“You can’t come back into Faerie, Alice,” he says gently. “We already discussed this.”
“But…” I shake my head, not liking the direction of the conversation. “I promised I wouldn’t go back without you—not that I wouldn’t return at all.”
He reaches for my hand as he studies me. “Do this for me, and I will free your brother.”
“That’s not fair,” I whisper. “You can’t ask me to choose between him and you.”
Brahm leans forward, speaking volumes with his dark brown eyes. He brushes my hair back, looking as if he’s struggling as well. “I’m not asking you to choose, Alice. This isn’t up for negotiation.”
I pull away, setting the box aside as I stand. As I try to put my thoughts in order, I walk to the window. This can’t be a goodbye, not today of all days.
Hugging myself, I stare at the snow, wondering how it could suddenly seem so much colder in here than it does out there.
Brahm steps up behind me. “I let this go too far—I began to care for you in ways that aren’t allowed. I cannot let myself love you, Alice. And I cannot let you love me.”
In my reflection, a lone tear spills down my cheek. In all my recent daydreams, we were together. We somehow found a way to end his mother’s tyrannical rule, and we were happy.
But that’s all they were—dreams.
I knew in my heart that Brahm and I couldn’t live that life. Who’s ever heard of a Fae man marrying a human woman? It’s absurd.
Slowly, I turn to look at him. “Then make me your illanté. I’ve lost too many people. I don’t want to lose you as well. I’ll live with you as an obligation if you let me, a friend only. And if I love you in silence, that’s my choice—not yours.”
“No.” The word is a whisper, voiced like a caress. “I will not allow you to forfeit your future for me.”
“Shouldn’t I have the right to choose?”
“I want you to get married and have a family,” he continues. “Spend holidays in this room with a real Year’s End tree. Your past was so turbulent, Alice, and much of that has been my family’s fault. I want you to have the best life possible. And that life isn’t as my illanté, and it’s certainly not in Faerie.”
I stare at him. “So, this is it? Our last day then?”
Solemnly, he nods.
In a flat tone, wishing we could start the morning over and avoid the conversation, I ask, “How will I deliver the portrait to you?”
“Wallen will fetch it in a month, and then he will see to Gustin’s release.”
“Fine,” I say, “I don’t want to speak of it anymore. If our time is short, let’s enjoy what we have left and put the rest out of mind.”
Brahm’s expression eases with relief. He takes both of my hands and nods. “It’s my first Year’s End. Let’s celebrate it properly.”
19
BRAHM
Every time I look at Alice, I remember the flash of fire in Sabine’s eyes when she vowed to protect me at the cost of anyone and everyone. This must end—it shouldn’t have started.
I should have sent Alice away in the very beginning, escorted her to the bridge and never looked back. She would have found someone to take her in—someone suitable, a man who could have given her a future.
It’s difficult to believe we met only a little over a month ago. If I could turn back the hands of time… But, alas, that is not one of our gifts. No one needs that kind of power—we already possess too much.
Alice and I stand side by side, watching men climb wooden ladders to light the candles on the large tree they’ve brought into the square. There are hundreds of people around us, all bundled up in heavy cloaks, scarves, and hats, happily braving the cold for the sake of tradition.
We have traditions in Faerie as well, but they’re different. They’re based on revelry, and this is not. Year’s End is about family, community, and honest, heartfelt thanksgiving.
Around me, the humans are grateful for the year they were given, and they rejoice in the possibilities of the next.
Nearby, a man lifts his young son onto his shoulders to give him a better view of the candle lighting. The boy laughs, and the mother looks at the pair with an expression that makes me wish, for the first time in my existence, that I was human.
I glance at Alice, feeling more conflicted than I’ve ever been. Could I walk away from my life in Faerie and stay? Could we live here, together, away from the wicked queen, away from the memories and the scars? Would Alice truly want me?
Immediately, I dismiss the idea. Though Alice is safe from my mother’s manipulations and wrath here in human territory, I am not. I am a citizen of Faerie. It’s my lineage and my life. I have a duty to it, to my family, and to the people I save each night in the woods.
Knowing we must part soon, hating that night has already stolen the day, I savor this last gift of time.
But too soon, the lighting is over. The crowds begin to part. Many people cast me curious looks as they return to their homes with their loved ones. They know what I am, and some may even recognize me as Lord Ambrose.
“What comes next?” I ask Alice, crossing my arms to keep from reaching for her in the crowd.
“There is nothing else,” she says quietly.
We linger until the square is nearly empty. Soon, I imagine they’ll begin to snuff out the candles—a sad thought. But it would be a fire hazard to leave them burning all night.
Wallen waits with the horses and the sleigh I asked him to purchase for Alice’s use. The new coachman will take his post tomorrow, and the majority of the staff will arrive as well.
My valet has been strangely quiet the last few days, but we’ve all been on edge thanks to my mother’s unexpected visit. Hopefully things will return to normal now that she’s gone home.
“I’ll meet you back at the Gravely estate,” Wallen says as he hands me the reins and then mounts his waiting horse.
I offer my hand to Alice. She steps into the sleigh, and the hem of her new heavy white cloak brushes against the frame, sending snow falling to the ground. I slide next to her and pull the blanket over our laps.
