Page 20 of Tempting the Fae Lord (The Gatekeeper’s Weakness)
Chapter Nineteen
Gale
My head hurts.
Convincing Ezra to let us out of his sight is never going to work. Not with how charged up he is about Sonja being in the castle. He won’t even let her speak.
“Go ahead and tell me,” I say to the villager. “I’m going to tell the Gatekeeper whatever you say the moment you leave.”
Raglan darts his gaze from me to him and back. “You sure?”
“I’m sure.”
Rather than reciting some memorized message, he withdraws a letter from inside his cloak and hands it over.
“That will be all,” says Ezra.
Recognizing the dismissal for what it is, Raglan shrugs and leaves.
No bow. No “Thank you, sir.” Just a turn on his heel and a march back the way he came.
If Ezra cares, he doesn’t show it, but neither does he let up his hold on Sonja, not even a fraction.
If only he’d let her go. She hasn’t done anything wrong.
“Why is the queen’s messenger writing to you?” he asks.
The ache in my temples worsens. I shake my head to clear my thoughts and focus. “Erm, well, she’s writing back to me actually. I wrote to her first.”
“You what?” He casts me a stern look. “Why?”
“Wrote to her. To ask for help. You were gone. I was worried.”
“I don’t need any help.”
I fight the urge to roll my eyes. The villager might not have the proper respect for his lord, but I do. I won’t argue with him over it in front of everyone. Even when said lord is dead wrong. “Of course you don’t.”
I open the letter and read.
Dear Gale (Or perhaps Eulayla),
Let me first set your fears to rest. You may address me as Suvi, for that is what I prefer my friends call me, and I should like to make new friends out of you.
I’m glad you wrote to me. I happen to owe your master a favor, quite a large one in fact, though I doubt he’s keeping score.
My army rides for the north under the command of Captain Willow, and with them my personal mage, Farlowe, to help in whatever way we can. I only wish I could come myself, but Lemossin still needs me at present.
Good luck with whatever’s happening, and do write back when things settle down. Should you ever want to visit the capital city, you’ll find you’re most welcome.
Warm regards,
Your friend,
Suvi
I may or may not be staring at her lovely handwriting with my mouth hanging wide open like a buffoon.
The queen! Says I can call her friend!
“Well, what has she written?” asks Ezra with an inpatient scowl.
I hand him the letter, and as he reads it, his scowl deepens.
I’m stuck on one line in particular. “Why does the queen owe you a favor?”
Sonja ticks her head up at this, her shrewd eyes sparkling. Pretty eyes. Blue like the summer sky. I like her.
“She doesn’t,” says Ezra. “I helped install her as the new queen, but I didn’t do it for her. She owes me nothing.”
I rub my temples, trying to soothe the ache. “Then why did you do it?”
“Because it needed to be done, and she’s the right person for the job. What I don’t need, however, is the whole of her army knocking at my door.”
“I’m sure she didn’t send the whole of her army.”
“Semantics.” He eyes me with an irritated expression. “I don’t need a single one of them.”
“Erm. Sorry?” I’m not sorry, and I’m pretty sure he knows it.
I’m glad they came, even though Sonja is no longer a threat. I’m glad there are people we can count on for help, especially since we’re so far isolated from the rest of the realm this far north by the gate.
Eulayla takes Sonja’s free hand. “Come on now, sir. Let her go.”
A growl emanates from low in his throat, more animal than man. Sonja lets out a frightened whimper. The urge to comfort her overwhelms me.
“Please, sir,” I say. “You’re hurting her.”
He points a finger at my forehead. “And she is hurting you.”
I squint. What if he’s right? It does hurt to think. Confusion muddles my effort. “What?”
Amaris pokes her head out from the game room. “Why is everyone acting so weird?”
“Enough of this.” Ezra yanks Sonja to his side and marches them both toward the stairs.
I follow. “Sir, don’t.”
“Where are you taking me?” asks Sonja, voice fierce.
“To the dungeon, where you belong.”
“I’d think twice about that.”
“You’re lucky I’m not digging you a fresh grave, harpy.”
“Lucky.” She huffs a laugh and raises her voice. “Bone caller, come to me.”
Petru rounds the corner on stumbling feet.
“Tell him,” she orders.
The mage trembles. “But you said—”
“Tell him!”
I watch all this as though through a fog, waiting for things to become clear, but the cloud only thickens. The air grows teeth.
“Leave him out of this.” Ezra stops and swings her around to face him. “Tell me yourself.”
A wicked smile slashes her face. “You took me from my family. What’s to stop me from taking yours from you?”
“Over my fly-ridden corpse,” Ezra growls.
Rocking precariously on shaky legs, Petru lifts his gaze to meet Ezra’s. When his voice comes, it’s barely a whisper, but the effect it has on Ezra is as though he yelled it from the rooftops.
“I know about your cemetery.”
Breath catches in my throat. He wouldn’t dare! Not our family graveyard.
I think of all the evenings I’ve gazed out to the east tower to find a dark form hunched over on a stone bench, flowers in hand. The Gatekeeper. Paying respects to his dead. To his beloved. To those who came before me.
Before all of us.
A quiet fury flares in Ezra’s eyes. His stare hardens.
The air sweeps from the room, leaving behind only stagnant vapor. Each breath is like choking. Pressure builds under my ribs, fear prickles the short hairs of my neck, and magic snaps and fizzles around Ezra’s fingers.
“If she orders it…” Petru quakes but stands his ground. “You can’t stop me.”