Page 92 of Given to the Fae
I look away from him. Should I tell him everything? My lungs tighten at the thought and I force a small smile at the male witch who’s showing me his wares, an array of stones he swears have magickal properties.
I place a hand over my chest and rub in small circles as I try to alleviate the fear. Whenever anyone has found out, it hasn’t gone well and, regardless of the punishments fate dishes out, I’ve still suffered in the end. What if I reveal the truth to him and he tells the others and they begin to see how far they can push the Kismet, how much they can hurt the Fate Touched before something bad happens? Somehow these three fae’s betrayals would cut me more deeply than anything.
Gods, do I really care for them so much?
The stone I’m holding falls from my fingers and I mumble an apology to the white-eyed witch with the tiny lines carved into his skin as I back away. My stomach churns and my breathing quickens.
‘What is it?’ Jak asks me.
‘It’s nothing,’ I say, though I can barely hear myself over the roaring in my ears.
‘Come, let’s sit and have a meal,’ he says, taking my elbow and leading me away from the stalls to some tables which have been set up outside a tavern.
I’m urged to a chair and sit as the others do, looking down at the old wooden slats of the table.
A pint of ale is put in front of me and I drink it slowly. My breathing returns to normal by the time I’ve drunk half, though my head is now swimming a little and feels a bit muzzy.
When I look up, I find the three fae talking amongst themselves, but all of them are keeping an eye on me. Locke and Morgan get up, leaving Jak and I alone.
‘There’s something you’re not telling us,’ Jak murmurs after a moment, not looking at me. ‘I know there is.’
I don’t gainsay him.
I look at him. ‘It’s difficult,’ I whisper. ‘It gives you power over me.’
He looks rueful. ‘Don’t we already have that, Bryn?’ He looks into his cup. ‘Whether we want it, or not. The more I know, the better I can help.’
I know he’s right.
I watch him for a moment. He’s not hurt me, he’s not scared me or been cruel to me. If I were to choose someone to tell, it would be him above all others. Perhaps I’d count Morgan in that as well.
A pained cry from the next table interrupts my thoughts, and I see that a demon is standing beside it. He’s large and looks angry, and his eyes are predatory. With him is a short human male. I wouldn’t have thought him a bull. He’s too small to be considered for theprivilegeof seeding females, and the ones like him I’ve met have been quite docile, nice even.
The male’s demon master has smashed his large boot down on the human’s bare foot. He then makes the small man sit on the ground by the table, as all slaves must, and proceeds to order the human to grip the table edge. A small, sharp knife is produced, and the demon begins to caress the human’s flesh with it, making shallow cuts all over his fingers.
The slave bites his lip, his eyes leaking tears, which makes the demon grin callously.
‘Have you learned your lesson, you piece of filth? You don’t touch anything of mine with your dirty hands unless I tell you to.’
‘I understand, master,’ the male human whimpers.
‘I don’t think you do,’ the demon hisses back, taking the knife and jabbing it into the human’s hand. He squeals and the demon laughs.
‘Bryn.’
I look at Jak who’s been watching the scene as well.
‘There’s nothing you or I can do,’ he reminds me, though I see his grip on his cup is very tight.
‘You’re wrong,’ I say quietly and he gives me a questioning look. ‘You wanted to know the rest.’
I stand fluidly and move around the table. He won’t believe just my words anyway. He needs to see it with his own eyes.
‘What are you doing?’ Jak mutters in a warning tone.
‘Showing you.’
I move toward the table and pretend to stumble, bringing up my arms to stop myself from falling. By design, my hand covers the slave’s just as the blade comes down again, piercing my flesh deeply as well as the male’s beneath.
