Trapped

by Jessica Lynch

  Is it weird that she immediately guesses that Rys is a guy? I was careful not to use his pronoun until I was sure she was someone I could ask for help. Just because Grimly sent me her way, it didn’t mean she has all the answers.

  Or maybe I’m just jealous that Rys purposely sent me to a joint owned by a woman that looks like her.

  Welp. Here goes nothing.

  “Rys.”

  She doesn’t even blink. Something tells me that, like the strange little man, she already knew that.

  “And you say that you’re to meet him here?”

  “That’s what he said.”

  Hildy glances around the crowded room. The noise level has picked up, but she eyes the crowd as if she’s just as suspicious as I suddenly am. “It’s not a good idea for you to wait down here. Rys would’ve known that. Come. Let me get you a room.”

  I shake my head. “I don’t have any money.”

  “Don’t you worry about that. You belong to Rys. He’ll be coming for you and, when he does, I’ll put it on his tab.”

  I don’t know what’s worse: that she assumes I belong to anyone, including Rys, or that he frequents this place enough that he actually has a tab.

  Before I can try to argue with her, she steps away from the edge of her bar. Hildy flags down a brownie from somewhere behind me and immediately instructs the creature to show me to my room.

  And, well, I let her.

  I’m tired. I’m hungry. I’m worried that something happened to Rys, and I really, really don’t like all these eyes on me.

  Besides, Siúcra guards have a habit of visiting this place. Do I really want to hang out down here and hope that none of them recognize me?

  Not even a little.

  17

  I might’ve gaped at how gorgeous she was, but I barely bat an eye at the brownie as she scurries over to me and tells me in her high-pitched voice to follow her upstairs. From my time locked away in Lord Veron’s manor, I grew familiar with this type of domestic fairy. He had a whole bunch of the females working for him, cleaning my room, and tending to me while he was still trying to convince me to sleep with him.

  She leads me up a set of stone steps, so worn and so old, there’s a dip in the middle of each stair. I can feel the history, the years that have passed, the countless visitors that must’ve stayed the night in this inn.

  Faerie is such an alien place. On the one hand, it feels like you’ve been thrown back in time. Between the tents and the small wooden inns with the thatched roofs, candlelight, and the fashion when it comes to some of the creatures, I feel like I’m in Medieval Times. The weapons, too. The fae guards and soldiers all carry swords, not guns, and the idea that a queen—now a king—rules this place is so… so feudal.

  But then there’s the magic.

  In so many ways, the magic inherent to Faerie makes this place so much more advanced than back home. No electricity, no iron, but the portals? It’s not like vacuum tube-travel out of the Jetsons of Futurama or something, but it’s close. Of course, it’s not a given. Only the most powerful fae—like Rys—can whip them up at will.

  It’s the same thing as a Seelie’s faerie fire. No wonder Captain Helix was so shocked and angry when I used it against Dusk. It’s supposed to be impossible for a human to wield at all, but not too many fae can conjure it in the first place.

  Rys can.

  It’s so funny. The guards thought they were taunting Rys by putting me in the cell across from his. Maybe they were, but it was the best possible thing they could’ve done for me.

  Ha. Those dicks deserve whatever’s gonna happen to them when the captain realizes there’s been a breakout.

  Too bad I won’t be there to see the looks on their faces. Especially when Helix comes down on them for being traitors.

  It would almost be worth it.

  “Mum Hildy wants you in this room,” chirps the brownie, stopping outside of the first door at the top of the stairs. “If you need anything else, come down and ask.”

  “I will.”

  She curtsies low, then scurries back down again. I feel a teeny twinge of guilt for not thanking her but, after the way the gnarled, little man reacted earlier, it’s better to just take the help.

  I don’t know what to expect when I push in the door to my room. The first thing I see is a roaring fire set deep in a fireplace. The air in Faerie is always suffocatingly warm, but there’s something about these flickering flames. The tips are orange, the body of the flame a rich, forest green, with the embers glowing a dark, midnight blue. It lends a soft light to the cozy room, and the temperature is perfect.

