“What happened to Amelie?”
“I don’t know. She was never found.”
“Whose body was it, then? Who was the girl I saw being pulled from the caves?” The memory seizes me. Pale skin, face obscured by hair dark with water and tangled with kelp. There was no part of me that doubted it was my sister, but the truth is, I never saw the body close enough to know for certain.
“A selkie,” Aspen whispers.
My eyes go wide. “A selkie? How did she die?”
“She must have lost her sealskin. Without it, a selkie can only live on land in seelie form until sunrise unless she dons human clothing.”
“Was she the one your guards saw running into the caves?” I ask. “Or was that my sister?”
“Impossible to say.”
My heart sinks. I thought I’d feel relief knowing there was a possibility Amelie was still alive, but now I’m just as disheartened as ever. If she really did run to the caves, then she could have been devoured by the sea or some fae monster, leaving no trace of her remains. Or she could be…anywhere. “You truly don’t know where Amelie is? Why she disappeared?”
“I don’t.”
“Promise me.”
His head moves, facing me, despite his vision obscured by the cloth. “I promise. I know nothing about her disappearance or her current whereabouts.” After a moment, he adds, “Can you promise me the same? That you had nothing to do with it? That you have no part in any plot against the fae, my throne, or my life?”
“How can you ask me that? Of course I don’t.”
“The promise of a human means nothing when they can lie, but I want to hear you say it.”
I swallow hard. “I promise. I had nothing to do with Amelie’s disappearance, nor am I part of any plot against you, your throne, or faekind.”
He sighs, face relaxing. “Is that all?”
I could leave him to rest, pour a dropper of honey pyrus between his lips now that he’s answered my most pressing questions. But why waste the opportunity? “No. There’s more I need from you. What really happened to the Holstrom girls? What treasonous act did they perform? I want you to tell me everything.”
He lets out an irritated grumble. “At least give me more honey pyrus and wine first. If you’re going to make me talk, I want to have a voice at the end of it. And sweet oblivion to slip into once it’s over.”
“Fine.” I grab the vial. “I’ll give you a few drops now, and a half-dropper after.”
He parts his lips and I drop in the extract, followed by a few hearty sips of wine and broth.
Once he settles back down, I say, “Go on.”
“Impatient human.” His voice is gravelly, but somewhat stronger than before. “Very well. It was days before the mate ceremonies were to take place. The girls hadn’t been here a week, even. They’d been cold, distant. Worse than you.”
“I doubt that.”
He continues. “Theresa came to me in the night. She’d barely said a word to me before this, but there she was, slipping into bed next to me, whispering, telling me she was eager to start living as mates now. I was perplexed but too intrigued to dismiss her. Not when she seemed to want it so badly.”
My stomach churns, and an unexpected fury moves through me. “Spare me the details.”
He smirks. “Are you judging me?”
“No.”
“You are. I know humans hold mating as a sacred act, but most fae don’t. However, it was that very realization that sparked my suspicion. I was on alert after that and grew even more concerned when she said she wanted her sister to join, that Maryanne couldn’t bear the thought of becoming my brother’s mate without having experienced a man before. The girl stepped out of the shadows and into the bed with us. Said I seemed like a lover who could provide the instruction she needed.”
“I told you to spare me the details,” I say through my teeth.
“You also said you wanted to know everything.”
“Then get on with it.”
I can tell he’s amused by my discomfort. He continues. “After that, my suspicion only grew. I wasn’t falling for their false passions, not even as Theresa climbed in my lap, trying to lull me with her words. Kissing me.”
I hate the visions that swirl inside my imagination. Theresa and Maryanne Holstrom, Sableton’s perfect little sweethearts, crawling all over Aspen, caressing him. Tasting him. My fingers dig into my palms as I try to quell my fury. Why do these visions infuriate me so?
“I knew they were up to something,” Aspen says, “and I wanted to know what it was. I didn’t close my eyes. Not when Maryanne turned my lips to hers. Not when Theresa lifted the iron blade, bared her teeth as she brought it down. My mind cleared at once, and I understood their true intentions. I blocked the thrust of the blade and turned it on her, then her sister. They were dead before their bodies struck the ground.”
