by Lexi Ryan
I giggle at the ceiling and roll to my side to look at my sister. “Remember the time Cassia snuck into the golden queen’s solstice celebration and that goblin stole all her hair?”
Jas laughs. “Oh gods, she could not pull off a bald head. And the wigs V bought her while it grew back . . .”
“Atrocious.” I sigh. If it makes me shallow and catty to talk about my cousins this way, I don’t care. They’ve made our lives miserable from the moment Mother put us under Uncle Devlin’s charge. They’re cruel girls who wish the worst for everyone but themselves. It’s hard not to delight in the occasional poor fortune of someone like that.
“I’m talking about creatures much worse than goblins,” Sebastian says. He knows goblins don’t scare us. They’re the messengers between the realms, the only creatures from either who are allowed to freely travel between them. We’re used to goblins. Even Madame Vivias has a house goblin who lives under the second-story stairs. He’s a greedy little thing who holds secrets ransom and has a disturbing collection of human hair.
“I know,” I say, because he’s right about what lives in Faerie. Evil fae, wild beasts, and monsters we’ve never imagined. There’s a reason our realms are kept separate—and maybe even a reason our mother left us behind.
In a lower voice he adds, “If a faerie from the shadow court got his hands on you . . .”
“Make no bargains or ties with the silver eyes,” Jas and I singsong together. Because, yes, the shadow fae are so dangerous that they teach children songs about them.
“I think we should risk it,” Jas says. “I know it’s dangerous, but it would be more dangerous if I had blind faith in the queen’s protection. I’m going to go with my eyes open, and I’m going to find Mother.”
“Do you really think you can find her in the middle of the masses that’ll show up for this thing?” I ask.
“It’s only one castle to search rather than an entire realm.” She shrugs. “And even if we can’t find our mother there, imagine what treasure we might find, Brie.”
So much of what I know about Faerie comes from the bedtime stories Mother liked to whisper as we drifted off to sleep.
Once upon a time, a golden faerie princess fell in love with the shadow king, but their kingdoms had battled for hundreds of years and her parents were sworn enemies of the king and his kingdom . . .
The rest of what I know about Faerie comes from legends everyone knows—pieces of truth and superstition that humans pass through the generations. One of those pieces is of the Seelie queen and the jewels she hoards.
“You’re crazy if you think her sentries will allow you anywhere near her treasures,” Sebastian says, spotting the smile that’s curved my lips.
“They won’t allow anyone,” Jas says, her words measured as she studies me. “I know only one person who could search her grounds undetected.”
Sebastian shakes his head. “Impossible.”
I smile. “But it would be so fun to try.”
He arches a brow at me then turns to frown at Jas. “You see what you’ve done?”
“She’s right,” I say. “I could do it.” And if the thrill that rushes through my blood at the thought of stealing from fae nobility is more satisfying than the prospect of finding my mother, so what?
“You two are forgetting one possibility.” Sebastian slides down the wall and onto the floor, props his elbows on his knees, and looks back and forth between us.
“What?” Jas says, annoyed.
His steady gaze meets mine, and I see the worry there.
I reach for Jas’s hand and squeeze. “He means that maybe Mom is dead. Maybe that’s why she never came back.”
Jas shrugs. “One can hope. It’s the only excusable reason for not returning for us.” She says it with such lightness, I might believe it if I didn’t know her so well. But I know Jas better than anyone, and she doesn’t hope that our mother is dead. No, she’d rather forgive the woman for abandoning us during our most formative years than accept that she won’t ever see her again.
Personally, I don’t hope. Not ever. Hope is addictive, and you start relying on it. In a world this cruel, I won’t be caught needing a crutch.
“It would be nice to know,” I admit. “But I’m still not convinced a visit to Faerie is in our best interests. We are humans. Even Mother, for all her romanticizing of the fae, warned that their realm was dangerous.”
