“I’m not entirely sure he knows what a dress is, let alone if I look good in one,” I reply. “He’s very strange.”
“He’s currently threatening my husband,” Joanna says happily, turning me left and right to inspect her work.
“Oh, shit! I’m sorry. Do you want me to get him to stop?” I ask in a rush.
“No, no.” She flaps a hand at me as she drops down to inspect the gown at my rear. “We’re used to Mister Linton’s ways.”
“He says he’s known you a long time, only he had no idea what your names were.”
“Doesn’t surprise me,” Joanna says, producing a pin cushion and proceeding to stab pins into the area around my waist with incredible precision. “He’s been through the wars. I mean, many of the monsters have, forced to fight by the Faerie, but the Bluecaps had it the worst. The Faerie took them by force to the Night Lands, enchanted them so they could not leave. There was no alternative but to fight or die.”
“I didn’t know…”
“Bluecaps are the most special of all the Yeavering’s monsters. On the one hand, they are stealthy, deadly assassins.” She shrugs, pulling out a needle and thread. “I mean, not all of them, of course. If pushed, they could turn their considerable abilities to watch and to track to such a task. But in the main, they were happy to live in their cave or mine lair, provide assistance to the local populace, and live quiet, peaceful lives.”
“Peace loving creatures who drink blood?” I find myself blurting out.
“In return for keeping the harvests bountiful and free of pests. What’s a drop of blood here and there?” Joanna smiles up at me, her mouth filled with pins. I’m amazed she can talk.
“How?”
“Their scales have incredible properties to improve soil, along with many other uses, when applied in the right way. It’show Mister Linton pays us, and we always look forward to his stay,” she says standing up and patting me on my rear. “There we go, perfect.”
“So Linton comes here, abuses you, and you look forward to it?”
“Oh, he has his foibles. But having a Bluecap around occasionally means we don’t get bothered by the Redcaps or any of the other Yeavering undesirables in the main. Plus, he’s really quite sweet when you get to know him.” Joanna stows her sewing kit back into her apron pocket. “Which of course you will, now you’re married.”
I look at her happy face, ruddy cheeks shining. She wants this for Linton and weirdly, I don’t want to disappoint her, given all the trouble she’s gone to.
“He’s…um…cute?” I suggest. “Sometimes.”
“Good marriages always take time.” She pats my arm. “Especially for a Yeavering monster. But it will work out, I can see it in your eyes. And it will do him a world of good to care for something other than himself.”
She bustles out of the room, leaving me with my jaw on the floor.
I can appreciate the fact that human/monster pairings are entirely possible in the Yeavering, but it’s the fact she is so damn sure I’m married to Linton which is slightly disconcerting.
Along with the apparent fact that all Bluecaps are assassins or at least have the skills to be.
But I have to admit, I’ve seen plenty in his face and demeanour which suggests he’s been subject to some considerable stress. The way he admitted he forgets…
I feel tears prickling at the back of my eyes. I’d do anything to be able to forget things which have happened in my past. I don’t blame him for cutting the horror out of his life.
The blood drinking is something I’m probably going to have to quiz him on further, given it seems it’s not so unusual in the Yeavering. I can’t fathom why he’d starve himself to the point of collapse.
Although, given he’s back to causing havoc in the inn, it would appear the few drops he took from me are enough fuel for the time being.
I sit down on the bed and contemplate the direction my life has taken which has led me to an inn in the middle of an unknown kingdom with a mothman for company.
Which is when the door crashes open and Linton stumbles through, his eyes redder than ever.
“Kaitlyn,” he slurs. “My wife.” And then he hits the floor with a thump for the second time this evening.
KAITLYN
Ilie in the bed and stare up at the rafters. Linton snores next to me, wings akimbo, legs spread out, taking up most of the bed.
Of course, Max apologised profusely for the state of my mothman. He had only offered Linton a small glass of fruit spirit to celebrate his marriage. Which as it turned out, so soon after feeding, was not a great mix, at least for Linton’s consciousness.