My fury extinguishes to horror. “You killed them. Without question. Without trial.”
“They never had a chance.” I’m surprised at the sorrow in his tone. “I was so enraged when I realized what was happening, I never stopped to think I could have overpowered them, could have kept them alive for questioning. Not even their bodies at my feet halted my anger. I was blinded by it. Swallowed by it. I shifted to my unseelie form and tore through Faerwyvae, past the wall, into your village. There I slaughtered every animal I’d gifted the Holstroms, my antlers tearing into flesh and bone, dooming the treaty, damning all of the Fair Isle to war.”
Bile rises in my throat as my eyes flash to his twisting antlers. I shudder. “You really did it. You murdered the Holstrom girls and killed their animals.”
“They were defenseless.” His voice is a sorrowful whisper. “I can still smell the blood of the cows, the pigs, the sheep. Feel the resistance of their flesh as it met my antlers. I can still see the bodies of the girls, littering the floor. I’ve had that bedroom scoured and sealed off. Made a new one here.”
I try to ignore how shaken he seems by relaying the tale. Try, instead, to see the monster he is. “You told my people it was treason.”
“It was. They made an attempt on my life, and I delivered my cruel justice.”
“And you expect me to believe you had nothing to do with my sister going missing?”
“I already promised you I don’t,” he says, his tone darkening. “I am not kind and I am not a hero, but I don’t kill unprovoked. Your sister never did a thing to anger me. I may not have loved her, but I would never have wished her harm. And I never would have hurt the Holstrom girls if they hadn’t come to kill me first.”
I don’t know what to think, what to believe. Could he be crazy? Could he have imagined the dagger in Theresa’s hands? Misunderstood some unintentional gesture? Then again, their behavior in the first place is unimaginable. If they had the gall to seduce him in the night, days before their weddings, then it could be I never really knew them at all.
“Take me away, Evie,” Aspen mutters. “Send me to oblivion. Let me forget.”
With trembling fingers, I grab the extract and give him half a dropperful. He slips into unconsciousness before the vial returns to the table. I stare at him, pondering the duality between the vicious beast that kills defenseless girls, and the vulnerable king who mourns their deaths.
With every answer I get, my world shifts further upside-down.
Too shaken by the story to do anything else, I slide to the floor and cry into my hands.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
The next morning, I leave Aspen alone in his room so I can get some air. He managed to sleep through the night, and last time I checked his wound, the black tendrils were finally beginning to fade in earnest.
I find myself standing at the open expanse in the formal dining room, leaning against the rail as I breathe in fresh, salty air. It’s so much better than the tension of the bedroom. The sea crashes at the shore then recedes, revealing entrances to the coral caves between each wave. I can’t help but ponder what Aspen s
aid.
Somewhere out there, Amelie could be alive.
“I hope you don’t take offense, but you look terrible.”
I turn to find Foxglove and flash him a smile. “I do take offense, but I think you must be right. Lorelei said the same thing earlier.”
“Come,” he says, “you should bathe. Dress. Let me brush out your hair.”
I shake my head. “I don’t want to disturb the king. He’s been sleeping soundly all morning.”
“We won’t need to. Lorelei fetched some clothes from your room and brought them to your parlor. We’ve had a tub brought in as well.”
I raise my brows. “Do I smell that awful?”
Foxglove does his best to hide his distaste, but it isn’t working. “Humans do have rather…odd aromas that fae don’t have. Besides, you could use the relaxation of a bath after everything you’ve done for His Majesty.”
“Fine,” I say with a sigh. “Take me to the bath.”
He leads me to the garish parlor where I’d met with Doris Mason. Inside, I’m greeted by Lorelei and a steaming bathtub. Foxglove takes his leave and Lorelei helps me undress. She asks if I’d like privacy, but I make her stay with me. I’ve had enough alone time with my thoughts. Now I just need some company that isn’t an unconscious Aspen.