Jas bites her lip, her eyes dancing. “But maybe—”
“I can’t decide right now.” I’ve put off sleep too long, and exhaustion falls over me like a heavy blanket. Yawning, I stretch my arms over my head before curling up on my side. “Someone blow out the candles. Or don’t. I don’t care. I’m sleeping.”
“Abriella! Jasalyn!” Cassia calls from upstairs. “There’s a bug in my room!”
“I’ll get it,” Jas says, squeezing my arm. “You sleep.”
“Thanks, sis,” I say without opening my eyes. I’m faintly aware of her leaving the room, the sound of her feet on the steps, then the soft puff of breath as the candles are extinguished.
“Good night, Brie,” Sebastian says softly.
“Good night,” I mumble, half asleep.
But then there’s a hand on my forehead, smoothing back my hair, and the tickle of lips against my ear. “Don’t go to the ball.”
I smile. It’s sweet that he’s so concerned. “Don’t worry. I want nothing to do with that place.”
Then a kiss. Lips on my forehead—there and gone in a breath.
I open my eyes to see Sebastian’s silhouette shrinking toward the cellar door.
And now I’m wide-awake.
* * *
The click of raqon clanging together gives me a stomachache. Each month, for nine years, Jas and I have counted out our money to give to Madame Vivias. Sometimes we’ve had enough. Sometimes we had more than we needed and headed into the next month with a head start. But too often we’ve fallen short. With each short month, all the following payments increased and the penalties compounded until, without what I could steal, it became impossible to scrape together what we owe.
“How much?” Jas asks, voice shaking.
“We’re seventeen hundred short.”
She flinches. I hate that she understands what this means for us. I want to save her from that. Maybe I need her to be the one who always believes in the best when I can’t. The idea of this world beating that out of her makes the pain in my stomach sharper.
“We have to go to Faerie,” she says softly.
I shake my head. “Sebastian’s right. It’s too dangerous.”
She swallows. “For humans, yes.” She lifts her gaze from the pile of raqon on the bed and meets my eyes. “But what if we attended as fae? We could buy potions for an elven glamour from Mage Trifen so we’d look like fae nobility. Wouldn’t that be an added protection?”
I drag my fingers through the coins; the tinking is a delicious torture. We’re killing ourselves to get out of this contract, but the hole sinks faster than we can climb. Something has to change. “Let’s do it,” I say, nodding. “Let’s try.”
She grins so widely I know I never had a chance of denying her. I love my sister, and if searching for Mother will make her feel that she’s done her part in obtaining our freedom, then we’ll make it happen.
“We’ll need dresses,” she says. “To fit in!” she adds at my cringe. She pulls a bolt of muslin out from under the bed and practically squeaks with delight. “I’ve wanted to make a dress for you forever.”
“Well, don’t get used to it,” I say. Still, I can’t help but smile.
“When I’m done with you, Prince Ronan won’t be able to take his eyes off you—whether you want him to or not.”
I strip down to my underwear and let her wrap me in the muslin she uses to plan our cousins’ new dresses. She has me pinned into a mockup of a dress when there’s a rapping at the door.
Three taps. Pause. Two taps. Sebastian’s signature knock.
&
nbsp; “Come in!” Jas and I call out in unison. Her hands pause their pinning at my waist.
We both turn to the door as it swings open. When Sebastian sees me, his eyes go wide and he throws a hand over his eyes. “Sorry, I . . . Sorry.”
“I’m decent.” I laugh at his pink cheeks. “Come on in.”
“Shut the door behind you,” Jas says, speaking low. “We don’t need Madame V coming in here.”
Sebastian gives a curt nod and steps into our room, shutting the door as requested. “You look really nice,” he tells me. The words come out strangled, as if he’s not sure how to give me a compliment. And why would he? I don’t know if he’s ever seen me in anything fancier than cleaning scrubs or the fitted black pants I favor for excursions into the night.
“Thanks.” I consider the thin brown fabric pinned around me. He’s just being kind. I don’t look nice. Just . . . awkward.