“Are you warm enough?” I ask, my voice stiff.
She nods as she runs her hand over the thick woolen blanket.
At my silent command, the horses plod forward. The sleigh cuts through the snow, the bells chiming in the icy air. Clouds blanket the night sky, and before we arrive, snow begins to fall.
Alice interrupts the silence suddenly, making me think she’s been holding her tongue the entire ride and finally found the courage to speak. Staring ahead, she says, “I stood next to you tonight, pretending we belonged together. Wishing you were the human bandit you pretended to be.”
“Alice…”
“I decided it was cruel of you to make me believe you were someone you are not—someone I could care for. But I’m glad I got to know you outside the shadows. Just as glad as I am that I got to know you inside the shadows. I can’t regret the time we spent together, both with you as the bandit and Lord Ambrose, even if I hate that you’re pushing me away now.”
An apology seems too weak, too trite, so I stay silent.
“I wanted to save you…somehow.” She laughs a little. “You wouldn’t believe the thoughts I’ve had in the last few days. Solitude isn’t my friend.”
“Save me?” I ask thickly as we glide to a stop in front of the manor.
“Right the wrongs, face your mother. Avenge my sister and parents, step forward when no one else will.”
I turn to her sharply, hoping I misunderstood her though I know I didn’t.
She rolls her eyes with a smile. “Desperate, grand thoughts.”
A chill is on the breeze, and I glance around, on edge. We’re away from Faerie, but it’s never safe to utter those sorts of things aloud. “Let’s go inside.”
Wallen appears to take the reins, and we step into the foyer. Thanks to the fire in the hearth, it’s warmer than when we left—a fire that shouldn’t be
burning.
I narrow my eyes at the flames. “I didn’t light that.”
“Mr. and Mrs. Fletcher said they would return late this evening,” Alice says. “They must be back.”
Uneasy, I take Alice’s cloak.
“Alice,” I begin carefully, feeling we must broach the subject she brought up outside. “You know you must never—”
“You’ve returned,” a female voice says from the hallway, making us both swing around.
I shove Alice behind me, hoping to shield her from my mother even though it’s an impossible task.
The queen of West Faerie notes our position, and she slowly raises a dark eyebrow. Her impartial gaze lands on me, and then it slides to Alice.
Recognition shocks her, and she takes a step back as if she’s seen a ghost. And yet, she doesn’t look altogether surprised. Livid, she turns to me. “Where did you find her?”
I’m about to tell her it’s not Alice, but my magic stunts me. After all, she is Alice—just not our Alice.
“It’s not her,” I say instead. “That girl’s name was Eleanor. This is her sister, Alice.”
My mind races. How is Mother here? How did she know?
Anger kindles in my core when I realize it must have been Sabine. Foolishly, I trusted her with too much.
Narrowing her eyes, Mother studies Alice, likely taking note of her champagne blonde hair and sky-blue eyes. Behind her, Ian ambles into the room, a wicked look of satisfaction spreading across his face as his eyes travel between Alice, my mother, and me.
“How are you here?” I demand, finally recovering from the shock. “You can’t set foot onto human property without their permission—the magic won’t allow it.”
An ancient agreement was made with the local humans long ago, at the time the bridge was constructed. Our magic still obeys the bargain.
“This isn’t human property,” Ian says. “It belongs to you, and your mother is your sovereign. Therefore, she can come and go as she pleases.”
“I gave Alice the deed today,” I argue.
“It wasn’t properly notarized,” Mother says impatiently.
“Of course it was. I had Wallen—” I stop short, my mind reeling.
It wasn’t Sabine who betrayed us.
She smiles. “Yes?”
My tongue suddenly feels too thick, and I try to swallow. “Wallen?”
“He is a loyal subject who tells me when my son is stepping over the line. I’ve put up with your ridiculous nightly escapades, but your attachment to this girl is going too far. I’ve come to take care of it.”
“You knew?” I ask, aghast.
All this time, I foolishly believed I kept the Highwayman’s identity a secret.
She clenches her fist with prideful anger. “Is there anything that happens in my kingdom that I don’t know about?”
“There is not,” I say dully, coming to terms with it.
No matter how we try to defy her, we are helpless to right any real wrongs. We only do what she allows, until she doesn’t allow it anymore.
Mother looks back at Alice, her expression becoming slightly haunted. “The resemblance is unsettling, isn’t it? I suppose our Alice was, in fact, young Eleanor.”
“How dare you call that girl yours?” I demand. “You threw her away.”
“You sound like your father.” Her eyes spark with bitter memories. “He loved that ridiculous human more than his own offspring.”
She says it like she believes it, like it’s a shard of ice lodged deep in her heart, but I know it wasn’t true. I was old enough to remember, and though Father treated Eleanor like one of his children, he did not show her favor over us.
“Were you jealous of the girl?” I ask quietly. “Did you honestly believe Father valued her more than the children you gave him?”
“You are a fool if you don’t think he preferred her. If not more than you, his precious first-born son, then certainly more than your sister. Sabine understands that, even if you cannot.”
