Page 15 of A Deal with the Shadow King

All work, no play. No distractions. And most of all, no exceptions.

Making an exception is what got me cursed in the first place. I can't let anyone discover my secret. I’ve got to win that stupidly wretched bet and tear Darcy’s kingdom apart, even if I have to chop her into little pieces and feast on what’s left of her soul to achieve it.

Chapter 7

Lesson One

Quietness often brings a sense of peace, but it’s also unnerving. I stir awake after my first night in Faerie with the absolute, definitive certainty that I did not dream. That I could not. The monsters that inhabit these lands do not prey on their own.

Cool silk hugs my body, the nightgown so different from the ones I’m used to. I pass my fingers through my messy waves and stifle a yawn. Happy birthday to me.

The duvet I placed on the mirror suddenly flies about the room, a throng of curses emanating from it, and I jolt to my feet on the bed.

“What in the name of Morpheus—” a familiar voice utters.

“Baka?” I climb down the mattress and help her wrestle free of the fabric.

She blinks up at me. “Why was yer duvet covering the mirror?”

“I was afraid,” I admit.

“Bah! Ye think a duvet would stop the Shadow King if he meant to visit ye in the dead of night?”

I wince at how ridiculous it sounds. “I didn’t want him to see me.”

“Child, the Shadow King sees all.”

I half-expect her to present me with more salacious dresses, but she lays down black undergarments, a tunic, and pants on my bed.

The set is similar to the hooded ensemble One wears, and I run my fingers over the clothes. “How do they sew the threads so closely together? The fabric is like nothing I’ve ever seen.”

“It comes from the new world.”

Faerie connects my world—the old world—to the new, but I know very little about this realm.

“The new world’s seamstresses are very talented,” I say.

Baka grins, showing her crooked blue teeth. “You could say that.”

I slip into the clothes, following Baka’s instructions, shocked by the sight of myself in the mirror wearing pants. The stretchy fabric molds my legs and feels way smoother than the socks we wear underneath our dresses. I run my palms over my hips and backside, the fit surprisingly snug and comfortable, and test the tunic’s hood.

Baka adjusts the belt on my left hip. “Let me help with the boots.” She reaches down and teaches me how to lace them up, and I quickly get the hang of it.

The knee-high boots are doubled with a thin metallic layer, and the threads holding them in place shimmer with silver accents. They cover my legs and feel comfortable, so I don’t mind these new clothes as much as yesterday’s dress. If unconventional, they show almost no skin.

Baka works my hair into a thick braid, the long strands tied away from my face, and passes me an over-the-shoulder bag. “I packed a breakfast for you.”

My stomach grumbles. I haven’t eaten Fae food yet because of Father’s advice, but I’m famished. I rummage through the bag, find a perfectly benign apple, and sink my teeth into its soft flesh. The juicy piece of fruit melts on my tongue, and I swallow the fruit down in six or seven bites.

A shadow appears in the mirror, but this time, it thickens into solid form before One steps out of the glass. “Good. You’re ready.”

I wet my lips, trying to adjust to the fact that he can walk in and out of my bedroom at will and discard the apple core discreetly into the trash. “What are we going to do?”

“You’ll see.”

The mischievous edge of his voice riddles me with adrenaline.

One leads me through the door and into the tunnels. He wouldn’t look so calm if he planned to torture me, would he?

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