“What for?”
The housekeeper looks over as we walk down the hall. “You cannot go around in that tattered gown.”
I glance down at my blue and gold dress. Before yesterday, it was one of my favorites, but there is no fixing the snags and small tears in the fabric. The damage has been done.
“I apologize for coming with so little,” I say. “It wasn’t my intention.”
I suppose the money for the clothing will come out of my pay, and it will take that much longer to earn what’s needed for new supplies.
As we walk, the two women who came into the foyer when I arrived yesterday pause in the hall ahead, their curious eyes latched onto us. They’re both beautiful, likely dangerous as well, considering their lineage. Judging from their long, black dresses and crisp white aprons edged with ruffles, they are housemaids.
They whisper to each other as they watch me, and the one with the loose, black hair and porcelain skin smirks at something her companion says.
For the first time in my life, I feel vulnerable—like I’m an ugly duckling dressed in rags, begging the master of the house for the scraps of his goodwill. I never realized how much of my confidence came from my family’s good standing in society.
It’s humiliating, and I avert my eyes as we pass. Regina doesn’t bother to introduce us, but I feel the girls’ stares until we turn the corner.
“Don’t mind them,” Regina says when we’re out of earshot. “They have the ridiculous belief that Lord Ambrose will someday look upon one of them. Therefore, they see anyone who enters the house as competition for his affection.”
“It could happen,” I say generously, remembering how lovely they were. Why wouldn’t he want one of them for his marquise?
Madame Regina laughs, genuinely amused by the thought. “His mother would never allow such a lowly union.”
I know nothing of Fae nobility, but the way she says it makes me wonder if I should know who Lord Ambrose’s mother is.
Not wanting to betray my ignorance, I keep the question to myself. I’ll ask the bandit tonight when I see him.
My stomach rumbles, protesting its lack of breakfast. I glance at the housekeeper, worried she might have heard. If she did, she pretends she didn’t.
I heeded the bandit’s warning, skipping the morning meal a kitchen maid delivered on a silver tray. It didn’t look unusual—just two soft-boiled eggs, toast, and a bowl of strawberries. But it wasn’t worth the risk.
We pass through the doors that lead into the conservatory, and the moment I step over the threshold, it’s as if the tension I’m carrying in my back and shoulders eases.
The room is large enough to stroll through. The glass walls are easily two stories high, and they meet the heavily slanted roof—also glass. The space is warm, and the air is heavy with moisture. It smells like earth and life. Short, potted citrus trees grow along the back wall, holding small, just ripening lemons amongst their glossy, dark green leaves.
More potted plants sit upon shelves and line walkways—most are roses. There are so many, all of them in full bloom, each boasting large, peony-shaped blossoms in pink, yellow, white, and crimson. They, too, lend their fragrance to the air.
“It seems Lord Ambrose likes roses,” I say, running the tip of my finger along a velvet petal.
“I do not believe Lord Ambrose has an opinion on them,” Madame Regina answers. “He rarely comes in here.”
“Oh.” I turn, looking at them all. “Then why…”
“His younger brother is fond of them,” she says, and for the first time, her voice is truly abrupt. “Come with me. I’ll show you where to fill the watering can.”
I look around, realizing it will take me all day to water this many plants.
Regina walks to a fountain at the center of the conservatory. From its center, water spills into a large raised pool, where white and orange fish swim.
“What are they?” I gasp, certain I’ve never seen anything like them in my life.
“Koi,” Madame Regina says. “Water is fed into the fountain from an underground aquifer. They don’t mind the cold temperature.”
I watch the fish for several seconds, enchanted.
“The watering can is there.” Regina nods toward the small tin container at the fountain’s edge.
“This?” I pick it up and give her an incredulous look. “At most, it looks as if it holds two cups of water.”
“Do you have something better to do with your time?”
Point taken.
I hold the watering can under the spigot in the raised pool, showing her I’m willing to work.
“I will leave you to it,” the housekeeper says, and then she exits the conservatory.
Soon, I slip into my task, deciding there are far worse chores than tending flowers. Grandmother loved her roses—she spent hours fussing over them every day. It brings back pleasant memories.
But by the end of the day, my feet are tired from standing, and I’m feeling every lost minute of sleep from the restless night. The sun has shaken off the clouds, and its afternoon heat beats in through the glass, warm enough I feel like I’m going to wither before the plants.
When Regina finally comes to fetch me, I gladly leave, dreading the moment I must return tomorrow.
“I’ve instructed the dressmaker to go to your room,” she says as I follow her out of the conservatory and into the dry, cool manor. “Let’s not make her wait long.”
I hurry to keep up, stifling a yawn behind my hand.
“Regina,” a man says when we turn the corner, eyeing me as he smiles at the housekeeper. He’s tall and slim, with long, pale blond hair and light gray eyes that are a touch unsettling. He’s dressed in a rich sapphire jacket, with a golden pocket watch chain hanging from the breast pocket.
Like the maids we saw earlier, he was in the foyer when I begged Lord Ambrose to let me stay.
The man steps directly in the middle of the hallway, blocking our path.
“Hello, Ian,” Regina says briskly, nudging me to the side so we may pass the man.
