Stolen Mayfly Bride (Stolen Brides of the Fae) by Sarah K. L. Wilson
Author:Sarah K. L. Wilson [Wilson, Sarah K. L.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-06-24T16:00:00+00:00
A Game of Merrels
Vidar
I have fitted the small boat for my needs and set it to sail with only my magic needed to guide it. So much easier than sailing with other fae â each with his own dissipations and lusts that draw his heart from the task â and easier still than sailing with mortals and their constant physical needs.
Iâm surprised by how my heart leaps at the sight of stark black rock rising from the ashen sea.
Iâve come at dawn. I wonât waste a moment that might be spent here. I came for the answer, of course. The answer that I so desperately need. Not because Iâm obsessed with the woman in the cage. Not because sheâs haunted me for these decades. Just for the answer.
And her safety isnât why Iâve carefully backtracked and hidden and kept all my course carefully free of pursuit or the eyes of those who watch me. Itâs because I donât want to give up my advantage. Thatâs the only reason why.
The dawn is splitting the sky behind me as I approach. It is just as golden where it tears the silken grey clouds as any gift I might wish to give.
But though I sail with the speed of the east wind, when I arrive, she is not there. My heart seizes in my chest as if caught in an ice storm.
There is only an old man sitting on the steps of the black rock before a kindled fire, a mantle of black bear resting over his shoulders, and a gnarled staff in his hand. I tie up my boat and alight on the land, curious.
âWell met, stranger,â I say as I approach his fire. âA game of cards or merrels to entertain you on this night?â
He makes a ripping sound, and I am afraid he is tearing apart and shedding his mortal body right before me, like a snake shedding his skin. I freeze, horrified, but it is only a laugh. A rasping, old laugh.
âStranger, is it, fae lord? You name him stranger who showed you this very place?â
I feel my features set in ice, hard so they will not show the sudden pulse of my heart.
I do not like this.
I am still young among my kind â young enough that I have not seen for myself the passing of mortals and their mayfly lives. Now that it is upon me, I revile it. There is nothing so wrong as how this bearded mortal has aged and gnarled under the weight of the years Iâve felt so lightly.
âAnd a greater gift, I cannot imagine,â I say smoothly. âBut now here you sit, alone. Will you bargain for company?â
He laughs again. âI have all the company I need in the memories that haunt me. I have no need of yours. But perhaps we can come to an arrangement. Iâm about to fry sausages over this fire and I will share them and my story with you if you will share your games and whatever drink youâve brought with me.
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