  The bed is about three times the size as the cot in my jail cell. The frame is wooden, the accents—four bedposts and a headboard—made of a shiny metal that might possibly be gold. A burgundy quilt lays stretched across the mattress top.

  I run my hand across the top. It’s incredibly soft.

  Whoa.

  I cross the room, checking out the facilities. It’s not as compact as the rectangular shower box in Siúcra, but a clawfoot tub that is a smaller version of what Veron had at his palace.

  I don’t know exactly how money works in Faerie, but a night in this room has got to be worth a ton of gold pieces.

  My guilt only grows when I think about how I won’t be able to pay for my stay. Sure, Hildy waved away my worries when I mentioned them, but that’s only because I mentioned Rys.

  Does she know him? That would explain it.

  Leaning my hand against the bedpost as I take in the room again, I frown.

  Just… how does she know him?

  Jealousy is a hard ball deep in my gut. I swallow roughly, hating the way it seems to twist my insides. It’s like when I found out he thought he already found his mate all over again.

  It’s my problem. I know. I’ve always had a hard time when it came to controlling my jealousy. My whole life I’ve been a bit of a people pleaser, eager to agree if it saved me the time and the trouble of arguing with someone. I have to really be pushed before I let my anger get the best of me. Unfortunately, being jealous over a man is one of the biggest buttons I have.

  Hildy is a knock-out. She might be sweet on the prison guards who visit her inn, but the way her whole friendly attitude changed when I mentioned I was looking for Rys? There’s something there, something I’m missing.

  And I don’t like it.

  Ugh. If I wondered about just how deep my feelings for Rys ran, I might’ve just found my answer. If I didn’t care about him, I’d be able to brush aside my curiosity when it came to his relationship with the barmaid. But I can’t.

  Just like I can’t stop myself from thinking about the half-human woman that Rys used to love.

  Still loves?

  My hand squeezes the knob, and I let out a sharp breath.

  Can’t worry about that now. Rys was right when he said that we had to get out of Siúcra first, then deal with everything else. And I know he means the whole thing with humans being in trouble and some of the other fae plotting against the Summer King, but now that I’m basically stuck here, I have to deal with that, too.

  I… am not looking forward to it.

  Even though I wasn’t really tired, the lure of that luxurious bed proved too difficult to resist.

  First, I sat down. When hours passed and I still hadn’t heard any news about Rys, I kicked off my boots and laid down on top of the blanket. I don’t know how long I lasted before I fell asleep, but I jolt awake when someone knocks briskly against the wooden door.

  It takes me a second to remember where I am. I’m used to waking up in a narrow cot, peeking through the bars on my cell. This is so different—I’m actually comfortable for the first time in ages—that I’m confused. My immediate reaction is to reach for my boots and get ready to defend myself.

  That’s when I see the strange fire. The wide bed. The glass sconces and pretty decorations.

  I’m in the inn. I’m waiting for Rys.

  And there’s someone at
my door.

  “Hello?” My voice comes out as a rasp. I clear it, then try again. “Um. Is anyone out there?”

  “Mum Hildy sent me to retrieve the human. Someone’s down below looking for you.”

  It has to be Rys.

  Finally.

  My boots are hanging from my hands by their laces. I sit on the edge of the bed, jamming my feet into them as quickly as possible. I straighten my leather jacket, patting the back of my hair. It’s probably a disaster from the pillow.

  Oh, well.

  I pull the door in, offering a smile to the brownie waiting in front of my room. I swallow another thanks, telling her instead, “I’m going down now.”

  The domestic fairy nods in agreement. She starts to lead me back down the stairs. I’m too excited to match her pace. I dance around her, hurrying down toward the main floor of the inn.

  I immediately spot the fae sitting with his back to me. I’d know that hair anywhere.

  I head toward the table, calling out when I’m only a few feet away. “Rys. You’re here.”

  As if responding to the overwhelming relief in my voice, the Seelie male turns in his seat.

  I stop dead in my tracks.

