“How do you know this girl was Eleanor?” I ask. “You were young as well—your memory must not be much better than mine.”
“Eleanor didn’t leave us until she was eight. Drake was ten, and I was fourteen. Though I’ve spent the last ten years trying to forget, I remember her.”
I frown as an uncomfortable thought hits me. If Brahm is right, and this girl was my sister, he spent more time with her than I did—more than my parents, who feverishly searched for her.
“You said your family loved her—that she was far more than a pet. What happened to make your mother hate her to the point of wanting her dead?”
“Mother loved Eleanor as much as she is capable of loving anything, which is very little. When my father announced he wanted to give her his name and make her a true part of the family, Mother decided we were too attached and that Eleanor needed to go.”
“What did she do to your brother when she found out he tried to help Eleanor escape?”
Brahm doesn’t answer right away, but his face contorts with emotion. After a long few seconds, he says, “She executed our father.”
I gasp, unable to even imagine it. “To punish your brother, she killed your father?”
His face hardens. “She said it was Father’s fault her child betrayed her, that he put the ridiculous notion that humans could be our equals into Drake’s head. She declared it was treason and that he planned it to undermine her authority.” His eyes flash with memory. “As punishment for his crime, she made Drake watch.”
I stare at him, horrified, unable to imagine what kind of monster this woman must be.
“He was the first in her endless string of executions. The next was her younger sister, Regina’s mother, who told her she’d gone mad. That was only a day later.
“It’s gotten to the point that anyone who so much as looks at her the wrong way is accused of treason and murdered. West Faerie is awash in blood, and there’s no one who will dare put a stop to it.”
“That’s why you donned the mask—to save those you can, just as your brother did.”
“I wear the mask because I’m too gutless to confront my mother,” Brahm says bitterly. “I have too many I care about—Regina and Wallen, Drake and Sabine. I cannot imagine what she might do to them if I were to openly oppose her.”
Softly, I ask, “How did Drake and Eleanor escape?”
“Eleanor was only tethered until Mother decided to end the agreement.”
“Tethered?”
“It’s part of the illanté bargain. Eleanor couldn’t go much further than the castle grounds. The boundary was a garden where she and Drake used to play.”
“Are all tethers a certain length?”
“No, it depends on how far the owner will let their illanté travel. Once a human is tethered, they are moderately safe to go about Faerie. Many become messengers and stewards, attending to their Fae’s business.”
“What keeps them safe?”
“It’s forbidden to lay your hands on someone’s illanté, and the binding magic protects them.”
I wrinkle my brow. “Why didn’t you make me an illanté as soon as I came to you? Wouldn’t that have been safer?”
Brahm’s expression darkens. “The illanté agreement is binding for life—the human’s life. The only way I could release you would be to decide I wanted to kill you. Drake used the small window after Mother made her decision to steal Eleanor away—he found a loophole in the magic. But I could never release you, Alice. I’d never wish for your death. If I had given you my protection and made you my illanté, you could never have returned home. That’s why it was so dangerous for you to come into Faerie. That’s why I tried so hard to dissuade you from staying.”
I store away everything he tells me, saving it to mull over later.
“I need to go,” Brahm says reluctantly, pulling his hand from mine. “Will you be all right?”
Though the thought of staying in the empty house isn’t pleasant, I’m glad to be somewhere familiar.
“It’s better than sleeping in your stable,” I point out.
A frown darkens Brahm’s face.
“When will you return?” I ask as we rise.
“Not until my mother goes back to Auvenridge. After that, I’ll have Regina pack your things, and I’ll bring them to you.”
I grasp his arm. “My things? But I haven’t even started the portrait.”
Brahm’s forehead creases with confusion. “You can’t come back into Faerie. Surely you understand the danger now.”
“But…you’re in Faerie,” I say softly.
He slides his fingers into my hair, gently stroking my cheek with his thumb. “It’s late. Now is not the time to discuss this. You need to get some sleep.”
I grasp his wrist, keeping him from stepping away. “Promise me I’ll see you again.”
“This would be a poor final goodbye.”
“That’s not a promise.”
Brahm’s expression softens. “I will do everything in my power to return soon.”
“Everything in your power?” I demand.
I think of his mother and her reputation for murdering subjects who disobey her.
“Are you in danger?”
“I’m always in danger,” he answers. “I’ve lived the last five years of my life defying my queen’s wishes.”
“Brahm.”
“Every minute I linger here, my chance of detection increases,” he reminds me. “I need to go.”
I unhand him immediately, nodding even as my breathing becomes stilted and panicky. “Be careful,” I say softly.
I carry the lamp as we walk to the door, trying to ignore the jumping shadows it creates on the walls.
When we reach the entry, I resist the urge to cling to Brahm and beg him to stay. Instead, I stand on my tiptoes and press a light kiss to his cheek. Softly, I say, “For protection and luck.”
He takes my hand, holding it like he, too, is reluctant to part. I think he’s going to kiss me again, but he merely copies the gesture, brushing his lips over my cheek, very near the crease of my mouth. “Promise you won’t go back into Faerie?”
