Tales of a Monstrous Heart: The hauntingly beautiful, slow burn Gothic Romantasy inspired by Jane Eyre by Jennifer Delaney

Author:Jennifer Delaney [Delaney, Jennifer]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Orion
Published: 2024-08-29T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Three

There was a high-pitched ringing in my ears, temples pounding with spell withdrawal, tongue dry and stuck to the roof of my mouth. Everything sounded muffled, as if my head was submerged in water.

‘Kat !’ someone called beside me, making me flinch away from the sound. Even the slightest movement hurt. It was William, calling my name.

‘Shhh,’ I hissed, opening my eyes, trying to blink the spots from my vision. ‘I’m awake, William.’

‘Thank the ancestors.’

I blinked the murkiness from my vision realising I wasn’t face down in the dirt of that forest. No. We were both sitting on what appeared to be dining chairs, hands bound in our laps. William was covered in dirt, twigs stuck in his hair and tangled around his horns. His cloak was missing and his shirt torn, face horridly pale with worry and pain.

We were in a large room with sparce bookshelves, a piano and a seating area before a flaring hearth.

The horrid sweetness of saints’ oil and incense was thick in the air. I straightened instantly, sensing a threat in the mere presence of such things.

Glass cases were spaced about, as if holding great works of art, but inside they were littered with war artefacts – tapestries and weapons used by various fey tribes, trophies of conquest.

A collection of beautiful ball masks was pinned to the far wall, their ribbons vibrant and intricately embroidered, but the masks themselves were dull and cracked. Fey flesh that had begun to peel and decay with time. Masks the King would commission for his balls.

Repulsed, I turned to the large marble fireplace, only to see the head of a valek mounted on the wall, its beak wide open in an eternal scream of torment.

Maybe this was a nightmare after all. I remembered the caymor, the smoke incantation and the dark coldness of the pit.

I’d allowed them to catch me once more.

‘Don’t worry about a thing. I’ll do the talking.’ William dragged in a deep, pained breath. ‘Emrys will be here shortly. He has a habit of turning up when you need him.’

Emrys.

My heart sank to the pit of my stomach at his name. Emrys was a mortal man of flesh and blood and not some form of wish-granting spectre who turned up unannounced. No matter how many times he had done it to me recently.

No, we were on our own and in trouble from the look of the two men stood across from us in crisp liveries. Thankfully not Council hunters or guards, they rented out their services to lords who had issues with fey.

‘Listen, gentlemen, there has been a terrible misunderstanding,’ William began, his smile nervous, as a mere movement made him wince with pain.

‘I’m sure there has,’ came a cold voice from behind us in response.

A tall, heavyset blond man walked into view. A mere click of his fingers sent our guards away as he stood before us. He had the presence of a lord, but there was nothing remotely attractive or interesting about him. He was ruddy cheeked and wearing a coat that stretched over his bloated belly.

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