“I have yet to officially meet the young woman,” he says as he subtly blocks our way once more. He smiles at me, but it’s a calculating look. “What, exactly, is your relationship to Brahm?”
“Lord Ambrose,” Regina corrects sharply. “And there is no relationship. For the time being, Alice simply works in the manor.”
The man laughs, stepping forward as if he means to take my chin. “If Brahm has no attachment to her, I would be glad to take her in.”
As if appearing out of thin air, Lord Ambrose steps around me from behind, putting himself between the man and me. “I do not like to share, Ian. I believe you know that.”
I stare at the back of the marquis’s deep red jacket, my heart beating like I was just cornered by a predator. Lord Ambrose is close enough I could touch him, his broad shoulders blocking the disconcerting Faerie from view.
“I’m well aware.” Ian laughs. “But if you get bored of her, I’ll take her off your hands. And I must wonder, if you’re so eager to protect her, why not tether her and claim her for yourself?”
“She won’t be in West Faerie that long,” the marquis says.
“Interesting,” the man muses from the other side of Lord Ambrose. “Does your mother know you intend to return an illanté to the wild?”
“I don’t see why this is any of my mother’s business,” the marquis replies stonily.
“She might disagree.”
“The girl requested work,” Lord Ambrose says in his deep, cultured voice. It’s controlled and measured, curt and heavy with nobility. “It’s a business transaction and nothing more.”
“Brahm,” Regina says, interrupting the conversation. “Perhaps it would be best if Alice and I excused ourselves?”
“Yes,” Lord Ambrose replies. “Take her away.”
The housekeeper firmly grabs my arm and all but drags me down the hall.
“If you don’t wish to make her your
illanté, why don’t you set her brother free and be done with it?” the man asks from behind us, the words sounding like a subtle taunt.
“I have no desire to show mercy on her brother,” Lord Ambrose answers.
Ian replies, but we’re now too far away for me to hear what he says.
“Who was that?” I whisper urgently.
“Count Ian Treald,” Regina says. “One of Lord Ambrose’s mother’s loyal spies. She likes to keep tabs on her children, but she prefers to send her minions instead of coming herself.”
I’m dying to learn who this woman is, but I hold my tongue.
Instead, I ask, “What’s an illanté?”
Regina glances at me, frowning as we walk. “In the ancient Faerie language, it means ‘obligation.’ Hundreds of years ago, it became fashionable for the Fae of high standing to embrace humans with hardships, essentially making them their wards. Though the act seemed benevolent on the outside, most did it because they felt they were superior and decided it was their duty to care for lesser beings. Throughout the years, the illanté agreement became even more twisted. Now illantés are treated as pets, the Fae doing with them as they please. Some dote on their illantés, coddling them like pampered lapdogs. Others…are not so fortunate.”
This is what the bandit was speaking of—this is what he warned me about.
“You said it’s an agreement—like a bargain,” I say. “Don’t both parties have to give their consent? Why would a human wish to enter such a contract?”
Regina looks uncomfortable with the subject, but she keeps talking. “The magic does require agreement on both sides, but the situation is rarely just. Some humans agree with a blade to their throat; others are simply deceived. Many comply to keep loved ones safe.”
I nod, uncomfortable.
Regina looks over, giving me a small smile. “But it’s nothing you need to worry about, not while you’re under Lord Ambrose’s protection. If he wanted to tether you to him, he would have done it already.”
I’m not sure that makes me feel all that much better.
“You called the marquis by his given name,” I say. “Are you and he close?”
“Brahm is my cousin.”
“Have you lived here long?”
“Five years,” she says, her tone becoming abrupt. “Now enough chatter. The dressmaker is waiting.”
4
BRAHM
I barely have a leg over the top of the stone balcony railing when Alice opens the door that leads into her room and comes out to meet me, saying, “You must tell me your name. All day long, I’ve thought of you as ‘the bandit,’ and to be honest, it’s quite tedious.”
“You’ve thought of me all day, Alice?”
Her eyes go wide, and I smile at her discomfort.
“That’s not what I meant,” she insists, ushering me into her room. “I was merely hungry, and you promised food. Perhaps I am no better than a stray cat, but I’m quite fond of people who promise me meals.”
“Was I supposed to bring food?” I ask, intrigued by her strange mood.
She whips back, hand on her stomach dramatically, looking like she’s going to perish from hunger. “You didn’t forget—you wouldn’t.” She narrows her eyes into slits. “You couldn’t.”
Instead of a meal, I produce a small vial that was entirely too much trouble to procure. I had just returned from Corrinmead when I found Alice and Regina in the hall with Ian.
“What’s that?” she asks.
“Let’s call it an antidote.” I take her hand and press the precious vial into her palm. “Place one drop on your tongue before you eat, and the effects of the Fae food should go unnoticed.”
“Truly?” she asks, looking properly impressed. She studies the small glass container, turning it in her hand. It glows faintly in the candlelit room. “So, it’s bottled magic?”
“Something like that,” I say with a smile. “And it’s not easy to obtain—do not misplace, break, or misuse it.”
She turns her eyes on me. “Where did you find it?”