“As long as you return for Year’s End, I won’t come looking for you.”
“Alice,” he says urgently, “If something were to happen to me, you’d be vulnerable. For my sanity, I need to know that you’ll heed my warning this time.”
Even though I hate it, the worry in his eyes bothers me too much to refuse.
“I won’t go into Faerie without you,” I say. “But don’t forget your promise to return.”
Brahm nods solemnly, and then he unwraps my fingers from his. We stand near the doorway, studying each other for several seconds before he steps into the night, leaving me utterly alone in this big, silent house that suddenly feels like a stranger.
16
BRAHM
A knock sounds at my outer chamber door only minutes after I return. Ignoring it, I quickly undress, kicking off my boots. I then stash the clothing in a dark corner of my armoire.
The knock sounds again, this time with an air of impatience.
Relaxing when I recognize that particular brand of irritation, I take my time dressing. When I swing open the door, I grin at Sabine. “I see you’re as impatient as ever.”
My sister stands in the hall, tapping her fingers on her crossed arms. “Took you long enough,” she says, pushing past me.
“Please, come in,” I tease, closing the door behind us.
“Of all nights, why did you decide to go out as the Highwayman tonight?” she demands. “What if you’d been caught?”
“Does it look like I was out?” I say, motioning to my nighttime attire.
Sabine points a finger at me and narrows her eyes. “Don’t try that with me—I saw you slinking across the yard. What if Mother had caught you?”
“And that’s why you get the room on this side of the manor when you visit.”
She huffs out a breath, shaking her head. “What did
you do with the girl?”
“What girl?”
“Brahm!”
I laugh to myself, enjoying riling my younger sister more than I should. One day, she’ll inherit the crown and be my queen—but today is not that day.
“She’s in Kellington.”
“Mother is furious.”
“I’m not sure what I’ve done wrong.”
“You know how she feels about humans, and now you’ve let an untethered girl into your household.”
“I don’t remember that being strictly forbidden. Though it’s certainly a risk for them, every once in a while, untethered humans stay in Faerie for an extended time on business. What’s the name of that group of humans you’re so taken with?” I pause, trying to remember. “The traveling theater troupe?”
“That’s different,” Sabine argues. “They came as a goodwill gesture to celebrate my sixteenth birthday—as honored guests.”
“And Alice came to paint my portrait to try to win my favor so I’d release her brother.”
Sabine’s expression sharpens. “What’s her name?”
I realize my misstep, and I press my mouth into a thin line, assessing her.
Sabine and Eleanor were never great friends. The truth is, Sabine was jealous of the attention Eleanor received, though she’d never admit it. We haven’t talked about it, but I believe she still resents the girl for what Mother did to Father, though that was in no way Eleanor’s fault.
“It’s not her,” I say simply.
“Well, of course it’s not,” Sabine replies. “That Alice is dead.”
I narrow my eyes. “Must you be so callous? What if Drake had heard you?”
“Do you see him?” she asks bluntly, spreading her arms wide. “And it’s been over ten years, Brahm. She was just a human.”
“Sabine.”
She raises her hand. “I don’t want one of your lectures. I know how you feel about them, and I’ve never given you any trouble over it. I’ve protected your secret, and I always will. But don’t expect my heart to bleed for them the way yours does.”
“I don’t understand you.” I sit in a chair, waving for her to take a seat as well. “You, more than anyone, are fascinated with human culture, and yet you have no compassion.”
“Compassion is overrated.” She softens her words with a smile. “Humans are interesting, yes. But they’re still just humans. Whoever this girl is, she’s certainly not worth dying for.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever met someone as apathetic as you, Sabine. You are not cruel, and yet you will so quickly turn a blind eye if it suits you.”
Her expression hardens, and she leans forward, clasping the arms of her chair. “I will always—always—choose you first. You’re simply going to have to live with that. If it comes down to it, I will gladly let Mother take out her madness on this girl as long as she doesn’t direct it at you.”
I sit back with a sigh. It’s hard to argue with that sort of loyalty, disturbing though it might be. But that’s why Sabine is dangerous—that’s why I don’t trust her quite as much as I would like.
“Alice isn’t coming back to Faerie,” I finally say. “Let’s put this behind us.”
Suddenly, Sabine’s brave mask slips, and she looks shaken with relief. “You swear?”
“I will do everything in my power to keep her out.”
“And you won’t go into the woods again while Mother is visiting?”
I hesitate before I agree. “I won’t—but you must promise to get her back to Auvenridge as quickly as possible. I’ll go out of my mind if she stays for long.”
She nods quickly. “I will, I swear.”
I study my sister, and familiar guilt nips at my conscience. “How are you faring?”
“Oh, you know.” Sabine lets out a long sigh. “It’s the same as always. I’m sure Mother will marry again soon, and I’ll have a temporary break from her continual nagging.”
My lips twist with morbid humor. “One, maybe two months.”
Sabine grins. “One or two blissful months, and then I’ll get to wear black again. You know how well it suits my complexion.”
“How is Drake?”
