Taken by Fae (Humans vs Fae Book 1)

by Charlotte Royalin

  "Sounds pleasant enough." He removed his leg, reaching down to grab me by my forearm and pull me up along with him out of our seated positions. "Now, I have business to attend to. Perhaps you can return at a better time?"

  "Business?" I was taken aback, how could he be conducting business when he was trapped? And I only had one more use of the bracelet!

  That's when I saw the cell unlocking from the other side. Oh, he must be going through constant interrogations.

  "Farewell." He grinned with a wink as I reached for the bracelet. Sucking in a breath to get ready for the small bite of pain that would come through as I transported from this space to the next. Before the door opened completely, the bead shattered.

  14

  I planted onto my bed face first. Thankfully, it was something soft I landed on instead of a hard floor from the position I was in when I left Vethari alone in his cell. My face was still burning with embarrassment. How could I allow myself to end up in such a situation? One that was unjustifiable as a lady.

  As I was about to turn over and rest on my back, I heard the clang of something metal falling onto the wooden floor. The surprising sound made me turn towards it, pushing myself up and glancing over my shoulder to spy the source of the sudden loud bang.

  The source, in fact, was standing right there in front of me, with a shocked look on her face. Her hand was still open and fingers extended from where she had been grasping a key.

  A key that allowed her access to my room as I had locked it to prevent this from happening. I wasn't gone all that long, but I should have thought of her coming to chase me after I left father. She had entered my bedroom without my express permission, which was one thing to be annoyed over. But she witnessed me appear out of thin air. This would bring an exuberant amount of problems.

  "M-Miss Rose?" Maria stuttered, taking a step back to distance herself even further from me. I swung my legs over the side of my bed awkwardly.

  "What are you doing in here?" I asked, trying to avert any attention from myself over to her. She paused to reach down and snatch up the metal key she dropped before standing straight. She clutched the object closer to her bosom as she looked at me with concern, possibly fright.

  "Your father sent me to retrieve you. He wants to speak with you. But you ... you appeared like magic," she stuttered, flinching as I forced myself to stand, unsure what direction this interaction would go.

  "Maria. Please, don't tell my father what you saw."

  Her brows furrowed at my comment, and I saw the long, hefty thought process speeding through her mind. "So, you admit it wasn't a figment of my imagination."

  Curse her and her calculating ways.

  "Maria, please, I am begging you." I stepped forward, and she retreated two steps back, getting ever closer to the closed door. If she wanted she might make a sprint for it and I doubt I'd be able to stop her.

  Her brows slackened from their intense focus, the wrinkles on the center of her face softening as she gave me what appeared to be a smile.

  She was finding my begging delectable.

  "I've always wanted to know what I could do to get you back for humiliating me the way you did."

  "Humiliate you? What have I ever done?!" I spoke a little too loud, shaking off the sudden rush that told me to shout at her. It wouldn't do well if everyone heard what we were talking about at the moment.

  "You don't remember? Oh, Rosie. You're more of an imbecile than I first believed you to be."

  My hands curled into fists at her words, my nails pressing into my palms as she continued.

  "You struck me and humiliated me in front of the lady of the house. The other servants of the house saw the mark you left, and even then, no one would defend me from your ire."

  Her chin tilted upwards in defiance, daring to stare down at me, "Yet here's the perfect opportunity. You managed to magic your way out of this room and back. Something that no normal person would do. And with how you and your mother love faeries and their ilk, I'm concluding that you are in cohorts with one of those evil creatures."

  My teeth clenched even tighter. She waited for me to reply, but I only stared daggers at her.

  Then it dawned on me.

  "If you were to say anything, I would disgrace you even more than you could dream." I dared to walk forward. She held her ground this time.

  "How, pray tell, do you intend to do that?"

  "I saw you and father. Together." This time the corner of her lips twitched, her smile fading. Good, that hit the right nerve.

  "I'm not sure what you mean. We're always together as we live under one roof. I serve him."

  I shook my head, controlling my voice that shook with frustration, "Maria. Don't play coy, you know well what I'm speaking of. In the kitchen, don't make me spell it out for you."

  Her wrinkles formed deeper now as her lips tightened, glaring in my direction. I felt like she would stab me if she had a blade in her hand rather than a key from the sheer amount of anger she exuded.

  "How dare you," she hissed, moving closer to the door, taking the handle into her hand.

  "Just remember that. If you were to say anything, I'll out you to the priests and you'll be locked away for adultery."

  "So would your father!" she hissed, swinging the door wide open and slamming it behind her.

  She was right. They would both be imprisoned for attempting to go against the sanctitude of marriage. My mother and father dedicating their life to one another. Marriage was taken rather seriously by the church.

  However, with father's contacts within the hierarchy of our city, Maria would be the one to receive the brunt of the punishment. I hope she knew that and would keep her tongue in her mouth for once.

  I sighed, allowing my shoulders to fall lax. That was far too close. If anyone else saw me reappear, I'm sure they would have run to the city guard right away. I'd be stripped of all my belongings, including the bracelet, and trapped in a cell underneath the city like Vethari.

  For the rest of my days, I wouldn't doubt.

