Page 14 of The Longing

I have to admit, I did not.

“No mother, no father, no one,” Fenrother says, his voice low and dangerous. “Only me.”

Without a further word, he leaves the bedroom with a swish of tail and wings. He leaves the door open.

I am no longer locked up like the proverbial damsel. I’m free to roam. But I hesitate, turning his words over in my mind.

No mother, no father, no one.

Is he an orphan like me, only without the interfering aunt? Did he grow up in this empty castle alone?

I sit back in the window seat. Could any of this explain how utterly strange Fenrother is? I mean, he is basically a mythical creature who can change his form at will, so I have to expect and accept there are some differences. But nothing does well raised alone, even magical Wyrms.

If nothing else, at least I was sent away to school. At least I had peers around me who taught me right from wrong.

“I brought you food.”

Fenrother leans in the doorway, a pewter platter in his hand. He looks confused at his actions, first looking at the food, then at me, then poking at it with a claw.

I leave my position and walk over to him, finding my legs tangling in the big dress and having to wrestle it into submission. By the time I reach him, something akin to amusement briefly lights his face.

“You might want to wear garments, but I don’t think they want to wear you,” he says, shoving the platter at me.

“Thank you.” I look at what he’s brought. There’s a whole chicken on it (again), but also some apple slices, a chunk of orange cheese, and a piece of roughly cut bread. “I’m sorry I struck you earlier,” I say, looking up at him through my eyelashes. “I’m sorry about your parents.”

Surprise runs over Fenrother’s face, one which is rather handsome now I’ve got used to the scales and the horns. He haschiseled, fine cheekbones along with a solid, square jaw and full lips. His beaded hair is straggly but shiny, and he has, like so many Yeavering creatures, the pointed ears of the Faerie. I find myself wanting to touch them. But then I need to heed my own warnings about being asked first.

“Your actions are understandable. Even if the Yeavering stone gave you to me, I should consider your needs first,” he replies. “I should…ask you what you want.”

This seems like a strange concept for him and one which has appeared all too suddenly. From the Fenrother giving orders to the Wyrm handing me food and asking me what I want…could he have another agenda?

The whole idea of being his mate is still hanging over me, even if he didn’t try anything last night. Even though he promised there would be nothing unless I wanted it (although keeping his wandering hands to himself is something he needed reminding about).

I can’t imagine Fenrother going on a charm offensive. He’s probably the least charming male I’ve ever met.

He releases the platter into my grip, which I nearly drop because it’s so heavy, and he turns to leave.

“Have you eaten yet?” I ask.

Fenrother looks over his shoulder, one wing drooping.

“There’s too much here for me to eat on my own, if you want to share,” I say.

I have nowhere else to go. I have a Yeavering monster who has decided I belong to him, that I’m his mate. I am stuck here, but it doesn’t mean I have to be alone.

And the more I know about Fenrother, the more I have a chance of finding a way out of my predicament. That is being the wife to a Wyrm.

I carry the platter over to the window seat and put it down. Fenrother hesitates. I guess the lack of real trust goes both ways.He’s viewed me as a threat since he met me, as I have him. That isn’t going away with a bit of breakfast.

Finally, he walks over to where I’m sitting and settles opposite me within the thick walls. Picking up the chicken in one huge hand, he bites down with fangs straight out of a nightmare.

ALICE

Breakfast was uneventful. Fenrother wasn’t particularly forthcoming or talkative. In fact he seemed a little overwhelmed with my, admittedly terrible, efforts to converse with him. It meant he scurried off as soon as we were done, claiming he had things to attend to.

Turns out there is a way of repelling a Lambton Wyrm…small talk.

Hitching up my dress, I go exploring. The castle is large, but given it’s on a square, it’s not too difficult to find my way around. I find the stairs from yesterday and wind my way up, hoping to get to the battlements above, to have a look at the Yeavering in daylight and not from between the claws of a Wyrm.

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