The Masked Fae (Royal Fae of Rose Briar Woods Book 1)

by Shari L. Tapscott

  “You want to marry me?” I whisper, sure I must have misunderstood.

  Brahm takes my hand. “We’ll live in Faerie for a time, until we decide to begin a family, and then we’ll leave. We’ll go somewhere no one knows us. I’ll live like a human, disguising myself.”

  “And what about your sister and brother?”

  Pain crosses Brahm’s face, and he looks down.

  “You can’t leave them,” I say softly. “You would regret it your entire life—it would haunt you.”

  “This wasn’t my choice, Alice. I tried to let you go. You know I did. But now that we’ve been tethered, I know my limits. I cannot stay away from you, not when I’ve come to love you like I do.”

  My fingers tighten around his. “Say it again.”

  Brahm brings a hand to my face, gently brushing his thumb over my cheek. “I love you, Alice.”

  I close my eyes, savoring the confession. When I open them, I find him watching me, waiting for my answer.

  “I will marry you, Brahm. But we will remain here, keeping our vows secret so that you may remain close to your brother and sister.” I look down. “Let people believe I’m your mistress—I don’t care. We’ll know the truth, and that’s enough.”

  “If my mother finds out, she’ll kill us both,” Brahm warns.

  “Then she mustn’t find out.”

  “And if you decide you want children?”

  “We’ll cross that bridge when we reach it.”

  Brahm nods, letting me make the choice. He raises my hand and slides the ring over my finger. It feels like a promise, solid and substantial. Not a leash, not a shackle—a gift of love, freely given.

  “It’s not as lovely as your grandmother’s,” he says regretfully.

  I admire the way the twisted silver gleams. “It’s perfect.”

  Stepping back, Brahm takes my hand. “We’ll leave as soon as we return to my estate.”

  25

  BRAHM

  “Have you gone insane?” Sabine hisses, looking over her shoulder to ensure we’re alone. We’re in her sitting room—I’m not sure who she thinks could be lurking.

  “Probably, but it doesn’t matter because I’ve made up my mind.”

  She shakes her head, looking more scared than angry. “If Mother even had an inkling of what you have planned—”

  “Are you going to tell her?” I ask needlessly, mostly to make a point.

  My sister’s eyes flash. “Of course I’m not.”

  “Then how will she find out?”

  Sabine crosses her arms. “I understand, all right? You’re not like so many of our people—you’re chivalrous, a man of honor, and I know why you’re doing this. But…”

  “But what? Do you want me to change who I am? Should I become a lecherous pig like Ian? Turn Alice into a—”

  “Brahm,” Sabine interrupts, pulling a disgusted face as she holds up her hand. “I do not want details about your relationship. Fine. Marry the human—but be quick about it. If you intend to return, you had better not linger outside Faerie. I’ll do everything I can to keep Mother away from your woods for as long as possible.”

  “Thank you,” I say heavily. “Sabine, I—”

  “Yes, yes. You are so grateful and are blessed to have me as a sister,” she says, eyeing me like I’m a nuisance. “I’m aware.”

  “I am.”

  Anxiety creeps across Sabine’s features once again. “Please—please—be cautious.”

  “I will,” I swear.

  Suddenly, she chokes back a sob. From the horrified look on her face, I believe it’s a surprise to us both. Swiping at her eyes, she growls, “I swear, if Mother tries to hurt you, I’ll fight her.”

  “Sabine,” I say slowly, at a loss. Never in my life have I seen my sister cry. “Don’t say such things.”

  “I would though. I’m stronger than she is now—I know it. And you and Drake are all I have. If she so much as tries to lay a finger on either of you…” She blinks furiously, looking as angry as I am startled.

  With a sigh, I step forward, awkwardly hugging her.

  I’ve taken her strength for granted—and now her shield is cracking.

  Even Sabine can only take so much of Mother’s wickedness. She’s been crushed under her heel, refusing to break. But no one is invincible.