She perches at the edge of one of the horrid chairs while I soak in the tub. We chat about mindless matters, sharing a few shallow laughs, but my worries aren’t kept at bay for long. I need to tell someone about what I’ve learned. Perhaps I can trust Lorelei. Amelie seemed to.
“Aspen told me some things when he was awake,” I say, trying to keep my tone nonchalant. I toy with my rowan berry necklace, keeping it from soaking too long in the water.
“Like what?”
I take a deep breath. “About Amelie.”
She sits forward eagerly. “Does he know what happened to her?”
“No, but she might be alive.” I watch her face for any indication that she already knows.
Her brows furrow. “Alive? But the body—”
“It wasn’t Amelie’s. It belonged to a selkie woman who lost her sealskin.”
Lorelei is clearly perplexed. So she didn’t know after all. “A selkie woman doesn’t simply lose her skin. What happened to her? And what happened to Amelie?”
“He didn’t have answers to either. I’ve been puzzling over it ever since. Why didn’t he tell me? Why did he allow me and everyone else in the castle to believe Amelie died? Yet, he allowed the vicar to assume she’s still alive and well.”
Lorelei leaves the chair to crouch beside the tub, expression grave. She keeps her voice low. “Those questions are best saved for Aspen and asked in private. If he kept this information from us, it’s for a reason. Don’t tell anyone else.”
“Why? What reason could he have for hiding it? He could be sending guards out looking for my sister. Instead, everyone thinks she’s dead.”
“I’m sure his most trusted guards know,” Lorelei says. “There were many who witnessed the body they found. They will know the truth. He could have trackers seeking Amelie right now. If someone means him or her harm, it’s best our efforts to find Amelie are made with discretion.”
I nod. “Perhaps you’re right. I just hate not knowing what’s going on.”
“I’m sure the king feels the same.”
I chew my bottom lip. “He also told me about the Holstrom girls. He confessed to killing them, saying they came to assassinate him with a dagger. How do I know it’s true?”
She lifts a shoulder in a shrug. “Guards found a blade in his room. It was of human design and was traced back to your village smith.”
“But how do I know his account of things isn’t skewed? I know he can’t lie, but how do I trust his perspective is accurate?”
“You either trust him or you don’t. I can’t tell you how to feel. All I can say is I trust Aspen with my life.”
A feeble smile tugs at my lips. “Even though he punished you by appointing you my lady’s maid?”
“Meh,” she says. “I’ve had worse company.”
“Speaking of worse company.” I jump at Foxglove’s voice. He stands in the doorway looking flustered. He closes the door behind him, then lays out a sheer, spider silk dress in a deep plum color on top of the clothes Lorelei had brought. “We’re going to need to speed up our plans. Forget just getting you clean. We need to make you look like a queen.”
“What? Why?”
Foxglove gives me an apologetic smile and adjusts his spectacles. “It’s time to meet your future mother-in-law.”
* * *
I’m trembling by the time I’m dressed and ready to meet my guest, unsure what to expect. Foxglove has been cryptic at best, hushing every question with an admonition that I’ll ruin my makeup if I keep talking. He painted my lips with rouge, powdered my cheeks with crystalline dust, and lined my eyes with black and gold kohl. My hair has been brushed out in long waves, something he insisted on doing instead of his usual updo. My dress is so sheer, I blushed when I first saw myself in the mirror.
Now, as I walk down the halls, I can feel each breeze as if I were naked. All the fae dresses have been light and gauzy, but this one is unlike any I’ve worn so far. The plum spider silk is tight around my torso, then flows outward at the waist, trailing past my ankles. Its plunging neckline reveals a generous portion of my curving breasts, and the silk barely covers the rest.
At least Foxglove let me keep my dagger strapped to my thigh, the only argument I won. I blanched when he muttered that I might end up needing it.
I tug at one of my long bronze earrings, fashioned into a strand of maple leaves. “Is all this really necessary?” I ask Foxglove.
He and Lorelei exchange a glance. “You’ll see,” he says.
