Page 1 of My Fae Lady

One

Sylvan

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The thump that ripped me from my slumber echoed in my ears, an infernal heartbeat that wouldn’t quit. I stretched my arms out in the dark, feeling the coarse, hollowed-out bark of the old ash tree that concealed me.

The thumping continued, and I dragged my claws across the wood, my fair skin nearly luminescent—a stark contrast to the dark bark. I hoped the frightful sound would scare off the intruder. That usually did the job splendidly the few times a curious mortal dared to get too close. The immortal fae knew better.

There was a pause, just long enough to give me hope, then the knocking started up again, a small fist against the tree’s bark. The horrid thud, thud, thud echoed in my skull.

A growl slid out of my parched throat. I was uncertain how long I’d been asleep this time. Years certainly. Decades? Maybe.

“Be gone from me!” I shouted through the wood. The resonance of my own voice felt foreign in my tall ears, it’d been so long since I’d heard it last.

“I call upon you, Lord Scratch,” came the clear, firm, feminine shout. “Present yourself, my lord! You are needed most urgently!”

Scratch or Scratcher was a newer name of mine. It was what the humans heard when they came close to one of my trees, a warning of claws gouging wood. I used the noise to frighten children away so they didn’t trample the mushrooms or steal the berries, which I ate when I needed nourishment before returning to a state of charmed hibernation.

“What do you want with that old codger?” I shouted back.

“I wish to bargain with you, my lord.” It was faint, but there was a slight tremor in her voice this time. Whoever she was, she understood the seriousness of bargaining with the Unseelie fae.

I seized upon that tinge of fear and shoved open the wide door carved into the base of my tree, hurling myself outside to tower over her. It was near dusk, but even that faint purple light was too much for eyes grown accustomed to constant darkness. Vision blurry, all I could make out was a cloaked figure made of lumps and smudges. A light of some kind glowed dully at her feet. She stood just outside the ring of mushrooms that enclosed my tree.

I had meant to frighten her off, but my eyes watered, and immediately she shoved something into my hands. My fingers probed the object and identified it as a warm mug made of clay. I smelled herbs and citrus, and I brought it to my lips instinctively.

She’d given me good, well-brewed tea, sweetened with honey. I gulped at it, soothing my dry throat, letting rivulets of the drink slip out the corners of my lips and off my chin in my haste.

I shoved the cup at her. “More.”

My vision remained hazy. Shadows moved around her—her cloak, perhaps. She refilled my cup with something that looked like a ball of shade in her hand. I drank my fill and demanded another. I drank until the lumpy shade was dry.

“Lord Scratch,” she said, voice pleading now, “I’m in need of a binding bargain.”

I blinked at her, waiting eagerly for my eyes to adjust so I could make out the details of her finally. “You’ll get nothing for free. To request a bargain without first making an offer offends me.”

“Forgive me for not knowing your ways, my lord. What is it you want? I’m eager to trade, and my needs are pressing.”

How foolish of her to admit to such desperation, but humans allowed their needs to make them weak. The only need I had at present was for food and drink.

And revenge.

“Offer me your firstborn.” It wasn’t a serious request, but it was a decent way to gauge her earnestness.

“You . . . want a child? As a meal?” she guessed.

I scoffed. “Not to eat. I like children, but I couldn’t eat a whole one. I am always in need of a new servant, though.”

She glanced behind me at my tree. “A servant to put where, my lord? Could you even fit a child in there?”

I chuckled. “Children are small, are they not? Ideal for a tree-dweller like myself.”

Most tree homes were much larger than they looked beneath their roots. Mine was not, but mine was never supposed to be a house. It was supposed to be a tomb. I was simply much too stubborn to succumb to the old wounds on my back and die in a timely manner.

She shifted her weight from foot to foot, shuffling the underbrush and the loose leaves I was almost able to see now. Colors came to me more crisply. First, dull earth tones, then the reds and oranges of the glowing lantern at her feet. The vibrant shades of mahogany and autumn in her hair were next and most captivating.

Lastly, her eyes. A dark indigo gaze regarded me earnestly, though the rest of her remained a blurred mystery.