  “We’ll return as soon as possible,” I promise her.

  Nodding, she struggles out of my arms, brushing the front of her gown as if it might be wrinkled. Avoiding my eyes, she regains her composure. “But seriously, Brahm. A human? Thank goodness you’re not the heir. Can you even imagine?”

  I laugh. “You’re far more suited for the throne than I am.”

  Finally, she looks back at me. “Have a safe trip.”

  I pause by the door as I leave. “You have a good heart, no matter how you try to hide it. You know that, don’t you?”

  “Why are you still here?” she demands, turning away as she begins to cry again. “I don’t want to look at you anymore.”

  I smile as I step out, but when I shut the door, I’m hit with a wave of guilt.

  Our family is broken, and I have no idea how to fix it.

  There’s freedom in the human lands. No one knows me here, and when I cloak myself in illusion, most can’t even tell I’m one of the Fae. A few people give me questioning looks, likely suspecting. But when their eyes move to my ears, they look away as if perplexed.

  We traveled through Kellington, across the ferry that goes to Thornborough, and now we’re on our way to Valsta’s capital city of Davon. We should arrive in just a few hours.

  We’re only a few days from the boundary of West Faerie, but it’s far enough. Not many of my people venture this deep into human territory, and our chance of being detected has gone down dramatically.

  “I have a question,” Alice says across from me in the carriage, huddled under a thick fur blanket.

  I watch the scenery pass beyond the window, intrigued by the snow. “All right.”

  “Back in the garden, when you made the ring for me, you said a marriage vow is sufficient without the added binding magic, especially amongst people in West Faerie. What does that mean?”

  I sit back, giving her my full attention. “Long ago, my distant grandmother tricked the wealthy king of East Faerie into creating a betrothal between her daughter and his son, saying that the princess was with child thanks to the unscrupulous nature of the eastern prince.

  “The king of East Faerie, being an honorable man, agreed to the marriage and promised a large sum of money as an apology for the heartbreak and shame the queen and king of West Faerie had to endure. After the agreement was made binding, however, he learned that the princess was not carrying his grandchild—or any other child,” I explain. “Before the prince left his land to join our family, his father cursed him so that all his descendants, and anyone under their rule, would be forced to speak nothing but truth.”

  “So, your family has always been rather awful.”

  I smile at her teasing. “I think that sums it up well enough.”

  “And if you lie?”

  “It’s painful. Excruciating, really. And we’re ill for days.”

  Alice thinks about it for several seconds, and then a mischievous smile spreads across her face. “So, if I were to ask you something, you can truly do nothing but answer me honestly?”

  “Or avoid the question,” I say with a smirk, doing just that.

  Looking delighted, Alice bites the corner of her lip, likely trying to decide what she’d like to ask. Then she nods to herself and leans forward, resting her elbows in her lap.

  “Were you attracted to me when you first saw me stranded in the middle of the road? Did I make your heart flutter?”

  I match her stance by leaning forward. “Yes.”

  She grins, delighted. “Did you want to kiss me that night when we stood so close?”

  I smile. “Yes.”

  Her expression becomes serious. “Did you feel
bad for deceiving me?”

  I begin to tell her that I did, but my stomach tightens, and I pause, forced to think about it. “Yes and no.”

  Alice’s eyes widen with question.

  “I liked getting to know you behind the mask, without my title or my identity getting in the way. For the first time, I was no one—and you liked me anyway. But I did feel guilt for deceiving you, yes.”

  Accepting my answer, Alice nods. Then her face brightens once more. “Did you think you’d ever fall in love with a human?”

  “No.”

  “It would be easier if I were a Faerie,” she says.

  “Yes—but I like you exactly as you are.”

  Slowly, her hand goes to the side of her head. “Do you think my ears are ugly?”

  I snort out a laugh, unable to stop myself. “No, I think your ears are very appealing.”

  “And the rest of me?”