“And how many times have you told her that lie?” I ask, sickened at the thought of Mother poisoning Sabine’s mind—and disgusted with myself for allowing it to happen.
“Don’t pretend to care. You abandoned her, didn’t you?”
It’s an intentional barb, and it hurts just as intended. I close my mouth, too ashamed to respond.
Beside me, Alice stays still and silent, watching my mother as if she is a predator about to attack.
“Is she always this quiet?” Mother asks Ian when her attention returns to the girl.
“She’s never spoken to me.” Ian watches Alice with an eagerness that makes me want to throttle him. “But maybe she would warm up to me if I wore a mask.”
I move forward, but Alice grabs my wrist, silently begging me to remain calm. I stare Ian down, itching to make him bleed.
“I suppose I can grow accustomed to her presence,” Mother says. “You may claim her if you wish, Ian.”
“No.” I step fully in front of Alice.
Mother gestures around the entry. “She’s an untethered human on Fae property. You know the laws. If Ian wants her, he is well within his right to claim her as his illanté.”
“We’re not in Faerie!”
She smiles. “We’ve already been over this, Brahm. The magic loves loopholes. But I think you already know that.”
I must claim Alice first—it’s the only way.
“Brahm,” Alice begs, her blue eyes wide with fear. “Please.”
“I can’t do that to you,” I say desperately.
Ian walks forward, smiling like a greedy boy about to steal a toy. “I can.”
“Brahm!” Alice says urgently. “I choose you. I vow to be your illanté.”
My magic responds against my will, intrigued by the bargain despite my revulsion.
Mother laughs, taking delight in my turmoil. “You do realize this is a binding agreement, don’t you, Alice? As an illanté, you will be little more than a pet, lower than a servant. Bound forever and never able to marry or return to your life here in Kellington.”
Panic fists over my heart. “No!” I snarl.
“I agree,” Alice says quietly.
“Very well.” Mother smiles. “Brahm, I bind this girl to you.”
I feel the magic lock into place as the bargain is made complete, helpless to fight my queen.
Mother watches us with grim satisfaction, finding pleasure in my horror. Alice doesn’t realize she played right into her hand. By vowing to be my illanté, she used herself as my mother’s tool to wound me.
“It’s better this way, Brahm.” Mother smiles as she steps toward the door. “Your human knows her place—it’s time for you to learn it as well. Consider this your only warning—stop your ridiculous attempts at defiance. It’s becoming embarrassing.” With a sweep of her hand, she prepares to leave. “Come along, Ian.”
Rushing forward like a ferret, the count opens the door, letting in the winter chill. “Your Majesty.”
And with that, the queen of West Faerie slips into the night.
I’m left grasping for a solution, begging my magic to release Alice from her vow. But it doesn’t waver, and why would it? Though Alice became my illanté, she made the agreement with my mother.
Unable to look at her, I turn toward the hearth. I press my palms to the brick, racking my brain for an answer but finding none.
“You don’t know what you’ve done!” I finally cry, turning back.
“You know it was the only option.” Alice stares at the floor. “And I don’t regret it.”
“Yet,” I say darkly, rubbing my hands over my face. “But you will.”
20
ALICE
Brahm is angry with me, and understandably so. But his mother gave us no choice. She knew it; I knew it. The only one in the room unwilling to accept it was her son.
“I would rather be your illanté than Ian’s,” I point out.
“She couldn’t make you accept him.”
“Better me than you.” He shoves his hand through his hair, disheveling the dark strands.
He looks ridiculously handsome when he’s agitated, and I’m bound to him now. But not as an equal.
In one fell swoop, his mother destroyed us. This morning, I asked for this, but now I’m scared.
“How did you know you could initiate the illanté agreement yourself?” he asks. “How did you know it would work?”
“I didn’t, but I remembered the first day when I spoke with you in your foyer, when I started to make that vow—you cut me off. I wondered if I’d almost initiated it by accident.” My muscles begin to tremble, and I suddenly go lightheaded. “I need to sit down.”
I lower myself to the floor, pressing my forehead into my hands.
“Alice!” Brahm drops onto his knees next to me, taking my shoulders.
“I’m fine,” I lie. “I just need a moment.”
Like I weigh nothing, he scoops me onto his lap, holding me tightly. “Somehow, it will be all right,” he says, though it sounds like he’s trying to reassure himself. “We’ll find a way to break this.”
“You said there is no way,” I say quietly.
Brahm’s answering silence tells me it’s true. We stay like this, clinging to each other.
“There must be,” he says suddenly. “Otherwise, I couldn’t promise it.”
“Death,” I say darkly. “Yours or mine.”
It all happened too quickly. How long was his mother here? Five minutes? It was ten at most.
Proof, yet again, at how quickly your life’s path can change.
But this contact feels good—it dulls the whispers of panic that flutter at my mind.
And I want more.
I turn my head to look at Brahm, hesitating only a heartbeat before I place a testing kiss to his mouth.
Brahm goes still, his arms like iron around me.
“I’m terrified,” I admit softly. “But I’m grateful it’s you, and I’m glad today wasn’t our last.”
The Masked Fae (Royal Fae of Rose Briar Woods Book 1) Page 15