Claimed by the Fae Lord by C.A. Worley

Author:C.A. Worley [Worley, C.A.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: C.A. Worley
Published: 2024-07-02T00:00:00+00:00

Twelve

Raina

The metal prong clicked against the buckle as I secured the leather bracer around my forearm. With practiced efficiency, my hands moved swiftly, fastening each strap.

Hmm, I hummed silently, eying the items laid out on the bed.

The king had been generous with the supplies, particularly the weapons. I was taking most of what he’d offered, but I didn’t need to carry all of it on my person at once.

Sliding the twin daggers into their sheaths at my waist, I debated carrying the extendable spear across my back. I was partial to spears and this exceptional instrument was the sexiest I’d ever seen.

Sleek and easy to wear, I admired its craftsmanship. The pewter-colored metal was unfamiliar but the king had assured me it was stronger than anything I’d carried before.

When all this was over, I might ask Nox about it. Once upon a time, long before I understood why my parents were appalled by my preposterous ambitions, I’d wanted to be a weaponsmith.

Not only had they been horrified, they’d forbidden me from ever mentioning it again. Of course I’d abandoned the very idea because I was always the dutiful daughter, especially when my years of life were still in the single digits.

Yet, the fascination had never left me.

I missed the private arsenal I’d left behind at Snowfall, weapons I’d earned or purchased on my own. I had been disappointed but not surprised when I learned from Nox that the manor’s armory had been emptied before his arrival.

It was trivial compared to the other atrocities committed there. The king thought I might be able to point a finger at the most likely culprit.

Regrettably, I couldn’t. When I’d last been home, everything had been as it always had been. Most importantly, Snowfall’s inhabitants had been alive.

My stomach lurched, followed by a cold dark need to avenge those poor unfortunate souls. Slow and painful deaths would be too light of a punishment for the bastards responsible.

“Focus forward," I reminded myself aloud, returning to my task.

A new pack lay open at the foot of my bed, containing garments suited for concealment and survival, a silent nod from Nox to life in Ephandor.

I especially appreciated the hood I could attach to the tunic to conceal my white-blonde hair. Hair that blended well with snow but stood out against the earth tones of Ephandor.

In less than an hour, Liam would portal us straight to his father’s residence. I wasn’t ready to face the Drótinn of Ephandor, even with his son right beside me.

Tying up the last of my packing was a good distraction, but the memory of last night's encounter hovered at the edge of my consciousness. Although close, it wasn’t close enough to distress my mood.

The desensitized feeling that had enveloped me in a protective layer of nothingness continued to linger. Though, it had waned slightly, and now I was experiencing a dull ache.

I couldn’t complain, though, not when I should have been shattered by the mistake I made last night.

A sharp rap at the door tore me from my thoughts.

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