  I could only hope right now. Hope that she didn't see how nervous I was with my accusations of turning her and father in. I could only pray that she wouldn't say anything that would give me away either.

  I wiped the sweat building up on my hairline off. I still felt hot from this stress, and from what Vethari made me feel. I shuddered at the thought.

  Vethari. My golden fae.

  I shuddered once more, though for a different reason.

  Knock. Knock. Knock.

  Oh Gods, what more? I jumped, spinning around, and shuffled towards the door to give it a brief crack. I peeked at the offender, only to spy James. I sighed heavily, opening the door up further to force a smile at him. "Hello, James! What would bring you up to my room?"

  He arched a grey brow at my jumpiness but didn't mention any more about it.

  "Lord Rose is waiting for you in his study. He wishes to speak with you after you rushed off so quickly."

  I tensed at the mention of speaking with my father again. Maria didn't say anything, did she?

  "Thank you, I'll speak with him right away."

  He bowed, waving his arm to the side, and allowing me to walk forth and pass him by to make way into the study room that awaited me.

  I knocked on the door frame before I took a step over the threshold that placed me into his study. He looked up from whatever document he was going over. The small circular glasses hanging on with all their might at the tip of his nose were removed as he folded them and set them to the side.

  Father cleared his throat and stacked his papers together.

  "Penelope, I've been waiting for you. Please," he gestured towards me, "Close the door so we can speak."

  The way he spoke was slow, particular. Something was not right.

  I curtsied and reached behind me for the handle and shut the door like he said. I stepped forward and sat in the two cushioned seats that were placed in front of his Hartwood desk.

  "Yes, Fat
her?"

  His meaty fingers tapped against the top of the wood. Though the air felt serious, his look was much softer than the one I had expected.

  "I've been meaning to talk to you, about a few things, but I've been so confined to my work, and you hurried off with such haste I haven't had the opportunity to discuss it at length. Do you realize I noticed something has been missing?"

  My heart palpitated as I gripped my dress in my hands underneath the desk, out of father's sight.

  "Whatever do you mean?"

  That's right, play coy.

  "Dear, daughter, I know many things. Word from Father Acaba has come to my ears that is troubling."

  There was no way he could know where I've been. Sweat beaded on my temples and across my hairline. Was it hot in here or was it just me, still?

  "Father, I don't understand what you mean."

  He sighed, leaning back in his chair as he gave me a quick once-over. His hands folded together on top of his belly, continuing to tap as he formed whatever thought he was trying to get off his chest. I wish he would hurry and tell me, instead of making me wait for the verbal berating I felt I would receive.

  "What I mean, Rosie, is with Alphonse leaving to the city of Awul we should celebrate your suitor's next stage in life. The legacy he will lead." I felt like a weight was taken off my chest. My shoulders fell back as I rested against the back of my chair, smiling wide. He didn't know about my quick visits into the cells, at least.

  "Oh, absolutely. That sounds like a wonderful idea. Are we going to have a party for him, then?" It'd been quite some time before the Rose Manor hosted a dinner event.

  The smile on my father's face grew even brighter, "Not anything so simple, dear. Because of Alphonse's lengthy stay at the Templar monastery, I'd like to commemorate your vows to one another."

  I blinked, my head cocked to the side as I gave a dumbfounded stare at father.

  "By that you mean ...?"

  "We will officiate your bond as husband and wife before he leaves."

  I took a few seconds to register what he was saying.

  "We will not be wed, right? Only officiate our vows? I know you mentioned it earlier but, Father, I feel like I'm not ready yet, and—"

  Father snorted, holding up a hand for me to cease my rambling. He scooted out from his chair and stood up, coming around the table to place a hand on my shoulder in a loving gesture.

  "Of course I mean to wed you both! It's about time you became his wife and learn your duties as his bride. No other man should have the temptation to sweep you off your feet while he's away for his years of training."

  I didn't even know what to say at this point. I looked up at my father, my head shaking back and forth. I knew what was coming from our very brief conversation as we ate, but I still wasn't ready to hear it.

  "No. Father, why would you spring this upon me in such a way? I thought we were given the freedom to wed on our own terms?"

  He gave my shoulder a final pat before placing his hands onto his hips, the look he gave me was sympathetic.

  "My dear, you're getting older now. You should have been wed years ago. And if he were to die in combat, what then? Who with any semblance of status would want to wed you at your age? If you were to marry, you'd be his widow and have his estate to yourself."

  "Excuse me?" I was taken aback by how blunt and upfront he was with his reasoning. I rose from my chair, my brows upturned in frustration. I didn't like what he was saying.

  "What's more important, Rosie? Finding your own suitor or being secure in your life. I won't have you wed to a farmer or blacksmith. The Bordeauxs are good blood, and there are few good men in Orléa, and fewer coming from good families."

  The kind tone of his voice changed, becoming much sterner and parental than he started.

  To become a widow, you could no longer choose your next suitor on your own. The family of the late husband would decide the next person for you to wed. Another member of the family unless they had no family to wed you to.

