Page 69

ALICE

T he moth-man, or Bluecap, Linton, lurks in the shadows of the great hall.

I won’t lie—he makes me feel incredibly uncomfortable with his red eyes and velvet wings.

Moving so silently he seems to be the master of the jumpscare.

As for the shaggy Barghest, he might exude a level of violence I didn’t think possible.

He paces, his dark fur seemingly pulling in the light.

No wonder people believe he is a harbinger of death as Fenrother has told me.

“What do you mean you haven’t seen the Brag?” Fenrother growls, putting himself between me and the other two.

“Not since the battle at Faerie hills,” Linton says, his voice dark and soft like a dagger in a velvet case.

He is truly terrifying.

“I was too…busy.” The Barghest, Reavely, growls, heading towards the fire in the great hall, his claws clacking on the stone surface.

“Killing Faerie,” he adds, as if that’s necessary.

Fenrother is as big as he can be without changing into his Wyrm form.

I get the impression he’s grateful to these two monsters for their help, but he’d very much rather they were not in our castle.

Reavely snatches a chicken from the spit and consumes it noisily, and possibly messier than Fenrother, which I hadn’t thought possible.

“The last I saw of him, he was going back into the flames,” Linton says, emerging into the sunlight from the stained glass window.

He blinks as if he dislikes it but then slightly opens his wings, as if warming them.

These two, along with Warden, have to be the strangest creatures I’ve come across yet.

“He went back into the fire?” Fenrother growls.

“He wanted his revenge on the Faerie.” Reavely shrugs, wiping grease from his muzzle.

“He either got it or he didn’t.”

Fenrother growls under his breath.

For all he said he doesn’t have friends, this motley collection of creatures seems to be close enough to him.

Close enough he’s let them into the castle and offered them food.

Something Reavely is taking full advantage of.

“What about the Shellycoat?” Linton asks.

“What Shellycoat?” Fenrother growls.

“Those things are worse trouble than you lot put together. They side with the Faerie most of the time.”

“That’s because they get their powers from eating them,” Reavely says with his mouth full.

“Not that I’d trust them any more than I trust a Bluecap.” He looks over at Linton.

“No offence.”

“Offence taken,” Linton growls, his red eyes glowing.

I’ve finally put my finger on what he reminds me of—a vampire, all red glowing eyes, long cloak, and fangs.

No wonder the Bluecap scares me, and from what Fenrother has told me, I’ve every right to be scared of the brutal assassins who kill without compunction.

But despite their fearsome appearances, all three monsters are concerned about the disappearance of Warden, the big, burly centaur.

“Um...” I push through from behind Fenrother’s wings.

He lets rip with an impressive snarl when Linton and Reavely look at me.

“Why don’t you ask Meg? She might know something.”

“Warden can look after himself,” Reavely grumbles, clearly affronted by Fenrother’s attitude.

“I’m not going to Meg for anything.”

Neither he nor Linton can take their eyes off me, and I’m beginning to wonder if any of the monsters of the Yeavering have seen a female other than a witch or a Faerie.

“He managed all that time in the Night Lands,” Linton says.

“He even escaped the clutches of the Reivers who would have taken his soul.” He shakes his head.

“He was never the same after that.”

Fenrother huffs.

“Warden’s burden.”

“What is that?” I ask.

“Warden was the enforcer for a Faerie lord. When he lost his mate, he asked to go to the Night Lands, hoping to die there,” Linton says.

“But his curse is he cannot die, for all he wants to, and it’s turned his mind.”

Reavely laughs, a deep, dark sound I’m not sure I want to hear again.

Ever.

“Thank you for your hospitality, Wyrm,” he says, stretching out his limbs, “but I have an appointment in Ashwinton to terrify some locals, and I can’t be late.”

I look around for Linton, but the assassin has already gone, or at least I hope he has.

“It’s been a blast…literally, Fenrother.” Reavely looks at his singed tail.

“Don’t ask me for help again.”

“Wouldn’t even consider it.” Fenrother bares his teeth.

“Keep away from my lands and my mate.”

Reavely shakes his head as he stalks past us.

“Can’t believe you’re mated,” he says.

“Perhaps there’s hope for us all yet.”

The great hall seems a bigger place now the monsters have vacated, and Fenrother gathers me into his arms.

“Do you think Warden is okay?” I ask him.

“He did help you, after all.”

“The chances of Warden being okay are limited. He has a death wish that cannot be fulfilled,” Fenrother says with a hint of sadness in his voice.

“But he will have escaped the flames, of that I have no doubt.” He shoves his face into my hair and there’s a suction as he breathes me in.

“I can only hope one day, he finally feels contentment as I do. Because I have you, my , and I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”

“Same goes for me, Fenrother.” I cuddle a little closer to my big, bad Wyrm.

“You make me whole.”