night trying to divine the stars.

What could the fae want? It wasn’t unprecedented for them to send a delegation to Balmirra or even Kaldebrak when they truly wanted something.

Holding a village hostage was just a petty play at power. Their queen was known to enjoy such games, flexing her might.

And Vallek had literally come running. At their behest, it would seem to them.

Should’ve asked her what they wanted. If he’d thought about this for half a moment, he might’ve done the smarter thing and asked his own mate gifted with foresight if she had any information to elucidate the strangeness.

Vallek knew better than to rely solely on Ravenna’s visions, of course.

He’d been building his unification far longer than he’d known her, even as a soothsayer.

Still, a wise king was one who went into every situation with as much information as possible.

Kings who ran headlong into the unknown didn’t long hold their thrones.

There was nothing for it now but to arrive tomorrow rested and sharp.

At least, that was the smart thing. His unhappy beast had far different ideas.

Its plan was to sink the fae ship and run home as fast as possible. Back to her .

For more sneers and nonanswers.

His beast sighed at the thought, smitten. The pathetic thing.

Every step away from her had brought a fresh wave of agony.

His body tore itself apart with wanting to turn back.

The ache was worse than recovering from a broken limb, the itch was worse than the reddest rash.

His need for her bristled under his skin, frustrating him that the bond had already begun to take root.

No matter that they’d only really spent a few days in each other’s company and most of it had been arguing.

Even memories of having her in his arms, his hand clutching her cunt, were tainted by her reaction. The most natural thing in the world—bringing his own mate pleasure—felt wrong. He hated that most of all.

Between the beast in his chest and the fae camping along his bay, Vallek doubted he’d get any sleep that night.

His beast, monstrously unhappy with him, agreed.

It didn’t take long for the berserkers to sense his foul mood the next day. Even Ulrich gave up trying to coax him into conversation. Vallek didn’t want to hear it. Get this done and get home.

The troops rallied early, ready to march not long after dawn. As they descended the slope toward the shoreline, Vallek split his forces, sending half to form a perimeter around Toksfinge while the others followed him to confront the fae camp.

Pebbles ground beneath their heavy feet, and Vallek watched as a half-dozen fae rose from logs they’d set around a central fire. He pulled Hormhím free of his belt, holding the axe loose but ready in his grip.

The fae fell fluidly into formation, fanning out behind a tall male who took the lead.

Hair the color of starlight, he was formidable but would’ve been more so had he any meat on his bones.

Concave cheeks and sunken sockets gave the impression of a walking corpse.

Black veins were just visible beneath his thin, gray-white skin.

The fae’s leader stared at Vallek with irises of a dull gold, set within eerie black sclera. His lips were tinged blue and ringed in a line of black, and it was a ghoulish sight to see them lift into something between a smirk and a smile.

Vallek stepped forward with just Ulrich and Mattias at his side. A show they were willing to talk—and that they weren’t afraid to meet six fae in battle just the three of them.

“Has someone important come to greet us finally?” the fae asked in accented orcish.

“Mind your tone,” Vallek warned in perfect faethling. “You speak to a king.”

To his credit, the fae warrior’s brows lifted in surprise. Glancing over Vallek’s shoulder at the neat columns of berserkers, all armed and armored, the ball of the fae’s throat bobbed as he swallowed hard.

The fae bowed his head—not much, just enough to show respect—and the others repeated his gesture.

“Forgive my impudence,” said the fae. “We come not as enemies but friends.”

“I will be the one who decides that,” Vallek replied, switching back to his native tongue.

“We have been sent by our queen, Amaranthe the Pure, to warn you. A dangerous criminal is believed to be in your territories.”

“Indeed. And what has he done?”

“ She has committed treason and sown sedition. She’s a halfling mongrel, born of a human whore. Our queen seeks to bring her to justice, and should you help her in this, she is willing to renegotiate the terms of the Treaty of Spearhead.”

Shit .

Vallek heard Ulrich’s sharp intake. Such an offer was more than tempting—the treaty, signed by Amaranthe with the Balmirran chief some two-hundred years ago, created the current although tenuous borders between the faelands and orcish territories.

One town along the northern border, Kavala, had been designated as a trading post between the two peoples, but otherwise, contact was limited.

To avoid losing more warriors, the previous chief had agreed to pay hefty taxes on any orcish ships caught sailing on the northern side of the bay, as well as those coming in and out of the estuary to the sea, bound for Balmirra or Kaldebrak.

Great shipments of iron and copper were sent to Kavala for the price of a few bolts of silk—less trade and more tribute.

