“The marquis’s sister has personal touches everywhere, and she doesn’t even live in the manor. But this room…” I shrug. “It feels empty.”
The bandit looks around. “So?”
“It’s sort of sad, isn’t it?”
“Why is it sad?” he demands.
“It just seems…lonely.”
He crosses back, taking my hand to keep me moving. “It doesn’t matter whether Lord Ambrose is lonely or not, and you certainly shouldn’t trouble yourself with such things.”
Moments later, we stand outside my room in the hall.
“It’s locked.” I press my hand to my forehead, realizing this was all for naught.
The bandit gives me a strange look as he produces a key and slides it into the lock.
“Where did you get that?” I hiss as he opens the door.
“Lord Ambrose’s room,” he says without apology, dragging me inside and locking the door behind us.
“Why do you have it?”
“It doesn’t seem like something that should be lying around while the marquis is away.”
I hold out my hand. “Give it to me.”
Laughing as if that idea is ludicrous, he drops it down the front of his jacket.
“What are you doing?” I demand. “Why should you keep it?”
Not as careful to keep his face in the shadows now, the bandit stalks across the room. He wears a smile that steals my breath. When he’s very near, I take a step back. He continues forward, stopping only when my shoulders bump into the door.
I gulp as I look up at him, wishing he’d remove the mask.
“For occasions exactly like this,” he says darkly, lowering his face close to mine.
My voice is too high as I ask, “And what, exactly, is the occasion?”
He’s going to kiss me.
“For when you lock yourself out of your room,” he teases near my ear. He then pulls back, walking toward the fireplace.
“Tell me your name,” I demand, feeling lightheaded…and maybe a little disappointed.
He takes a seat on the chaise longue and crosses his arms. “Why do you want it so desperately?”
“I just…do.”
He watches me intently. “I’ll make a deal with you, Alice. If you let me take you back to your people, and you swear not to tell a soul, I will give you my name.”
“You’re very persistent.”
“The same could be said about you,” he points out.
With a sigh, I sit in the chair across from him. “Lord Ambrose doesn’t want me here either. He said I am ‘uncomfortable.’”
The bandit smirks. “That bothers you?”
“Of course it bothers me!” I exclaim. “Who would want to be called that? He might as well have said I am a hideous creature—an unpleasant human.”
He laughs as if enjoying the conversation. “I do not believe that is what he meant.”
“What else could it mean?”
“Maybe ‘uncomfortable’ is another way of saying you are a nuisance.”
I wrinkle my nose, not liking that much better.
“You don’t like being disliked, do you? A pretty girl like you must be adored at home.” He watches me closely. “You have dozens of friends, don’t you? Suitors as far as the eye can see as well?”
“I had both of those.” My mood darkens. “But they disappeared just as quickly as my fortune.”
The bandit is quiet for several seconds before he asks, “Are you truly here for your brother…or are you running away?”
The words are a sharp dagger to my pride. Instead of answering, I hide my pain and latch onto the least important detail of the conversation. “So…you think I’m pretty?”
He looks taken aback, almost as if he’s wondering how to deny it. “Does it matter what I think?” he finally says.
“A little,” I admit.
The bandit stands, slowly closing the distance between us before he pulls me to my feet. “Very well, I do think you’re pretty. In fact, Alice, you are the most beautiful nuisance I’ve ever met.”
I laugh, oddly warmed by the words.
“I need to go,” he says, his tone turning solemn. “I’ve already stayed too long.”
“When will I see you again?”
I refuse to believe this will be the last time.
“I can’t keep visiting you. You know that, don’t you?”
Slowly, I nod.
“Eventually, no matter how careful we are, we will be caught.”
“What would happen to you?” I ask. “What are your crimes?”
“I patrol the main thoroughfare in the evenings, looking for human stragglers who are not where they belong.”
“Like me,” I say softly, suddenly not feeling quite so special.
“Like you,” he agrees. “Though you are the first human I’ve met who was determined to travel deeper into Faerie after dark. The rest are happy to let me escort them to the bridge.”
“You think I’m foolish?”
He laughs under his breath. “I know you’re foolish.”
“Wait a moment.” I study the edge of his soft black mask, wishing I were brave enough to pull it from his face. “Surely escorting people to the bridge isn’t a crime?”
“The Fae don’t like it when I steal their playthings—the queen is especially irritated that I dare to meddle in the affairs of her subjects.”
“The queen?” I repeat, trying to remember all I’ve heard about her.
She’s said to be stunningly beautiful, with a voice like the tinkling of silver bells. But her affection is toxic, and she never keeps a husband for more than a year. She’s like a perpetual widow spider, remarrying as soon as each mourning period is over.
How much is rumor, I don’t know.
“Yes, Queen Marison.” He pauses for emphasis. “Lord Ambrose’s mother.”
The revelation is startling, and I stare at the bandit for several seconds before I can respond. “But that would make Lord Ambrose…”
“Brahm Ambrose Severin, Prince of West Faerie, eldest son of Her Majesty and her first husband, Lord Kallin Ambrose.”