  Women of status were nothing more than items. It's one of the few things I envied with those whose families didn't have so much to lose or gain. They didn't have arranged marriages. They were free to love who they chose.

  "I refuse. You can't do this! You're my father, you should support my choice to wait!" My voice rose until I shouted as I got out of my chair and moved back from him.

  His gaze hardened on mine, but his was much more intimidating a stare than I could muster.

  "I am your father, and my word is law in this home. As your father, I decide what is best for you. Alphonse is already your suitor, and you've grown to be close friends over the years. There is no reason for you to refuse marriage with him."

  "Because I don't love him, that's why!"

  Father slammed a fist upon his desk, I jumped at his ferocity.

  "Marriage has nothing to do with love. He is your best friend, and that is more than anyone has ever gotten out of an arranged marriage. More than I got, and more than your mother had. You will do what I say, and that is the end of this discussion!"

  I didn't listen to another word that would come out of his mouth. I impolitely removed myself from his presence, opening the door and sprinting out of the room. I ran up the staircase, my father calling my name as soon as my feet hit the first step.

  Never has my father tried to force something upon me like this. There was one place I could hide from him, and it wasn't in my room.

  The door creaked open as I moved into the room and did my best to not slam it behind me with the surge of emotions coursing through my body. Mother was awake, looking me over, her weak muscles straining to lift her head. She looked confused and patted the bed space next to her in worry.

  "Rosie?" she called with sincerity, and I walked over. Instead of sitting on the bed, I fell to my knees and rested my face on my forearms atop the bedding at her side.

  Mother cooed as she patted my head, and I sobbed. I sobbed loud and hard, unable to fight back tears as I was so used to doing.

  "Father. He's so horrid!" I cried, sniffling as I turned my head up to look at her. Her shaky fingers found purchase on my chin, attempting to wipe the tears that streamed down my cheeks, though with little success. She looked so tired, her face and eyes so sunken.

  She had been looking better lately, but her health deteriorated even quicker. I'd never seen her looking so sick before.

  "He's trying to force me to wed Alphonse before he leaves to the city of Awul to begin his Templar training."

  Her dry lips cracked as she pressed them together.

  "Alphonse is your best friend. Why not marry him?" she whispered, struggling to form each word and get them out.

  "If we were to wed, I want it to be on our own terms. No one else's!"

  "If?"

  I bit my tongue.

  "I mean ..." I trailed off, trying to think of how to save my way from the conversation I was pushing myself into. I didn't want to seem rude, and as I wasn't a woman yet, the title coming after marriage, it wasn't my place to speak out against this.

  "Shush now, I understand." She took on a haunted look as her eyes watered while peering deep into my own. "It isn't enough to marry someone you can tolerate, not even a friend." She wavered, hesitating in her own right for a moment with a forlorn look in her eyes. "To lose love, or never know it, that is true pain."

  Mother coughed, taking her hand back and covering her mouth with the doily that was folded upon her lap. It only lasted a few seconds, and as she moved the white lacy cloth away, I spied little spots of blood.

  "Mother!" I yipped, my gaze bouncing back and forth between my mother's face and the blood.

  She shook her head, leaning back against her pillow as her lids closed halfway, looking exhausted. Still, a smile rested upon her lips as she let out a light laughter.

  "Love is just as important as duty, Penelope." I was taken aback at how well she said that. Before I could even ask what she meant, her lids slid shut. I c
ouldn't bother her further, she needed her rest.

  Is love just as important? Not more?

  I only sighed, keeping my head against her duvet and watching her as she slipped into slumber. Mother's words confusing me more than aiding me. There had to be something I could do to stop father from doing this to me.

  15

  Oh, that looks fabulous!"

  I glared at my reflection in the full-length mirror. I was in a spare room that was used for entertaining guests and casual lounging. The dress I wore looked hideous beyond belief. The bright unnatural looking blue, the plumes of lace that had been sewn to every inch of hem, and the puffy sleeves that hung below the shoulders.

  It was also two sizes too big and would need to be taken in by the seamstress that stood behind me.

  "I hate it," I groaned.

  She made me model a dozen different dresses within the last two hours, guaranteeing me that I would find one I would just die for. Yet I'd rather die than be seen in any of these in public.

  They were too dramatic, too flashy.

  There was no point in donning this much fabric so one would have to shuffle slow and stand stiff for hours. And in corsetry of all things.

  "That's such a shame! I had high hopes for this blue one, though I have many more pieces of couture, you must fall in love with at least one of these gowns."

  The blonde-haired woman stepped out of the room and down the steps to her many chests that were now strewn open and about the entryway of our home. I sighed, happy to at least be alone for once. This last week I'd been pinched and prodded with things for our surprise ceremony.

  The guests who were invited didn't realize the ceremony for vows Alphonse and I were to officiate for each other was to be an actual wedding. Then we too were supposed to act as if we didn't know it either. A bigger wedding party to be held whenever Alphonse returned from his training. If he returned.

  Speaking of which, my aforementioned fiancée was walking into the room as I stared at myself, the seamstress giving him a curtsy before rushing past. Alphonse leaned against the wall, arms crossed with a serious appearance on his face. Lost in thought.