Page 8 of The Fae Girl 1

“Ow. Get off me. What the hell are you doing?” I cried as though they hadn’t already hit me, as though my protests alone might stop this madness.

“Careful Sabri she might be a Magar.” The lankier one muttered.

“You think everyone’s a Magar. Look at her. She’s not a Magar.”

“She might be.” He insisted sniffing at me as if he could smell one. “Look at her hair. You ever seen hair that colour before?”

“Just tie her up.” Sabri replied.

“Blindfold her too…” The Lanky one said.

“You’re crazy. You’re all crazy.” I yelled, jerking more violently. Only it did no good. If anything it made them fight me harder.

“Alright blindfold her if it makes you happy but get a move on will you.” Sabri growled, his fingers digging painfully into my skin. “I want to get back before nightfall.”

“And gag her. If she’s a Magar we don’t want her casting any spells.” The lanky one reasoned.

“Fine. Let’s just get on with it.” Sabri agreed grabbing some fabric from his pocket and trying to ram it into my mouth. I snarled trying to bite his hand to stop him and he yelped pulling his fingers back but then he slapped me over the head so hard I saw stars and any fight I had left was lost.

Half dazed, they gagged me before tying my hands together and shoved a sack over my head. The fabric in my mouth threatened to choke me as I tried to push it out with my tongue.

But worse, so much worse, the panic I’d somehow staved off when Sebastian had attacked me was now erupting tenfold. Consuming me.

I screamed. I kicked out. Doing everything I could to get free but none of it made a difference. None of it helped.

Still fighting, they dragged me through the brambles and then threw me sideways onto the back of a horse like I was nothing more than a sack of potatoes.

Iwas pushed inside. My feet feeling the difference between cold outside stone and warmer tiles.

Hands gripped me so tightly I couldn’t move. And the gag in my mouth kept all my protests as nothing more than muffled noise.

But around me I sensed the bodies. The murmuring. It felt like I was surrounded.

“My Lord.” One of my three captors said. He was further from me, further into the space beyond.

“What is it?” A man replied quietly. As though he didn’t even need to raise his voice to be obeyed.

“There was an incident in the King’s woods. A trespasser.” The man said.

I heard the sound of clinking. Of cutlery being put down. Was he eating his dinner? The hood over my head kept everything but the musty smell of the fabric out.

“A Magar.” The man on my left, holding me, added loudly.

Deliberately it felt.

Like he wanted everyone to hear and react.

And the effect was instant, the panic immediate. I could feel everyone around me suddenly gasping, moving, as if I were so terrifying they needed to escape before I turned them all to stone. Whatever the hell this ‘Magar’ thing was, it clearly scared the shit out of them.

I snarled. Fighting once more to get free. And earned another smack for it.

“A Magar?” The Lord said not keeping the scepticism from his voice. “There hasn’t been a genuine Magar in this town for well over a decade.”

“Truth be told we don’t know my Lord.” The man in front of me said. “Could be. Could just be some peasant girl.”

“Well what are you waiting for? Bring her in.” The Lord ordered.

The hands holding me tightened more. I bit hard against the gag as they dragged me in and threw me onto my knees on the stone floor.

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