I hold my breath as we enter the formal dining room. There at the other end, standing at the rail I left not long ago, is Queen Melusine. She’s facing away from us, so all I see is a cascade of silky, indigo hair, pale blue arms, and a long, sinuous serpent’s tail. As she turns, we sink into bows and curtsies. I’m grateful for the moment to compose myself before I face her, but the time to rise comes too soon, and I find myself straightening with Foxglove and Lorelei, pulse racing.
Now I can see Melusine fully, and my state of dress makes sense. The Queen of the Sea Court has a human-like upper body, both slim and seductively curving, breasts barely hidden beneath strands of her glossy, blue hair. Her face holds an unprecedented beauty with angled eyes the color of a stormy sea, high blushing cheekbones, a perfect nose, and full coral-red lips. Strands of pink coral hang from her ears and around her slim neck. The planes of her flat stomach disappear into scales that end in her shimmering blue-green tail.
I feel overdressed and hideous in her presence.
“Your Majesty,” Foxglove says, taking a step forward. “Queen Melusine, I would like to introduce Miss Evelyn Fairfield.”
Melusine smiles, showing rows of pointed teeth. Fangs. I resist the urge to back away from her. Fangs don’t mean anything, I remind myself. Foxglove has fangs, and he’s harmless. Pleasant, even. But the more I’ve gotten to know Foxglove, the more his pointed teeth seem dainty and fashionable. Melusine’s, on the other hand, look anything but, with their sharp, serrated edges and elongated tips. Oddly, they do nothing to take from her beauty. Somehow, the danger they present makes her more breathtaking.
“Your Majesty.” I curtsy again, doing my best to keep my composure.
She eyes me, nose turned up as if she’s assessing an unusual speck of dirt. “Where is that son of mine?” Her voice is light, flowing. Like a melody. Every word carries the roar of the ocean, the song of the siren.
“Resting,” Foxglove says. His voice sounds like shattering glass after the lilting tune of hers. “He’s recovering from his injury.”
Melusine looks displeased, though not surprised. She must already know what happened to Aspen. “And where is my other son? Where is dear Cobalt?”
&nb
sp; “Here.” Cobalt enters the room and bows before his mother, his moves flustered as if he’d rushed to make it here.
She wrinkles her nose at him as she eyes him from head to toe. “You dare greet me like that?”
He straightens, jaw shifting back and forth. “I take seelie form on land, Mother. You know this.”
“I thought you’d have the decency to humor me, at least. Never mind, then. Take me to see Aspen.”
“He’s resting,” Foxglove says again. “With his recovery so recently begun, we don’t want to wake him.”
Melusine throws her hands in the air. “Why did I come all this way if not to see my son?”
“Good question,” Cobalt says. “Why did you come?”
She seems to ignore the ice in his tone. “This was my castle, once,” she says. “I wanted to make sure it’s in good hands.”
“I’m more than capable of ruling in my brother’s stead while he’s incapacitated.”
“You mistake me,” she says. “I’m not curious about your hands, but hers.” Her eyes slide to mine.
Cobalt follows her gaze, eyes going wide when they take in my appearance. He’d been so distracted by his mother, it’s the first time he’s looked at me since entering the room.
I resist the urge to cross my arms over my chest, and instead, put on my most convincing smile. “I am pleased to meet the mother of my mate,” I say.
She slithers toward me on her serpent’s tail while her upper body remains upright, bearing regal. Once she stops, I have to tilt my head to meet her eyes as she towers over me. “Are you?” she asks, tone mocking. “Are you truly pleased to meet me?”
“I am. I’ve heard so much about you.”
She barks a musical laugh. “Not from Aspen, I’m sure. He barely considers me his mother anymore. He treats me as a fellow royal of the Council of Eleven Courts, nothing more.”
“Still, I’m pleased to be in your presence just the same.”
“Such human politeness,” she says with disgust. “Fake.”
“Mother,” Cobalt says, a warning in his tone. “Aspen plans on making her his queen, which will make her nearly your equal.”
To Carve a Fae Heart (The Fair Isle Trilogy Book 1) Page 20