Lephas had already been a young lad when he'd heard about those girls being born... That made him feel old.
Haros grinned. “They grow up so fast. And fine too, apparently.”
“Don't you bloody start!” Lephas chastised.
“I'd never dream of it – Zelrus would cut off my balls if I dared. But you have to admit it too... Don't you agree she's a nice piece?”
“I didn't really notice,” Lephas lied, feeling his gut tighten.
It had been the only thing hehadnoticed. He'd barely been able to keep his eyes off her. Though he'd had plenty of experience with their male counterparts in battle, he had never really seen a female faerie up close before.
Her skin had been so pale and smooth, hair like spun gold.
Lephas shook himself; he just had to get her back to Zelrus. He was sure the infatuation would wear off. She was just so different from any woman he had ever seen.
“Come on, let's get her inside.” Lephas strode forwards.
At the door to the old cottage, Haros reached for the handle. Locked.
“Shall I do the honours?” He grinned at Lephas, who nodded.
With a small run up, Haros put his shoulder through the door. It flew violently off its hinges, showering him with cobwebs and debris. He coughed and swiped the dust away.
“It's grotty in here, but it's unoccupied and dry.” He turned to the group, beckoning them inside.
Lephas turned to Karn and motioned for him to stay at the door. The wolf was more than robust enough to sleep outside and he would be sure to alert them if anyone approached in the night. The animal sat and contently scratched his face with his back paw.
Lephas followed his men into the house.
Though demons were much stronger and hardier than faeries in cold conditions, Lephas could no longer feel his toes. He was looking forward to resting and warming up and he was sure the others were too. Though the journey they had made was not far in distance, the snow made it a gruelling task.
“Get to lighting a fire. You, bring the girl through here,” he instructed the soldier who was carrying the faerie and wandered through the living space to the back of the cottage where he was sure he would find a bedroom.
Opening a door revealed an old, mouldy, hay-stuffed mattress that had long since disintegrated around the rusty iron bed frame it had once sat proud upon. A mouse squeaked from somewhere nearby.
“This will do.” Lephas nodded and reached for the iron manacles that were attached to his belt. “Lay her down near the fireplace and I'll pop these on her, just in case she gets any ideas about escaping.”
The soldier let the girl slide off his shoulder. She didn't rouse but scowled and groaned.
“Though it looks like she won't be going anywhere soon.” Lephas sighed. He made quick work of attaching the manacles – one set around her impossibly small wrists and another around her ankles. “If there's any wooden furniture in the house, break it down. We'll use that as kindling. We won't find anything dry outside tonight.”
“Yes, sir.” The soldier hastily left the room, leaving Lephas and the faerie alone.
He took a moment to regard her in the privacy of the dark, gloomy bedroom. Her head wound had worsened; dark crimson streaked her skin and dried in clumps in her hair. Her pretty face was contorted into a pained frown.
Lephas reached out to smooth the hair from her face. The faerie sighed as he touched her and the commander startled, retracting his hand immediately. His heart pounded in his chest.
No, no, no – this was not good. Lephas jumped to his feet and dusted himself off. He strode quickly from the room and shut the door behind himself before he could glance back at her.
Despite being frozen from his arduous journey through the snow, Lephas felt the heat of embarrassment rising in his face. He cleared his throat and ran a hand over one of his horns thoughtfully.
Why did the most beautiful woman he had ever seen have to be a faerie? He glowered in the dark hallway. It was just his luck.
“Hey, Lephas!” Haros called out from the kitchen. Lephas took a deep breath to calm himself before going to meet his friend.
“What?” he asked, surveying the scene. Haros and one of the soldiers were cleaning off a small section of an old wooden kitchen table to lay their possessions on. Two of the others were dutifully smashing up any smaller wooden furniture for a fire.
“How is she?” Haros asked, unstrapping his sword from across his shoulder. He laid it out flat on the table.