“Wait until you see it in the proper fabric—think a thin velvet the color of the deepest emerald,” Jas says, smiling up at me. “You’ll be stunning.”
It’s my turn to blush. I keep my head bowed so Sebastian won’t notice.
I can’t believe I’m actually excited about this gown. Jas knows how I feel about dresses and not being able to move freely, so she designed mine as loose-legged pants that’ll pass as a skirt when I stand. On top is a sleeveless fitted bodice that dips a little too low for my taste. It’s the kind of outfit our cousins would kill for—or at the very least whine and beg for until we gave it up.
“What’s the occasion?” Sebastian asks.
Jas resumes her task of fitting the muslin at my hips and sticks a pin in her mouth as she adjusts the seams, leaving me to speak.
Guilt rushes through me at the memory of Sebastian’s sweet kiss on my forehead last night, his request that we not go. “We don’t have a choice, Sebastian,” I say gently. “If there’s any chance—”
“You’re not serious.” Sebastian’s gaze swivels between me and Jas before landing on me. “But you hate the fae. Tell me how anything good can come of this. And don’t tell me you’re going to steal from the queen. I’ll tell you now, that’s a death sentence.”
“I’ll be careful.” I hate the disappointment in his eyes. “We have to do something.”
He stares at me, his jaw ticking and those wild sea eyes bright with his frustration. When I’m convinced he’s going to say more, he turns on his heel and storms out of our room.
I lunge forward to rush after him, but Jas grabs my arm. “The dress.”
“Help me,” I squeak desperately. I don’t know what I’m going to say to Sebastian. I’ve promised Jas we’ll go to the ball, and I won’t back out now, but Sebastian’s been my rock for two years and I can’t stand the idea of him being angry.
Jas works quickly to remove the right pins so I can step out of the thin cotton. I pull on a pair of slacks and a tank before rushing up the cellar stairs and into the courtyard that Madame V shares with Mage Trifen.
A shock of white in my periphery catches my attention. Sebastian’s sitting on the stoop just outside the courtyard, his big hands sharpening the tip of his staff.
My stomach always goes wild at the sight of him—not just a little flip-flop, but a full-on tumble down a hill that never ends.
Unlike my cousins, I was too busy surviving my adolescence to have crushes or worry about falling in love. But then Sebastian moved in next door, and the first moment I saw him, I felt something different . . . in my stomach. In my lungs. All along my skin.
The first time he smiled at me, it was as if my chest opened up, as if my heart were trying to reach out and grab him. Somehow I got around my awkwardness, we became friends, and I got to see him almost every morning. We didn’t spend a lot of time together—just enough that he became a bright spot—and his smile got me through my fair share of hard days.
He’s not smiling now.
I lower myself onto the stoop beside him, tucking my knees to my chest and wrapping my arms around my legs. I sit there for long minutes. He sharpens his staff to a deadly point, and I watch. We let the birds in the courtyard do all the talking.
I’m not good at feelings. I’m good at working and doing, and the only person I’ve ever been any good at sharing my emotions with is Jas. No one else has ever mattered enough to be worth the effort.
“I’m sorry,” I finally say. It’s not enough, and it only brushes against what I want to explain—that we’re running out of options, that I love how much he values our safety, that I’ll do everything in my power to come back home—if only because I desperately want to see him again.
Sebastian lifts his head, and those sea-green eyes seem to see right through me. He searches my face. “Do you have any idea how dangerous it is for humans in Faerie?”
“Sure I do, but—”
“So don’t go.”
My fingers itch to reach out and touch him. To stroke the side of his jaw or grab his muscled forearms. He’s never hinted that he has the same feelings for me that I harbor for him, so I’ve never allowed myself that sort of connection with him. I’ve never had the courage to risk rejection, keeping my feelings secret from everyone—even Jas. “If our debt gets much worse, we’ll never escape it. Even now, it would take . . .”
He squeezes his eyes shut. I know he hates that he can’t help us. He’s given us money before, but he’s only an apprentice. He doesn’t have the resources to make a dent in what we owe to Madame V.