  I cross the carriage, claiming the spot on the bench next to her. I take her waist, sliding her toward me, pleased when she comes eagerly. “Everything about you is appealing, Alice.”

  She lets out a satisfied sigh when I kiss her. Then suddenly, she tilts her head back. “You said I was uncomfortable.”

  “That wasn’t a lie,” I laugh.

  Her eyes flash with irritation, but when she tries to pull away, I clutch her closer. Moving my lips to her ear, I say, “You made me want things I didn’t think I could have.”

  “You can have them.” She turns to face me. “You can have me.”

  I nod, studying her as I brush her hair back from her face. “Soon.”

  Alice lays her head on my shoulder and tugs the blanket over us both.

  I drape my arm around her back, and we travel the rest of the way to Davon like this, our fingers twined together, in peaceful silence.

  Beyond the carriage window, farms dot the snow-blanketed countryside. Red-painted barns contrast the never-ending white, and smoke rises from cozy farmhouse chimneys. Cows and horses stand in the snow, looking impervious to the weather.

  “I’ve never seen anything like it.” I rest my cheek against Alice’s head.

  “You don’t have farms in Faerie?” Alice asks.

  I shake my head. “Not like these. Many grow gardens, and some keep chickens or ducks for eggs. But most of the meat that graces our tables is wild, and many refuse to eat it at all.”

  “Have you ever been this far away from Fae territory?”

  “No,” I answer. “We don’t generally venture deep into the human kingdoms. We have no business there, and we’re not particularly welcome.”

  The farms grow smaller the closer we get to the capital, and the houses become closer together. They group in little villages that outskirt the city, and eventually, large buildings begin to dot the roadways. We pass taverns, guild houses, inns, and craftsmen’s shops.

  As we venture deeper into Davon, cottages are replaced with tall boardinghouses that house many families of meager income and even larger, gated townhouses for the wealthy. More people travel the busy streets—men driving canvas-covered wagons, bringing produce from the warmer regions into the city; carriages, both public and private; and men and women on horseback, braving the gray sky and the chill. Bundled-up children run on the streets, their scarves flying in the air behind them, and people bustle between shops.

  “So many humans,” I murmur.

  Alice laughs. “You do tend to run into many of them in human cities. Strange how that works.”

  A grand cathedral stands in the distance, its medieval parapets towering over the rooftops. At the top of the hour, the bells ring, scaring a flurry of blackbirds into the air.

  The carriage comes to a slow, bumping stop near the snowy entrance of a public garden. Shifting from under the blanket, I move to the opposite side of the carriage just before Darren opens the door.

  “We’ve arrived in Davon, my lord,” Darren informs us, letting in the afternoon chill. “Where would you like me to take you?”

  “The city magistrate’s office,” I tell him.

  He bows his head. “I’ll ask for directions, and then we’ll continue.”

  The door closes, and Alice shivers across from me, pulling the blanket over her shoulders. “It’s cold.”

  A few minutes later, we continue our trip through the city, eventually entering an old section with large, stately buildings and meticulously planted landscapes. Bare-limbed trees grow encased in small, circular iron fences, and boxwoods line the streets, cut into spherical topiaries.

  The shops in the square boast glass windows with striped awnings over their entries. Judging from the people on the streets, only the well-to-do can afford to shop in this district.

  We come to a stop in front of a large stone building. The painted sign that hangs from the eaves states it’s the local magistrate’s office.

  “I think we’re here,” I tell Alice.

  A nervous smile flits across Alice’s face, letting me know I’m not the only one feeling anxious.

  “You’re sure about this?” I ask her quietly.

  Her smile is bright, and she clasps my hand. “Certain.”

  Darren opens the door, and this time, we step onto the icy street. Alice adjusts her cloak around her neck, trying to block the chill, and then she takes my arm as we start up the slick front walk. It looks like the snow was scraped away after the last storm, leaving a thin layer that melted during the warmer afternoon hours. Now there’s a thin sheet of ice, making it more treacherous than walking through a drift of snow.

