Page 19 of Tempting the Fae Lord (The Gatekeeper’s Weakness)

Chapter Eighteen

The Gatekeeper

No way my gate would open for that meddling harpy!

And yet… Gale presents an unsettling possibility.

I cannot stay on this side when those under my protection on the other side might be in danger. But I cannot leave Petru unguarded, nor can I leave Gale on his own.

There is only one solution.

All three of us must pass through the gate so I can check on everyone.

I hate it. The mere thought of a death mage near my loved ones—those alive as well as those already passed—punches the air from my chest.

We leave the comfort of the inn, retrieve a confused Petru, and trudge our way north back to the abandoned forest dwelling of the Vartija.

I insist Gale and Petru stay back a distance, out of hearing range at least, while I open the gate—all the while scowling my disapproval at it ever having let Gale through, or worse, possibly Sonja.

If the gate has any opinion on my attitude, I can’t tell. It opens, same as always, and I usher our group through.

Icy wind embraces me in its prickling grip as I set foot on fae grounds. The energy and magic of the realm fill me up like monsoon rains in a creek bed. My fingertips tingle. I take a deep lungful of the air of my homeland and roll my neck.

Yes. This is where I belong. To the north. To Luminia. To the gate.

“Guide him,” I say to Gale, who nods. “I’m going to fly ahead.”

With that, I stretch my wings and take to the sky. It’s a short flight to the fortress, made even faster by my worry-fueled haste.

Everything looks the same from above, but I won’t breathe easily until I confirm my people are safe.

Inside, the halls are quiet. I stop, close my eyes, and listen closely. One by one, I count the pa-pup pa-pup of their heartbeats, matching each to its owner with the ease close familiarity makes possible.

Only when all are accounted for and there are no extras do I relax.

This doesn’t mean she wasn’t here or didn’t cross. It’s possible she came and went. I won’t know until I can speak with Eulayla and question the villagers, but I won’t wake them for that. No. Let everyone sleep.

Gale will share his room with Petru and keep an eye on him for me.

The rest can wait.

Within the walls of my home, so close to the comfort of my rooms, the weight of the last few weeks bears down on me. The exhaustion settles low in my gut, creeps deep inside my bones, and hangs heavily on each drooping eyelid.

I wait until I hear Gale and Petru enter and make their way to his room, wait until they settle down for sleep, wait until their breathing evens out with the onset of sleep. Then, on silent feet, I slip into his room.

I need to see him, to be sure he’s all right before I retire for the day.

Dark lashes fan perfect arcs on full cheeks. Messy hair halos his head on his pile of pillows. One hand rests over the covers on his stomach, fingers curled slightly. Beside him, Petru is a slender lump buried totally under the blankets, already snoring lightly.

I lean down and press a soft good-night kiss to Gale’s forehead.

As I’m backing away, his lids flutter open, and he whispers, “Again.”

I stare, blinking. Had he fooled me? Was he awake the whole time? He waits, lips parted. His tongue darts out to wet them. I could kiss him there.

He wants me to.

I want to.

But I shake my head, deny us both, and press another to his forehead instead. “Sweet dreams, Mooncalf.”

Knowing he’s safe within the walls of my fortress is enough for me. I retreat to my rooms and climb into bed, still thinking of his pretty mouth and what it would be like to kiss it.

I shouldn’t.

We shouldn’t.

It isn’t proper. He is a mortal and dependent on me for life and livelihood, while I’m a vampire with cursed royal blood running through ancient veins. He deserves more. Better.

I shove the uncomfortable truth aside and give myself over to sleep’s siren song.

Whatever trouble is brewing, I shall face it at dusk.

An itchy sensation crawls along my skin, waking me from the day’s slumber.

Something is wrong.

The air is too thin, my chambers are too quiet, and my magic is too agitated. I close my eyes and concentrate, using both my magic and my heightened senses to seek out the disturbance, but I can’t interpret what I find.

Though I can’t be sure, I suspect another’s magic might be at play. Her magic.

I fling myself out of bed and race down the stairs to hunt the source.

Gale’s door stands wide open, but his room is empty. At first glance, nothing looks amiss, but I won’t be relieved until I’m sure he’s unharmed.

I pass through the kitchen. There’s no sign of Eulayla, though the remnants of a large supper haunt the kitchen, scents of roast meat, dirty pots set to soak, leftover bread wrapped for another day on the counter.

All normal, nothing amiss.

Still no relief.

