Fae Nightmare by Sarah K. L. Wilson

Author:Sarah K. L. Wilson
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sarah K. L. Wilson
Published: 2020-03-13T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-One

If Scouvrel was here in my cage – still my prisoner and not my sort-of husband – I would have felt a lot more confident about this evening. Social interactions, trickery, negotiations, bargains – those were things he was good at. I probably could have struck a bargain with him to help me with this – whatever it was. Confrontation? Negotiation? Diplomacy?

If I was honest with myself, I wasn’t sure where this evening was about to go, only that I had no choice but to try to keep out of Sir Eckelmeyer’s bad books. I was only good at slash and hack and run. That was my skill set. But even if I was Scouvrel with all his tricks, even if I was willing to cut off an ear, that might not get me out of this tricky situation.

I stormed into town like a winter blizzard, glad I’d kept my boots on under the fancy shiny dress. It was too cold to be in a dress, even though it was only the beginning of winter, and already my fingers were losing feeling and my cheeks and ears were stinging before I’d made it to the town square.

My toes ached in my boots, but the cold was nothing compared to the fire that burned in my chest. I had children to save. I had a sister to stop. I had a purpose in life.

These knights would not take that from me.

Neither would the soldiers who clustered in a group of six around the edge of the town at the north road, a bonfire warming them as they watched for danger.

Neither would the citizens in their houses with windows lit while the streets stayed clear of all traffic except for soldiers carrying supplies and changing guard shifts or huddling around a fire on the street outside the barracks. I hoped my mother would get their children out safely.

Neither would the cluster of guards outside the entrance of Olen’s house who looked me up and down and frowned before opening the wide doors.

I scraped my boots off on the mat – after all, it was Heldra who would have to clean up the mud and none of this was her fault – and tromped into the house.

“This way,” Heldra said, hurrying up to me from one of the side rooms and gripping my upper arm a little too tight as she hustled me to a lit room I’d never been in. “You’re late.”

Her anxious gaze swept over me and her other hand gripped her fancy dress too hard. It was rosebud pink and had a voluminous skirt and the same small puffs at the top of the sleeves that mine did. Oddly, it seemed to suit her where it only looked ridiculous on me. I looked as if someone had dressed a buck in a fancy dinner gown.

“I’ll take that cage and that ... stick in your hands.”

I didn’t want to give them up.

“I’ll return them when you’re done,” she said, pleading. “If you bring them in there, Sir Eckelmeyer will just take them.

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