  Um. That’s not Rys.

  Now that I can see his face instead of just his hair and his build, it’s obvious that he’s the same type of fae as Rys. He’s got the same bronze-colored skin that seems to emit a soft, golden glow inside of the gloomy inn; he’s brighter than the candlelight, and almost as hypnotic.

  His features are perfect, even if they’re twisted in a look of distaste. Too perfect—there’s no scar. Definitely not Rys.

  I recognize him, though. From the way he looks down his nose at his surroundings to the small dent in his chin, I’ve seen his face before. What has me standing stock-still, unable to do anything—not to move, not to shout, not to run upstairs even—except stare at him in fright? Is the fact that, any time I’ve seen that regal-looking fae, it’s been with prison bars between us.

  Saxon.

  He waves his hand at the only open seat remaining at his small table. “Take a seat, Elle.”

  I stay where I am. Mainly because I still can’t believe I went through that entire escape only to have my shitty luck bring me right to an inn that a Siúcra guard frequents, and partly because I’m scared all the way to my bones that it wasn’t just luck.

  Something tells me that this was planned.

  Saxon sighs when I don’t move, then lowers his voice. “You have nothing to fear from me. Please. You’re already drawing attention.”

  He’s not wrong. From the woman behind the bar, to the pair of dwarves huddled in the corner, and the group of… imps? They might be imps… everyone is watching us. I’d like to think it has to do with how he’s clearly the only fae inside of the inn, but no. Once again it’s the clueless human who’s catching everybody’s gaze.

  Great.

  You have nothing to fear from me… The fae can’t lie. Unfortunately, that doesn’t mean that everything they say is the truth. Jesus, I really hope that I can’t believe him this time.

  Because I can’t see what else I can do, I slide into the seat opposite of Saxon’s.

  “I’m not going back to jail,” I say, pitching my voice as low as possible while hiding just how absolutely scared I suddenly am.

  I’m bluffing. Totally bluffing. If Saxon wants to bring me back, nothing is stopping him. He’s the law in this place and, I’m betting, beneath his cloak, he’s got a sword hanging off his hip. He’s stronger than me, faster than me, and has magic.

  I’m screwed.

  Chin up, Helen. Ride the bluff out and, if it doesn’t work, at least you tried.

  “That’s nice. I have no intention of bringing you back.”

  Well if that doesn’t take the wind out of my sail, then I don’t know what does. I puff out my breath, sinking into my seat. “Um.” The word ‘thanks’ is on the tip of my tongue but, before I let it slip, I think again of the little man who seemed delighted that I thanked him. Just in case, I swallow it back. “Then I’m glad we’re on the same page.”

  “Indeed.”

  “Okay, well, if you’re not here because… you know, then what are you doing here?” The brownie said one of the Seelie was asking for me. Was it Saxon? I don’t see Rys or any other fae inside the inn… “What do you want from me?”

  Before he can give me an answer, a shadow falls over our table.

  “Compliments of the house. Here you go.” Hildy sets two glass mugs down, one for Saxon and one for me. Her seductive smile only highlights how gorgeous she is. “Drink up.”

  As she turns away from our table, she gives a swish of her hips that absolutely catches my eye which is saying something since it’s a stupid idea to take my attention off of Saxon for even a second. Couldn’t help it, though. Hildy’s waist is trim, her ass tight and round, and the skirt of her dress swishes, too.

  But that’s not the only other thing that moves.

  “Oh my—”

  “Don’t stare,” Saxon says conversationally. “The huldra won’t like it.”

  I don’t know what a huldra is, but I know what I saw. “She has a tail.”

  It looks like it belongs on a cow, too. It’s really long, super skinny, and it has a tuft of fur at the end that’s a match for Hildy’s hair color.

  Huh.

  Hildy. Huldra.

  Too bad I don’t have any clue what a huldra is.

  In answer to my obvious surprise, Saxon explains, “All huldra do. Until they find their ffrindau and the tail falls off. It’s rude to mention it beforehand.”