Although not exactly burdensome given the wealth of minerals and iron ore within the Griegens, the treaty had always been unpopular. To do away with it, to keep their iron or trade it for far more, was a prospect no king would turn away from.

“Your queen must want her badly.”

“Indeed she does. This halfling is dangerous.” Raising his voice, the fae added, “To the one who turns her in—be they fae, orc, human, or otherwise—Queen Amaranthe will reward them with their weight in gold.”

Vallek bit down on the growl building within his chest. By the All-Mother, what had his hellion gotten herself into?

Perhaps it’s not her. There had to be more than one halfling fae woman in the world.

But what were the odds that one would be just where the Fae Queen thought she was?

Shit .

“What makes you think she’s in my lands?”

“Extensive searches have been carried out in the north. She isn’t there. That leaves the south.”

It was flimsy reasoning by Vallek’s estimation, but that mattered much less when he knew such a creature was lounging this very moment in his quarters, no doubt plotting some sort of mischief. The thought of Ravenna only set his beast to growling more fiercely.

Take them, rip them, destroy them.

Even if she wasn’t the one Queen Amaranthe sought, these fae were still a danger to his mate.

Starting a war would endanger her even more, however.

The fae leader extended his arm to indicate the wider Dyfan Bay. “We ask permission to sail your waters, to warn your good people of the danger. And the reward.”

“No.”

The denial came swifter than an arrow, stunning the fae as surely as a true attack.

Ulrich shifted behind him, his displeasure pressing against Vallek’s back.

“ I will inform my people. You will return to yours, as per the terms of the treaty.” Just as orcs weren’t to be in the northern bay—at least not without paying taxes—so too were fae meant to avoid the southern waters.

The fae’s lips thinned. “I see. The Queen would prefer it if all orcs were looking for the halfling.”

“And I would prefer it if the Queen didn’t let dangerous criminals escape into my lands.”

Offended, the fae warriors scowled, looking between themselves. They wouldn’t do anything, not with the numbers as they were, but Vallek still eyed them warily.

“I grant you safe passage across the bay. You may tell your queen that her warning has been heeded.”

The fae tried a little more cajoling, promising more riches, more towns open to trade, but Vallek held. When they finally realized they would get nothing more from him, the fae leader snorted.

“Very well. Thank you for your time, orc king.”

He merely nodded, not rising to their bait. If they truly didn’t know his name, then they were poorly trained emissaries. If they thought slights would get them what promises hadn’t, then they were stupid emissaries.

Two fae kept their attention on Vallek as the others gathered their things. Then, as a unit, the fae trudged into the water to board their ship.

Vallek stood silent watch to ensure the threat left his shores.

He would leave a contingent behind to make safe the village and ease the minds of the town elders. A scouting team would be sent along the coast to watch the ship and confirm that they sailed back to the faelands. The rest would run with him back to Balmirra once they lost sight of the ship.

All-Mother, who is it my beast has chosen?

Ulrich came to stand beside him, his gaze contemplative as he watched the fae make ready their ship. Vallek knew what Ulrich thought, and his beast began to growl seeing his own second considering the fae’s offer.

“My king—”

“ Silence, ” Vallek hissed. His beast roared in his ears, and he was sure it showed in the furious look he threw Ulrich. “You will say nothing .”

Ulrich’s mouth fell open, a frown darkening his brow. Vallek had never spoken at him in anger before. Perhaps later he would feel remorse for treating his oldest friend so poorly, but right now, he cared far more about the possible threat to his faeling mate.

His second’s eyes flitted past him, to the fae wading around their boat.

“Look at them again and I will have your eyes,” Vallek growled. “Speak her name to them and I’ll have your tongue.”

Ulrich and Mattias looked at him like he’d lost his mind, and perhaps he had. Snapping and snarling, he felt unhinged, the need to return to his mate, to protect her with the strength of his own arm, a need more acute than taking his next breath.

“It could be her, ” Ulrich whispered urgently.

Vallek peeled back his upper lip. “So what if it is? The fae are enemies, as you always claim.”

Ulrich soured. “Then what does that make her?”

“My mate .” Vallek’s growl was so deep, it nearly garbled the words, but Ulrich heard. “A threat to her is a threat to me. Do you understand?”

When his second didn’t immediately answer, Vallek lashed quicker than a snake to grab hold of the gorget round his neck. With one move, he could snap the medal from Ulrich’s chest. Take away his position.

“Do you understand, lord commander?”

“Yes,” he hissed, a deep anger burning in his gaze.

A hand at his shoulder finally made Vallek relent, and when he stepped back, Mattias put himself between them.

“They no doubt aren’t to be trusted,” Mattias placated. “But perhaps I should know what the hells is going on?”