“I am Varyth,” he said smoothly. “High Lord of Luceren, whether that means anything to you or not.”
I absorbed the information carefully, my fingers idly running along the worn hilt of my dagger.
“A High Lord,”I echoed, my voice measured. “Is that… like a king?”
A sneer tugged at his lips. “Don’t degrade me with your human comparisons.” With a roll of his eyes, he added, “But if your mind lacks the ability to understand, I suppose it’s closest to that.”
I frowned, processing his response, though his contempt left me with more questions than answers.
“And you,” he said, his gaze piercing. “How is it you came to be here?”
“We were being chased,” I said, my answer clipped. “By soldiers who would not stop until they captured us.”
“And what, exactly, did you do to invite such enthusiasm?”
A chill crept over me as I recalled the months of fear, of running. My family’s final moments flashed through my mind.
“The king of my lands is… cruel.” I chose my words with care. “He hunts those he deems a threat. As for me…” My throat tightened. “My family was once nobility. And to him, that makes us dangerous.”
“And if they had caught you?”
I forced myself to look at Varyth, even as the memories clawed at me. “The women.” I swallowed. “They’re sold.” Myvoice trembled, but I pushed through. “And the children… The children are sent to labour camps.”
As I spoke, I noticed a shadow cross Varyth’s face, a flash of something quick and raw, gone before I could place it.
“So,”Varyth said at last. “You ran. And when you had nowhere left to go, you crossed the Veil.”
A slow exhale left me before I nodded. “It was a last resort. A better alternative to death.”
“And yet.”His fingers tapped once against the arm of his chair. “Death remains a possibility here.”
A cold prickle traced down my spine.
I dug my fingers into the armrest, but there was nothing to hold onto. Nothing solid. The chair was soft. Too soft. Like it wanted to swallow me whole.
He leaned back, wings draped over the chair. “Unless you prove useful.”
I didn’t need to ask.
“I don’t expect favours, High Lord,” I said, “Just a chance to protect my children.”
His gaze swept over me. Searching for something I couldn’t see. Something I wasn’t sure I possessed.
Finally, he spoke, his tone cool. “Do you understand what you’ve done by crossing that border?”
“All I know are the stories of my people,” I said, “But yes, I knew.”
Varyth seemed on the verge of saying more. His mouth opened to continue, but he hesitated. He looked me over again, taking in the dirt, the scratches, the weariness. He sighed, the faintest crease of frustration appearing between his brows.
“Your wounds will heal faster here, as they do for all fae,” he sighed. “But even magic won’t cleanse the dirt and smell clinging to you now.”
I bristled, my exhaustion mingling with a surge of irritation. “Sorry I didn’t spritz on rosewater while fleeing for my life.”
A scoff escaped him, but his jaw tensed, forcing the amusement away.
“Step out that door,” he said, returning to detached formality. “You’ll be taken to your children. To a bath. A bed. Rest.”
“Thank you.” I inclined my head just slightly, acknowledging the strange mercy he offered, even if I couldn’t be sure of what lay behind it.