“What’s he doing in Rose Briar Woods?” I ask, aghast.
“Some say he grew tired of court politics and retired to the peace of the forest. Others claim he and his dear mother had a falling out, and she banished him to the borderland.”
“What do you think happened?”
“It doesn’t matter what I think. The only thing I need to know is that I am at odds with the marquis. It’s his duty to punish the humans when they overstep their boundaries, and it’s mine to keep them safe from the Fae’s manipulations. You understand why our relationship cannot be an amicable one?”
“Where did his title come from?”
“It was his father’s.”
“Wait,” I say. “If Lord Ambrose is the eldest son, does that mean he will be king?”
“In West Faerie, the throne passes to daughters.”
“Only in West Faerie?” I ask. “The other Fae courts don’t follow the same rule?”
“As far as I know.”
As I process the new information, I study the bandit. The light plays with my eyes, making it impossible to see him well, but I memorize all the details I can—his dark hair peeking out from under the brim of his hat and his equally dark eyes under the mask. Clean-shaven skin, expensive leather, well-tailored jacket.
“You’re not a bandit,” I finally say.
“I told you I wasn’t.”
“You’re…”
“Yes?”
Is it my imagination, or does he look a touch nervous?
“Well, you’re rather heroic, aren’t you?”
He swallows, his throat visibly moving. “I think that might be an exaggeration.”
“Not to all the people you’ve saved.” I meet his shadowed eyes. “Not to me.”
We’re closer now, drawn together as if connected by an ever-shortening cord.
“You
’ve never let me thank you for saving me that night,” I whisper.
His voice is rough as he says, “It’s not necessary.”
“Surely you can at least accept a small token?” My eyes move to his lips, which are perfectly visible in the candlelight. “A kiss for a hero? Isn’t that the way the stories go?”
“Alice,” he says, his voice strained.
I press a chaste kiss to his mouth, our lips meeting for only a few brief seconds before I pull back. Just for a moment, his eyes flicker into focus, but then he tilts his head slightly, and the shadows obscure them once more.
“Thank you for saving me,” I whisper, moving forward again.
It’s just another soft kiss—lingering, one-sided, and slightly disappointing. But the bandit doesn’t move away, nor does he nudge me back.
And then…his lips subtly move against mine, and my heart skips a beat. His hand finds my side, his fingertips grazing my waist, and I move in closer.
Suddenly, he jerks back. Half a second later, a knock sounds at the door.
“Alice,” Regina calls from the hallway. “Are you still awake?”
When I turn to tell the masked man to hide, I find he’s already gone. The balcony door shuts behind him, and his shadow disappears over the rail.
6
BRAHM
When I finally make it back to my quarters, I sink into an armchair and bury my face in my hands.
Tonight shouldn’t have happened. I had no intention of meeting with Alice again, but then I found her hanging from the lattice. What else could I do but help her? And she looked so relieved to see me—she held on to me so tightly after I pulled her onto the balcony.
Also, I believe she suspects my identity, though that is no surprise considering how much time I’ve been spending with her.
So far, I’ve hidden myself with my magic, obscuring my features with tricks of light, making my ears appear human. But if I keep visiting her, it will only be a matter of time before even that will fail. Familiarity can see through illusion.
Maybe I could tell her.
Immediately, I dismiss the thought. It would put Alice in danger. If my mother were to get her hands on her, heaven forbid, ignorance would be the girl’s only defense.
Our queen can sense a human lie as keenly as a hunting hound can track a scent. If she believed Alice was an accomplice to my crimes…
Shuddering, I slam a door on that trail of thought. No, I can’t see her again. Tonight was the last.
I must put an end to it before this goes any further.
A week passes, and then another. True to my vow, I haven’t visited Alice again—not in the shadows and not as myself.
I sit, tapping the end of a quill to a blank piece of parchment, consumed in my thoughts as Regina rattles off household details I couldn’t care less about.
“She’s going to make herself ill,” Regina says, finally catching my attention.
I look over, frowning. “Who is?”
“Have you listened to a word I’ve said?” she demands.
“More than one.” I smirk at my cousin. “At least five, maybe even as many as ten.”
“And I thought you cared about the girl.”
I sit straighter. “Alice? What’s wrong with her?”
Regina raises her eyebrows, taking note of my reaction. “She picks at her food. She does her work, but she looks pale and listless. I don’t think she’s been sleeping. She must be homesick.”
“Homesick?”
My cousin gives me a dry look. “It’s a condition that afflicts those who are actually happy in their homes before they leave them.”
“I wonder what that must be like.”
I joke because Regina expects it, but my mind is on Alice. Surely her listlessness isn’t due to my absence. She didn’t know the masked man that well.
“She asked me a strange question, though,” Regina says as she glances over her shoulder to ensure the door is closed. “She wanted to know if the Highwayman had been caught. She said she heard the maids talking about him, and it made her nervous.”
I frown. No matter what the maids said, Alice knows I am no threat. “Why would she ask you that?”
“I think she was searching for information. Perhaps she’s worried you were apprehended?” Regina whispers. “Have you seen her recently?”