She shrugs, suddenly avoiding my eyes. “Who knows? He walks through his days like a wraith.”
As if killing our father wasn’t punishment enough, Mother commanded that all were forbidden to speak to Drake after the incident, lacing her decree with magic so it could not be disregarded.
Sabine and I rebelled when we three were alone, finding ways around the magic as much as possible. But even with that, the punishment was too much for his young mind. In just a few years, he withdrew into himself, shutting others out entirely. He now haunts the family like a ghost—always there, but always silent.
“Do you remember the rose garden you planted for him and Alice all those years ago?” Sabine asks. “Behind the hedge, where they liked to play?”
“Yes,” I say, startled she said the name. She usually avoids it.
“Mother discovered it recently.” Sabine studies the skirt of her gown, running her hand over the silken material. “She withered the roses, and then she burned the entire garden.”
A lump forms in my throat.
Sabine’s eyes become misty. “Drake watched it smolder, and then he walked away.”
“He knew she’d find it eventually,” I say. “Why else would he bring cuttings with him every time you visited?”
“How many are in your greenhouse now?” she asks.
“Several hundred.”
“It’s a strange obsession.”
“What else does he have?” I ask gently.
She shakes her head, threading her fingers together.
“I’m sorry,” I say quietly.
Sabine glances up, looking unusually vulnerable. “What for?”
“You are the bravest out of us—I ran away. Drake withdrew. You’ve stood strong, dealing with Mother practically singlehandedly.”
We both fall silent for several seconds as distant memories come too close.
Though Sabine seems callous, she’s had to grow a thick skin. The fact that she can care about anything at this point is a miracle.
“I’m glad you took Regina away all those years ago,” she says quietly. “I’ve never blamed you for leaving. What Mother did…” She blinks quickly, looking away. “Don’t give her a reason to hurt you, too, Brahm. I would never forgive you.”
Slowly, I nod.
Standing abruptly, Sabine dabs at her eyes and then gives me a smile. “It’s late, and you look like death. I’ll let you get some sleep.”
I walk her to her door in the hall, making sure she gets in all right, and then I wander, knowing I have too much on my mind to find sleep just yet.
No conscious decision leads me to the conservatory, but that’s where I end up. Now that the sun has set, the room is cool and damp. No lamps glow from within, but the almost full moon shines through the glass wall, making it easy to spot the dark shadow near the pond.
I walk down the path, wrestling with the magic that tries to bind my mouth. It’s as strong now as it was ten years ago.
It’s easier when Sabine is with us—she and I can talk to Drake through each other, including information we want him to hear. But when I’m alone with my brother, it’s impossible, even when I try to reason with the magic that I’m just talking to myself.
With a sigh, I give up and clasp my brother’s shoulder. He turns to me, nodding once before he looks back at the roses.
It’s frustrating that he could talk if he chose—he could tell me what’s bothering him, and I could listen.
But he won’t. Perhaps it’s too hard to have a conversation with someone who can never answer.
It’s a miserable existence.
Maybe if he’d left Faerie and gone to a human kingdom, he could have had a normal life. They aren’t bound to obey like we are. But Mother tethered him like an illanté.
Feeling as if I’m intruding, with no
way to speak what’s on my mind, I bow my head and then turn toward the door. Drake doesn’t try to stop me. He simply stands in the moonlight, living a wraith’s life, just as Sabine said.
17
ALICE
The night is one of the worst I’ve spent in the house. It feels like my parents and grandmother died all over again. The quilt does little to soften the hard wooden floors, and the manor makes all kinds of noises that seem louder when you’re alone.
Even though I got up several times in the night to add wood to the fire, when I wake in the morning, the coals are gray, and the room is frigid.
I sit up, wrapping the quilt around me, and draw my knees to my chin as I stare at the cold hearth.
It’s only a week until Year’s End. When I set off into the Rose Briar Woods, I imagined Gustin would be free long before now. I also didn’t think I’d be spending the holiday in this house.
Though it’s cold and lonely, the morning light chases away some of the sadness. I’m home—a place I never imagined I’d set foot in again. It’s empty, but it’s comforting all the same.
A knock sounds at the front door, echoing through the estate. I jump, and my pulse races at the thought of someone catching me and believing I don’t belong here.
Immediately, I imagine the humiliation of being dragged onto the snowy streets, maybe even taken to the constable and accused of squatting.
I push myself to my feet and peek past the curtains.
Several wagons are parked out front, each pulled by a pair of chestnut draft horses. Their loads are covered with canvas tarps, and several men mill around, looking toward the entry as if waiting.
What could they be here for?
The man at the door finally steps into view, and my fear subsides.
Running my hand over my unruly hair, knowing I must look frightful, I work the heavy locks and crack the door open.
“Wallen?” I ask, still wrapped in the heavy quilt.
The Fae man turns, bowing when he sees me, not looking the slightest bit surprised to find me here. “Good morning, Miss Gravely. We’ve just been to the auction house. Lord Ambrose has asked me to oversee the furniture’s delivery.”
The Masked Fae (Royal Fae of Rose Briar Woods Book 1) Page 13