When he opens his eyes, he studies me for a long time. So long that my cheeks heat. My skin tingles. My breath comes short as I wait for his soft lips to find their way toward mine.
“Just hold off a little longer,” he finally says. “Just hold off until I can help. Someday I’ll end your contract. I’ll free you from her.”
I know he believes it, but—
“I promise we’ll be safe,” I say. It’s not the promise he wants, so I stand and wipe my sweaty palms on my pants. I was foolish to think he might kiss me, foolish to focus on that when we’re arguing about something so important. “I have to go get ready for work.”
There’s something in his eyes I’ve never seen before. Desperation.
I walk away because I understand that emotion all too well.
I’ve taken three steps when he says, “What if he’s not what you think?”
I stop and turn back to see him stand. “What?”
“Prince Ronan. What if you end up . . . what if you realize you could like him?”
I shake my head. “Bash, I’m not going in hopes of becoming a faerie princess. I’m not that girl.”
“But if he isn’t what you expect . . . if he’s better than you’ve let yourself believe?”
I fold my arms. “Are you worried I’m going to fall for a faerie?” Are you worried I’ll forget you? Because I promise I won’t. I couldn’t.
“Abriella . . .”
“What?”
His throat bobs as he swallows. “Just promise me you’ll do everything you can to be safe. If you go to the ball, you’ll be under the queen’s protection, but if you wander off her land, that protection no longer applies.”
“I know how it works, Sebastian. I promise.”
With a single step, he closes the distance between us. He touches my cheek with two fingers and tucks an errant lock of hair behind my ear. I’m entranced by the sensation of his rough calluses against my skin.
A cackling laughter cleaves the air behind me. I spin around to see Cassia standing in the courtyard, her hands on her hips. Her blond hair is piled in carefully pinned curls on top of her head, and her breasts nearly spill from her mint green dress. “Here I thought you’d be crying and moaning, but you aren’t losing any tears over her at all, are you?”
What is she blathering about now?
Sebastian puts a comforting hand on my arm, and I just shake my head, prepared to ignore my cousin’s jealous nonsense.
“Now that little sister’s out of the way, you can finally s
core the hunky apprentice? Is that how this works?”
I roll my eyes. “What are you talking about?”
She grins, blue eyes bright. “You don’t know? You’re officially too far behind on your payments, and Mother has had enough. Bakken just took Jasalyn to the faerie traders.” She makes fists with both hands and then opens them dramatically. “Poof! Gone. Just like that.”
Chapter Three
I BARGE INTO MADAME VIVIAS’S OFFICE, sending the door slamming against the wall so hard the pictures rattle on the walls. “Where is she?”
My aunt doesn’t even startle. She puts down her pen and pats her head, adjusting the perfect bun of dark hair she spells to keep lustrous and thick. “Hello, Abriella. Congratulations on your freedom.”
“No,” I breathe, but I see it—the pile of ash on the corner of her desk, all that remains of a magical contract once it’s fulfilled. “Why?”
“I had to cut my losses at some point.” She folds her arms across her chest and leans back in her chair. “I could’ve done this months ago, but I was waiting to see if you could catch up.”
I feel like someone’s squeezed all the air out of me and I’m held in a grip so tight I can’t fill my lungs. I didn’t realize I was hoping that Cassia was lying. I didn’t realize I was . . . hoping.
Madame V waves a hand, as if this is all as trivial as who will prepare dinner, not about my sister’s life. “Your sister will be just fine in Faerie. I’m sure she’ll charm everyone there, just like she did here.”
“You’ve made her a slave. They’ll work her to death or torture her for their own amusement . . . or . . .” I can’t even say the rest, can’t begin to enumerate the other horrific possibilities. This isn’t happening.
“Don’t be so dramatic. It’s really the best future she could ask for, considering the hole you two have dug for yourselves. What was she going to do? Spend her life scrubbing floors like you? Maybe sell herself to men looking for cheap pleasure?”