Armored Hearts by Melissa Turner Lee

dreams of hidden archers and Jessamine in his arms, heading for the ceiling.

Chapter 8

    Gareth sat at his wing chair. He had asked to take his breakfast in his room. After his restless four hours of sleep, he had no interest in seeing the Kellers or Grandfather. And there was still the archer at large. It might be safer for everyone if the assassin didn’t find them in the same room with him, if the assassin knew he was the Flying Knight.
    Sarah brought up Gareth’s tray and placed it on his desk next to the wing chair.
    “Mornin’ sir. Ye look a bit frazzled fer so early. Ye na be hurt or feelin’ unwell I hope.” She eyed Gareth up and down as if seeking out an ailment.
    “No, I’m fine. Just tired.”
    “Happy to hear it.” She nodded and opened the tray and butter dish before pouring tea. She winced and supported her arm with the other. A bandage wrapped around her forearm.
    “What’s wrong with your arm?”
    Sarah glanced down at the bandage. A strange look came over her before she answered. “Oh, clumsy me. I burnt it whilst cookin’ this mornin’. I put some butter on it before wrappin’ it up.”
    Sarah turned to leave, but Gareth stopped her. “Sarah, you and Thompton are from Scotland. So was my mother.”
    The ginger-haired woman turned with a grin. “Really? Lord Pensees didna mention that.”
    “Not surprising. My father came home from a holiday with a wife who had no family connections. It wasn’t Grandfather’s proudest moment.”
    Sarah nodded. “Oh.”
    “But I don’t know anything about Scotland or my mother’s family.”
    Sarah clapped her hands. “Scotland is beautiful. Especially the highlands where I’m from. The woods there be deep and full of magical creatures.”
    “What kinds of creatures?”
    “Oh, fairies. They live beyond the wooded curtain which can only be opened to one of their clan.”
    Gareth scrunched his forehead. “Fairies? You mean the tiny people with wings?”
    Sarah shook her head. “Na, yer thinkin’ of pixies. They be distant cousins of the Fae folk. Fairies be the size of humans, but they do’na fly with wings. They fly by fairy magic. It hits on the eve of adulthood.”
    Gareth narrowed his eyes. “Like around twelve years?”
    Sarah nodded. “Aye, ’bout then. God wouldna be so daft as to stick a mother with the responsibility of a flying baby.”
    “And the magic, can it do anything besides make them fly?”
    “Different Fae folk have different gifts. Some can only fly. Some are changelings and can take the form of other people or animals at will. Some are healers. But those are always women of noble birth. And there be the Seelie and Unseelie courts.” Sarah’s face took on a distant, despondent look.
    “What’s the difference?”
    Sarah started busying herself with putting Gareth’s bed to right as she spoke. “The Seelie be a loving clan. They find nourishment in love and family. They sicken among the land of men, where selfishness and hate rule. They stick to the deep wood, far from all that. The Unseelie tend to na be so organized. They feed off anger and resentment. They make a home among the worst of humans where they grow strong. But because of their very nature of animosity and discord, they be na able to gain strength as a court.”
    Gareth’s brow furrowed as he listened. “Are the two courts enemies?”
    Sarah nodded. “Aye, but the problem comes when a Seelie becomes Unseelie. All that need happen is to allow bitterness to take root. Unseelies almost never become Seelies, because once the bitterness takes root, it corrupts the soul. It’s na impossible to go back, but ’tis a very hard road.”
    Gareth was about to ask another question when a knock sounded on his chamber door. Grandfather stepped in.
    “Sarah, do you know where I can find Thompton? I need a carriage ready but he’s not in the stable.”
    A forlorn look swept over her face. “Nay, sir. I’m sorry. I have na seen him this mornin’. I’ll go see if