  We’re almost to the door when Alice slips. She grabs my arm to keep from falling, her feet sliding under her. I catch her, nearly going down myself, and we laugh like fools, earning a few disgruntled looks from the snobbish humans passing by.

  Composing herself, Alice straightens. Her eyes sparkle, and her cheeks are pink from the cold. “It’s slick.”

  “I noticed.”

  I open the heavy wooden door, and we’re met with warm air. A woman at a receptionist’s desk looks up, smiling serenely. “Good afternoon. How may I help you?”

  The room smells like spices, apples, and parchment, with a hint of coal mixed in as well. The first fragrance likely comes from the small pot simmering atop the stove in the corner.

  “We’re here to see the magistrate,” I say. “We would like to be married.”

  The woman’s eyes travel between us. Her eyebrows raise in question as her gaze first travels over our clothes and then moves to the carriage that waits on the street.

  I imagine she’s wondering why people of our station would rather marry quietly instead of having a large society wedding, with all the fuss and fanfare that comes with such an event.

  But, proving to be professional, she quickly dismisses her confusion and opens a cabinet next to her chair, thumbing through several folders until she produces a piece of parchment. “You’ll need to fill out the license, but don’t sign it just yet.” She nudges a quill and inkwell to the edge of the desk. “The magistrate is out, but I expect he will return soon. You are welcome to wait.”

  She then excuses herself and walks into the back room.

  Alice stands next to me as I begin to fill out the license, saying nothing when the quill trembles subtly in my hand.

  When I’m finished, we stare at the parchment together.

  All that’s left to do is sign.

  26

  ALICE

  I let my fingers drift next to Brahm’s, offering assurance as we wait. He looks nervous but eager, mirroring the emotions swirling in my own heart.

  A few minutes later, the woman returns, taking the parchment and scanning it to make sure Brahm filled it out correctly. Satisfied, she places it next to a ledger.

  “Would you like tea?” she asks. “Or if you’re hungry, there’s a nice café on the next block. I expected Magistrate Rodgers to return by now. He must have been delayed.”

  Brahm turns to me, letting me decide.

  Even though I do
n’t think I could eat right now, the idea of passing the time in the small, warm room is unnerving. “Maybe we’ll browse a few shops and then return.”

  The receptionist nods politely, and we walk onto the icy entry once more, this time passing without incident.

  We step into the first business—a tea shop that smells like rosemary and lemons. I browse the selections, intrigued by blends I’ve never seen offered in Kellington, such as lemongrass with rose, mint, and chamomile. There are exotic black teas as well, costing more per ounce than silver, from faraway places I’ve never even heard of.

  The next shop is a working gallery, with a blown glass artisan creating his delicate figurines in the back of the room. We watch him for a while, and then we move to the next business—a shop that carries nothing but stationery.

  Brahm pauses by a map of the Valsta Algora Alliance that hangs on the wall, and another customer strikes up a conversation about trade routes with him—something I’m not sure a prince of West Faerie knows much about, though Brahm carries his end of things well enough.

  I smile as I walk through the aisles, taking in the assortment of hand-pressed papers, many of them flecked with tiny, dried flower petals or herbs. The shop carries dozens of quills and every imaginable color of sealing wax. There are envelopes, hand-painted cards, and decorative cork stamps that are designed to press into ink-soaked pads.

  I pause near the counter, standing in front of a case filled with paperweights. Many of them are little animal figurines made of pewter—small rabbits, cats, a few owls, and a dove. Others are glass and brass, and a few seem to be made of silver.

  “Would you like to see anything closer?” a man with a thick mustache asks, looking eager for a sale.

  “I’m just browsing,” I say, and then my eyes catch on a letter opener next to a pewter rooster. I gesture to it. “Is that copper?”

  The man pulls it from the case. “It is, yes. The scrollwork is quite exquisite.”

  That may be, but that’s not what snared my interest. It’s long, with one sharpened edge and a narrow, pointed end.