Page 54 of The Longing

Absolutely zero manners. I should be wanting to fall through the floor with embarrassment, but I rather like his no fucks given approach, especially when everything in this hall is designed to intimidate.

Fenrother is not intimidated, and when he offers me half a bread loaf, I take it, nibble at it, because my stomach is filled with butterflies like the ones we saw outside, and then I put it back.

The liberation is like downing half a bottle of wine. My head spins with it, with the freedom of not giving a shit.

“Wyrm!” The voice wants to be commanding, but Fenrother isn’t interested, and he isn’t responding.

I want to risk a peep but instead stick close to my Wyrm, waiting to see what he will do. Pissing off a Faerie is not usually advised, but apparently, this memo hasn’t reached Fenrother.

“Wyrm!” The voice is a little more insistent, a little more on edge. “Fenrother!” it finally grinds out.

Fenrother turns, licking at a sticky bun which he slowly and carefully puts back on the platter behind him. It takes nearly every atom in my body not to laugh at his clear and calculated action.

But any laughter I might have had drains away when I see the Faerie sat on his ridiculous throne glaring down at us.

Thin, pale to the point of vampire, with long, greasy black hair falling either side of his pointed ears, Lord Guyzance is the very definition of deadly.

And we’re in his sights.

FENROTHER

Ido not like the food the Faerie lord has set out. Most of it tastes of the magic which was used to create it, not even the meat is fresh. As usual, the lord wishes for us to see his power, but if it consists of making food badly from magic, rather than having hunters bring it to you from the lands, it shows no power at all.

I eat because if I don’t do something with my mate at my side, there will be violence. All the male Faerie are looking at her and Alice belongs to me.

She is my mate.

They cannot look and they cannot covet. Which is why I do not respond to Lord Guyzance until he uses my name.

I am not a faceless creature of the Night Lands. I fought there, until my fight was done. I returned when countless have not.

I am mated.

I also dislike the fact Guyzance has prisoners and there is an assassin included in his court. None of these things are palatable. Rather like his food.

“What do you want?” I say slowly, taking the steps up to his throne.

Guyzance’s Redcap guards move forward, but he holds up his hand in a louche movement to stall them.

“Fenrother.” Alice pulls at my wing.

I pull her into my arm, inhaling her scent and wrinkling my nose at the bitter fear which tinges her usually delicious flavour.

“Don’t worry, I won’t eat Lord Guyzance,” I tell her. “Faerie are unpleasantly crunchy.”

I’d like to kiss her. I’d like to scent the garment I have in my pocket. But I do not wish to do either of these things with a Faerie lord close by.

Lord Guyzance sits back on his throne with a disgruntled huff of air.

“You come to my kingdom and you want to know why I summoned you here.”

“I am not in Wyrm form,” I respond. “My mate wishes to see the Yeavering and this is part of it.” I shrug.

“You are treading a fine line, Fenrother. You know how the Yeavering perceives you.”

“I know the Faerie consider me their servant, which is far from the truth, as well they know.”

Lord Guyzance leans forward. “You should be grateful for our patronage, Fenrother.”

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