Page 6 of His Dark Delights
“Lilliana, but you can call me Lilly,” I finally sputtered. As much as I needed to back away, his delicate touch commanded me to remain in place. “And you, sir knight?”
“Knight?” A chuckle blurted from him before he snapped down to assess himself. Clearing his throat, he faced me again. “Yes, a knight. But you may call me Ren.”
“Ah, well, it’s lovely to make your acquaintance, Ren. I’m so thrilled that you’re alive.” I beamed at him, pouring my joy out into the space between us.
Ren blinked several times, as if facing the sun. His eyes dilated as he beheld me, and his next breath shuddered from him. “And I’m thankful a lady as lovely as yourself saved me, Lilliana.” His voice registered lower than before, suddenly husky and rich.
“Oh, please, think nothing of it. You see, it was the right thing to do. Life is sacred, and I wouldn’t leave anyone to suffer alone like that—” Millie nudged her nose into my back, pausing my nervous rambling. “And while I’m glad to see you awake, I must insist you continue resting. Your injuries were nearly fatal, sir.”
“While I’m eternally grateful for your tender care, Lilliana—”
“Lilly.”
“Lilly,” Gods, he smiled so brightly I nearly shielded my eyes, “But I promise I am feeling much restored to health. Loathe as I am to trouble you further. Might I request a change of clothes and some water to wash?”
My eyes bugged as he smoothed a hand over his bandage clad chest. “Yes, of course! I’ll run a bath and find something for you to wear.” Then I whirled on Millie. “Mind the others, please.”
Ren’s stare tracked my movement on the trek to the cabin. His gaze felt like a physical thing tickling the back of my neck. Thankfully, I hadn’t gone far, and he seemed not to struggle with his injuries on the return walk. A hundred questions bubbled on my tongue, but I wrangled them into submission. The knight needed a warm bath, clothes, and a hot meal. Not a flurry of questions from a farm girl starved for conversation.
An odd tension hung in the air when we entered my home. Ren remained at a respectable distance, yet his gaze lit every nerve ending in my body. I pretended not to notice him observing the cottage as if seeing it for the first time and watching me scurry into the small bathing room between the downstairs bedroom and the narrow stairs to the loft.
A noise caught in his throat when I pulled what remained of my father’s old clothes from a trunk. “Men’s clothes, yet I see no man here.” A shiver crept along my spine. “Are you perhaps… married?”
I shot upright, clutching the shirt. “No, I’m not married. These are my father’s clothes.”
“Ah, good to know.” Ren sounded almost relieved. “Is your father around? I’d like to thank him for the hospitality as well.”
A resurging darkness swelled within my chest and wound through my ribs. “He is not, no. My father died this past winter, sir.”
“I’m so sorry, Lilly. I didn’t mean to upset you. Forgive me, and please accept my condolences.” Ren stepped forward, inching closer as if he might reach out and soothe my grief. I held my breath, and my entire body went rigid. He paused, hand dropping as an unreadable expression flashed through his eyes.
“Thank you for the condolences, sir. The bath is ready. I’ll prepare dinner and check on your injuries when you’re done.” Each word darted through my lips as a needed distraction.
A mask void of emotion dropped over his handsome face before he nodded. He guarded his inner thoughts well, and maybe that was the training of a soldier or noble snapping into place. With that, I tucked tail and vanished. The door slammed shut a little too hard, and I cringed away from it. I remained on the other side, listening until I heard a faint rippling of water.
Content with Ren managing the bath on his own, I turned my attention to dinner. I had a hearty vegetable stew with fresh produce from the garden bubbling before my guest finished washing up, so I returned to the fresh air and my animals outside. As the fading sunlight painted the dome of the sky with varying shades of purple, red, orange and pink, I gathered my herd. The chickens returned to their roost, and Millie helped me guide the goats back into their pen.
The wobbly gate groaned in protest, nearly falling apart when I locked it.
A heavy sigh breached my lips as I nudged the unstable wooden post. I had the tools to fix it myself,but Father had always handled the farm’s upkeep while I tended the garden. I sorely regretted not paying more attention to his woodworking skills when I had the chance. My innate ability to help plants and flowers grow didn’t help me with the weathered decay on the farm. I spent twenty-three years thriving in the garden or meadow because they called to my biological nature.
Father knew of the powers my mother’s blood granted me and encouraged my use of them, despite it making me an outsider to the humans in the village. No matter how much they respected my father before my birth, they met my presence with suspicion and side-eyes. Humans were cautious around the fae. Tensions had always tentatively balanced on the precipice of peace and war. Now there was war, and we had a new king to thank.
With the Fairy Butcher sitting on the throne, part of me worried I might not be as safe on my farm anymore. Perhaps I’d be better off packing up and moving to a village far away where locals didn’t know my heritage. Thanks to Father’s half, I was passably human, save for the slight arch of my ears. Even that was hardly noticeable with the long waves of my hair covering them.
If no one saw me making flowers grow, there’d be no other way to know.
I stopped my thoughts there. The idea of leaving behind the only world I’d ever known made me feel like I was losing my father all over again. His death was too recent to imagine abandoning the home where he raised me, and we shared years of happy, comfortable memories.
And I couldn’t go to the fae for sanctuary. Regardlessof not knowing the location of the Fae Wild, I’d never met another one in my life after my mother left and never returned. All I had from her were odd ears, strawberry blonde hair, and strange knowledge in my heart that she loved me—in her own absent way. I felt it in the wind, and the flower petals on my skin. Without that, I might have lost myself in the despair of Father’s illness.
Then there was Ren.
The knight in my home said he was in my debt for saving his life, but if he served under the Fairy Butcher, I couldn’t trust him. He might already have the blood of my kind on his hands. If he had an ounce of training to hunt fairies, what were the chances he’d notice the traces of fae magic in my blood?
“Lilly?” Ren’s smooth baritone snatched me from my reverie.
A squeak of surprise lurched in my throat, and I jerked away from the unsteady post. I hadn’t realized I’d frozen with my hand on the busted gate.