“I have my ways.”
“Shall we test it?” She nods her head toward a tray that lies abandoned on a table by the fire. A kitchen maid must have brought it this evening. “I’ll feel better if you are with me the first time I use it, just in case there are ill effects.”
I jerk my head toward the table, telling her to be my guest.
She pauses after opening the stopper, shooting me a look. “You realize this requires me to put a lot of trust in you, don’t you?”
I lean against the wall, enjoying this far too much. “If I had nefarious intentions, I had plenty of opportunities to act upon them before now.”
She frowns, pressing her lips to the side as she thinks. “I suppose that’s true.”
Before she takes a drop from the stopper, she turns back to me, eyeing me so intently, I almost squirm under her gaze.
“What’s your name?” she finally asks.
“Why does it matter?”
“How can I possibly trust someone who won’t even give me his name?”
I push away from the wall, stalking toward her, careful to keep my head tilted away from the candles. “How can you eat if you do not take the concoction?”
“Fine.” She smiles, looking mischievous. “Instead, show me your face.”
“I’m leaving.” I turn to go. “Take it or don’t—starve or let yourself become a puppet of the Fae. The choice is yours.”
“Wait!” she cries softly, chasing after me. “Don’t go. I won’t ask again, I swear. Eat with me—there is plenty.”
I look back, worried by how tempted I am by Alice’s offer. It wouldn’t be a hardship to share a cozy meal by the fire, just the two of us, no titles getting in the way.
“It’s not safe for me to linger,” I remind her.
Her face falls. “Oh, yes.”
“Be cautious while you are here. This time, listen to my warning when I tell you not to make bargains or agreements.”
She follows me to the door like a puppy. “Why does it sound like you don’t plan to return?”
I step into the night, refusing to indulge in the desire to look at her once more. “I don’t.”
“I won’t see you again?” she demands, sounding aghast.
“I’m not any safer than Lord Ambrose,” I tell her. “You would be wise to stay away from me as well.”
I swing over the railing, catching the lattice that’s attached to the wall between Alice’s balcony and mine. Knowing she will watch me until I’m out of sight, I resist the urge to leap to my side and be done with it.
Visiting her like this is inconvenient, but I cannot reveal my secret to her. Knowledge is dangerous—especially this kind of knowledge.
So I drop to the ground and slip into the cover of the forest, using my magic to blend in with the shadows. Once I’m concealed, I turn back, watching Alice in the night.
Sure enough, she stands by the balcony like a ghost maiden in a tale, staring into the woods as the light breeze tugs her long, silken hair. After several minutes, she hugs herself as if cold and then returns to her room, closing the door behind her.
I reach out with the magic that connects me to the natural world and turn the lock she forgot to set, keeping her as safe as she can be in the borderlands of Faerie.
It’s only when I’m back in my bedchamber that I realize I forgot to warn her about tomorrow’s full moon.
“Are you telling me you refuse to explain tonight’s dangers to Alice?” I demand, knowing that arguing with Regina will do me no good. Once she’s made up her mind, it’s as good as set.
“I didn’t say that,” my cousin responds calmly. “I merely suggested you tell her yourself.”
I lower my voice even though we’re alone in my quarters. “You know I cannot. I’ve had too many conversations with her while masked.”
“I’ve been meaning to ask you about that. Out of all the humans you’ve found in the woods, why did you bring
her here? You’ve never been prone to returning with strays.”
Uncomfortable with the question, I look down. “She was determined to speak with me.”
“That may be, but you didn’t have to take her in,” she says.
“Do not act like you didn’t have a part in her staying.”
Regina laughs under her breath. “We both know how often you listen to me. It must have been something else.”
I pause, not eager to voice my thoughts aloud. “Does Alice seem…familiar to you?”
Regina’s face softens. “I knew that was why you gave in to her pleas.”
I look up sharply. “Then why did you make me admit it?”
“It’s good for you to be honest with yourself occasionally. After all, you are the only person you can truly lie to.”
I roll my eyes, sitting back in my chair. After a moment, I ask, “Is it her? Is it possible?”
She sighs. “I very much doubt it.”
“But her name…”
“Is common,” Regina points out. Her eyes soften. “I think, perhaps, we would like it to be her, and therefore we’re seeing connections that do not exist.”
“Drake would know.”
“He was so young,” she argues. “If he does remember, looking upon this Alice might be painful. He might resent her.”
I shake my head. “He’s still obsessed with roses. If he regretted his decision, he would have purged the girl from his memory.”
“I took Alice to the conservatory yesterday,” Regina admits, looking slightly haunted as she gives me an apologetic look. “I was curious.”
I lean forward. “And?”
“She lit up,” Regina says.
We fall into silence, wondering.
“It doesn’t matter,” I finally say, rising. “Either way, my mother must not discover her. She’d punish Alice for even resembling the girl we knew—and if not that, certainly the kindness I was foolish enough to show her.”
“Your mother is cruel,” Regina says bitterly, murmuring words that no one else would dare voice, even in privacy. Her hands clasp over the black satin of her skirt, and her eyes become distant.
The Masked Fae (Royal Fae of Rose Briar Woods Book 1) Page 4