Up ahead, the sound of conversation drifts from the game room. I rush through the hall to get to them, eager to confirm their safety.

At the threshold, I peer inside.

Multiple heads turn.

Gale appears to be fine but looks at me wide-eyed. Amaris and Marissa sit across from each other over a game of Essin. Jack and Petru are similarly occupied with chess. Chester holds a drink in one hand and a pipe in the other. Eulayla arches her brows at me.

And in the middle of all of them—all of those I love more than life itself—sits Sonja on a cushion on the floor, leaning against the same lounge Eulaya rests on, a cup of tea next to her, embroidery in hand as if this is a perfectly normal thing to be doing.

In. My. Home.

She glances at me, mischief strutting through her silver-blue gaze, and sets her lips to a pouty little o.

I hold back the urge to throttle her bare-handed and grit out, “You’re not welcome here.”

Everyone talks at once.

Eulayla: “That’s no way to speak to a guest.”

Marissa: “But I like her.”

Petru: “She’s going to release me from my life debt.”

Gale: “Wait, don’t hurt her.”

Only Amaris appears to be on my side, lips drawn to a thin line, eyes narrowed and staring at the intruder with suspicion.

She’s a smart one, Amaris.

Sonja’s magic sweeps through the room like a summer storm, more intense than I ever felt from her on the other side. She’s stronger here. Strong enough to have hidden from me. More powerful in the fae realm.

But so am I.

“I will leave, if that’s what you wish,” she says, lying through her teeth. I don’t believe a word of it, not with her magic so thick in the air.

I scowl. “You’ve enchanted them.”

She doesn’t deny it, not quite. “Perhaps they naturally find me enchanting?”

“How dare you set foot in my home and use your magic on my people?”

Eulayla stands, blocking my line of sight to the harpy. “This is my home too, sir. And I’m ashamed you’d treat a traveler so poorly within our walls. What’s gotten into you?”

I cast her a stern look, but Eulayla doesn’t back down. Not her fault.

“I only used my magic to hide my presence from you,” says Sonja. “I wanted a chance to meet them. I can see why you protect them. Your people. They’re lovely.”

I grind my teeth.

She sets down her needlework. “Wouldn’t want anything to happen to them, would we?”

That’s a threat if I ever heard one, but the others don’t react to it as such. I stalk closer. “So, I’m to believe you’re here peacefully playing games and drinking tea with my staff?”

“Yes,” she says, voice firm.

Eulayla gestures to an open chair. “Why don’t you sit down and talk with us?”

I stride past her, grip Sonja by the elbow, and yank her to her feet. She yelps, and Gale barks a protest, but I ignore them. Let’s see what the harpy will resort to when I threaten right back. “You’re coming with me.”

“Sir.” Gale is on my heels as I march Sonja out of the game room. “You’ve got to let her explain.”

“Oh, I plan on it.” From the safety of my dungeon, where she belongs. What I’d like to do is drag her back through the gate kicking and screaming, but I can’t. The blasted portal let her through once. It could happen again.

“You could go about it with more kindness,” says Gale.

“Could I?” I drag her into the hallway. She isn’t protesting, but she isn’t helping either. And the glint in her glare gives me pause.

Gale huffs. “Come on, I was right about Petru, wasn’t I? He isn’t bad, and neither is she.”

“She’s spelled you.”

Her insidious magic circles him like a starving vulture, desperate for a kill. Arguing will help nothing. She’s ensnared him to her side.

Quick-moving footsteps ratchet the tension in my spine.

“Who’s there?” I call out.

“It’s Raglan from the village, Gatekeeper. I bring news.”

For maggot’s sake, what now?

“Come on then, let’s hear it.” I maintain an iron grip on Sonja’s elbow. I’m not about to let the lying enchantress out of my sight.

The villager clears his throat. “An outrider from the queen’s army has arrived at the inn and bid us deliver a message to Gale or, barring that, Eulayla.”

Why would the young queen be sending messages to them and not to me? For that matter, why is she sending messages to us at all?

“I’m Gale.” His face has gone suspiciously ashen. He gestures to Eulie, who has come out into the hall, no doubt to see for herself what all the fuss is about. “And this is Eulayla.”

“To them… only,” says the villager, eyeing me nervously. If he thinks for one second I’m leaving without hearing the message, he’s as wrong as shoes on a fish.

“Don’t be mad.” Gale sends me a sheepish look. “I can explain.”

I’ve heard that before.