Page 52 of The Howling (Monsters of the Yeavering #2)

M y feet hurt, even in these boots which felt like clouds when I first put them on. We have been walking for hours through a landscape which is all but featureless grassland rolling away for miles.

I can feel the question on the tip of my tongue, but I am not going to ask it.

I am not.

Nope.

“Are we nearly there yet?”

Dammit.

Lilburn looks at me. She’s as fresh as a daisy. I feel like a sweaty mess. We’ve had one stop in the last I don’t know how many hours, where she doled out a tiny portion of bread and cheese. I feel like if we get to the fortress, I’m already done in.

“Over this hill,” she says.

“You said that last time,” I grumble as we toil up the hill.

“There,” Lilburn says as we crest it.

I’m not sure what I was expecting, but it isn’t the slab side of a black cliff, rising hundreds of feet in the air out of the surrounding grassland like a yawning maw.

“That’s it?”

“The Vindolanda fortress.” Lilburn nods.

“It’s not a fortress, it’s a cliff.”

“What we seek is inside,” she says.

I stare at the seemingly impenetrable wall of rock.

“There is absolutely no way we’re getting in there,” I grumble.

Lilburn continues to look towards the cliff before opening her mouth. The noise which comes out is something I hope to never hear again. When she finally stops and I uncover my ears, a small opening appears at the base of the cliff.

And out march the huge stone knights.

“Lilburn,” I gasp. “What have you done?”

“You wanted a way in. This is a way in.”

“I had hoped to be more subtle about it.”

“Why, when you’re handing yourself over to Lord Soulis?” she says, and disappears.

I release a stream of swear words at her nothingness.

“And don’t forget the plan.” Her voice comes out of the air, hollow and far away.

“Thanks, I don’t think.” I watch as the stone knights get closer and closer until I have to crane my neck to look up at them.

“You will come with us.” One of the grey, hairy, wizened creatures pops out from behind the front knight.

“Sure.” I stride past him and towards the cliff face.

There is a lot of clattering. My handing myself over has caused more concern than if I’d resisted. Priceless!

With the knights at my back, I enter a dark cavern filled with burning torches on the walls, and as the door cranks closed, the fun I originally felt drains a little.

“Take me to Lord Soulis,” I demand, attempting to inject some more confidence into the plan. “Tell him the mate of King Reavely is here.”

The entire place is crawling with the grey creatures, enough to make my skin crawl.

One of them beckons to me, and even though all my instincts say to stay away, I force my legs to move as he leads me through a dark passage, up a set of rough hewn steps, and out into a large gallery, this one lit by huge hanging candle chandeliers, the yellowing wax stalactites which hang from them indicating decades or even centuries of use.

The walls are still roughly cut, but the floor is polished to a mirror shine, reflecting the myriad of candlelight back up into the high vaults above.

As is usual with the Faerie, the room, vast though it is, has the vague smell of old socks. Kaitlyn once told me it was something to do with their magic, but I prefer to believe it’s because they are foul creatures who stink of old socks.

At the far end, a Faerie male stands next to an ornate gold table with a marble top. There’s a fireplace in which is burning a magical fire, the flames leaping blue and green. He doesn’t look up as I throw my shoulders back, and with a confidence I do not feel inside, I make my way to him.

“The human female you wanted, Lord Soulis,” the grey creature announces as we get closer, simpering as it does.

Lord Soulis, dressed in the usual long robes of the Faerie—his are cream with gold—has long white hair flowing down his back, and his large, translucent wings are on show.

Unusually, rather than the single appendages, rather like a dragon fly, he has four, two upper and two smaller lower ones.

He doesn’t look up. I feign boredom, putting one hand on a hip and gazing around me. Two can play this game as easily as one.

“I wasn’t expecting you to give up so easily,” he says eventually, breaking the silence and kicking out at the obsequious guard. It scuttles away. “Reivers,” he snorts, “only have one use.”

“In the Night Lands, to prolong your war?” I say, studying my nails.

“Who have you been talking to, my pretty?” Lord Soulis says, his too bright blue eyes raking over me, condescension dripping from every word.

I ignore him. “I’m here for Reavely.”

“And here I was thinking you were here for me,” he says without missing a beat.

“Release the Barghest and I’ll marry you,” I continue.

“What makes you think you have anything to bargain with, little human?” His fangs are out, his glamour slipping a little, revealing the demon within.

“This.” I pull out the Styne of Golorum and hold it as his eyes fix upon the glittering gem.

He reaches for it, but before I can pull away, his hand is jerked back as if by some invisible force.

“You wield it?” he says in hushed tones.

“Looks like that, doesn’t it?” I respond.

I have absolutely no idea what I’m doing, and if I don’t find out where Reavely is and come up with a new plan, this confidence I’m pretending I have is not going to go much further.

Which is when I hear the first snarl.

“Reavely!” I spin around to see a dark streak heading my way across the polished floor like a missile.

I feel the dagger at my throat and smell the evil breath of the Faerie Lord.

“Don’t move, human, or you will lose blood,” he says. “Tell the Barghest to back off and maybe we can talk.”