  Ffrindau… now why does that word sound familiar? I swear I heard it before, though maybe I’m just imagining it. It sounds like ‘friend’ but not, and the Seelie says it so matter-of-factly, that I just go along with it.

  What else can I do?

  I can’t believe this is happening. After being locked up in the fairy prison for all those weeks, I’m sitting in an inn run by a babe with a tail, talking to one of my jailers who sounds like he’s chatting about the weather instead of turning me in for breaking out of my cell and escaping.

  This can’t be happening, only it is—and, Jesus, I need a drink.

  Grabbing the mug nearest to me by the bottom, I pull it so that it’s perched on the edge of the table. I peek inside. I don’t know exactly what I’m expecting, but I blink a couple of times to double-check that I’m not seeing things.

  It’s… pink. And, honestly, after everything I’ve seen since I’ve been in Faerie, that isn’t even a little surprising. A pink drink? Sure. Okay. But a pink drink that sparkles like flecks of glitter float on the skim?

  Leaning over the mug, I sniff it.

  Why am I not surprised that it smells like a mixture of cotton candy, apples, and something super boozy?

  Oh, well. Bottom’s up.

  I’ve barely lifted the mug when Saxon clears his throat. Looking over the brim, I notice that he’s shaking his head just enough for me to catch onto it.

  His voice stays low and conversational as he murmurs, “I wouldn’t drink that if I were you.”

  I set the mug down. “Why not?”

  “That’s fairy wine. A gentle drink for one like me, but the lower races tend to drink themselves into a stupor whenever they get their grubby paws on it. You? A full human wouldn’t even last that long. One sip and you’d fall into a deep sleep, lucky if you woke up again.”

  I really, really wish he was making that up. Unfortunately, there’s no chance. Every word Saxon tells me is true.

  That’s… not good.

  “Why would she serve me this?” I wonder out loud. “Everyone knows I’m human.”

  “That’s exactly why. The market has set up camp two villages over—”

  “Let me guess,” I sigh, resigned. I should’ve known that something like this would happen. “I’d fetch a pretty penny there.”

  Been there. Done that. Never ever want to do it again.


  The nix—the mermaid-like water sprite I met at the Faerie market—mentioned how her trip to the auction block was her third. The redcap who ran the bidding told me I should be happy that a Seelie noble had paid for me since odds were good that he’d want to keep me forever.

  Which might have been true if I didn’t piss off Veron by refusing to let him come near me. But I did and he retaliated by having me shipped off to Siúcra. Now that I’ve managed to escape the prison, I don’t want to go back—and I definitely don’t want to be sold at the market a second time.

  “Not as much as if you’d never been touched,” Saxon agrees, “but the price on your head would still be high. Higher now that your trip through Siúcra’s gate erased most of Rys’s trace. His brand would be easily covered by another fae.”

  I can’t let that happen. Not only does that mean that I would never see Rys again, but I’ve been on that stage before. With the roar of the crowd, the whistles, the chants, the faces shadowed so they were nothing more than silhouettes stretching out as far as I could see.

  Nope.

  I push my mug away from me. “I’m good.”

  “Smart.”

  He sounds so surprised that I’d not want to drink something that was pretty much the same thing as a sleeping potion, like he expected me to shrug and guzzle it down anyway. Saxon might not be as cruel as Dusk, but he’s still fae. In his eyes, I’m nothing.

  So then why is he here?

  Wary and suspicious, I watch as he picks up his mug, testing the wine with a few tiny sips. He thinks about it for a second, decides it’s acceptable, and drains almost half of it before he sets it down again.

  His hand dips to his lap. From beneath his cloak, Saxon pulls out a sack. It’s pretty big, about the size of a plastic shopping bag though it looks like a dark muslin. It’s lumpy, too, and if the way it thuds down on the tabletop is any indication, it’s definitely heavy.

  He tilts the mouth of the bag toward me. “Open it.”

  There’s a short length of twine knotted around the top. All it takes is one tug, the knot comes undone, and the bag opens. Before he can tell me to, I peek inside.