I slowly shake my head. “Not for weeks.”
“She’s attached to you,” Regina scolds. “What did you do?”
“I didn’t do anything,” I hedge, remembering the kiss. Alice initiated that, though. “I saved her in the woods. I visited her a few times after that. I brought her the concoction I bought in Corrinmead.”
“Why don’t you just claim her as your illanté and be done with it? I had Wallen look into her family as you asked. Except for her brother, she truly has no one to return to. Would it be so wrong to keep her? Make her your ward; let the tether protect her.” When I begin to protest, Regina cuts me off. “And you’re fond of her—don’t bother trying to find a way to deny it. She reminds you of our Alice.”
I can’t deny it, and that is worrisome. I feel the lie tugging at me no matter how I try to twist the words.
“Maybe you should get to know her as Lord Ambrose?” Regina suggests. “See if she likes your true self as much as the one you created?”
What if she doesn’t?
“It’s just an idea.” Regina rises. “But believe me, the girl is lonely. If you’re what’s brought on this sadness, know there is a chance she will go looking for you in the night if you don’t do something.”
“You think she would?” I ask, uneasy.
Regina shrugs as she stands to leave my quarters.
I sit in silence for several minutes, thinking too hard.
Maybe I’ll visit Alice in the conservatory, gauge her mood myself. Surely there is no harm in that.
“Good afternoon, Your Highness,” Edalessa says as I pass her in the hall, smiling at me coquettishly.
I merely nod toward the maid and keep walking. It irritates me when the staff members use my royal title, but I refuse to tangle myself in a conversation with the maid. She’s too persistent for my liking, too calculating and driven—too much like my mother.
“Is there anything you require?” she asks, undeterred by my dismissal. “Are you going to your study? Shall I fetch tea and refreshments?”
“No, thank you,” I say curtly.
“Company then?” she asks, sidling up close.
I stop short. “Edalessa.”
“Yes?” she asks eagerly.
“You seem bored. Should I inform Regina you require more daily tasks?”
Her eyes flash. “No, my lord.”
“Very well.” I motion her down the hall, in the opposite direction I’m walking.
“Should you change your mind…” she says flirtatiously.
“I know where to find you,” I deadpan.
She’s the illegitimate niece of Lord Vamber, the gruff keeper of the northern territories, and I accepted her into my household as a personal favor to him. Even though I am no longer at court, I prefer to keep my alliances strong.
I’m not sure she’s worth the trouble, however. Edalessa has been like a harpy ever since she arrived, eager to dig her talons into me at the first sign of weakness. She would like nothing more than to elevate her position and become lady of the house.
Thankful to have shaken her, I walk into the conservatory. As always, I’m mildly surprised to find it’s so humid. I look for Alice, certain she must be here somewhere.
Drake is the only one besides Alice who frequents the room, and the vast space is nearly silent except for the fountain that bubbles in the center. It’s where I found Alice before, but she’s not here now.
I walk the stone paths that meander through the planted beds and shelves of potted plants, trying to ignore the sheer number of roses, worrying about my brother’s obsession.
Drake was the closest to young Alice, only a few year
s older than she. They were playmates, nearly inseparable. She was an illanté who became beloved to the royal family, treasured. Cherished.
No one knows where she came from. According to the traders, she wandered into West Faerie near the eastern border of our family’s lands, near the mountainous human territory of Fallon. Only a toddler, old enough to say simple, short sentences that were half-nonsense, she was captured and given to Mother as a gift. With her large honey eyes and teak-colored hair, she was the loveliest human child anyone had ever seen.
She said her name was Alice. She repeated it constantly, clutching hold of even Mother’s stone heart.
She lived with us for five years, not quite a sister—but never a pet.
Father loved her as much as the rest of us, treating her like a true child. He wanted to adopt her into the family—give her our name, make her belong.
Mother refused, saying a human would never sully her line.
“Lord Ambrose?” Alice says from behind me.
Startled, I turn, my mind still in the past.
The girl who reminds me so much of the Alice I knew looks at me in question, so familiar it haunts me. Her hair and eyes are wrong, but the resemblance is uncanny.
And her name.
There must be some connection—there must.
No longer in her tattered dress, Alice wears a full brown gown, topped with a white, sleeveless overdress. It laces at her waist, making her look like a milkmaid from a human child’s picture book. The top half of her blonde hair is held up with a ribbon, and the length of it falls down her back.
She’s entirely too lovely. My chest suddenly aches, remembering the way she kissed me.
Not me, I remind myself. The masked man—a hero in her eyes. Human.
Would Alice have given that same kiss to a Fae prince, eldest son of the bloodthirsty queen of West Faerie?
“Do you need something?” she prods when I don’t answer, her eyes betraying how wary she is of my true identity.
Her expression answers my question.
“No,” I say, turning to leave. “Please, excuse me.”
I walk swiftly toward the doors, tugging at my cravat.
“Are the roses always in bloom?” she calls to me, making me pause on the stone path.
The Masked Fae (Royal Fae of Rose Briar Woods Book 1) Page 6