Page 4 of A Deal with the Shadow King

He promised the devil Fae that healed my mother that I would cross to the shadow realm and live in Faerie two weeks out of four, for an entire year. By the end of that year, I will either have earned my freedom or somehow condemned my people to live under his reign. Father sold me, and gambled his crown to boot, and a part of me hates him for it. Especially since a stupid accident claimed Mother’s life too soon anyway.

Now that she’s gone, Father clearly regrets ever making the deal in the first place.

The way I conduct myself during the next twelve months will determine my kingdom’s fate for centuries to come, but I’m precluded to know the exact terms of their contract—or how my future actions might doom my people.

All will be revealed in due time, Esme promised.

Until then, I have to keep my wits about me and suffer the king’s whims. If I refuse to go, he wins. If I don’t play by his rules or try to flee, he wins. The odds are rigged in the devil’s favor, but what is owed to the Shadow King is owed in full.

And it’s my turn to pay up.

Chapter 2

Flings and Proposals

Church is packed the next morning, troves of villagers vying for a seat in the first few rows behind us.

The day of the equinox signals the end of summer and, with the change in seasons, our return to court. It’s the villagers’ last chance to thank Father for his visit, but most of them are here to catch one last glimpse of what they call “the blessed princess”—ergo, me. If they knew where my magic truly came from, they’d hunt me down with pitchforks and torches, but my talent for healing—the only power I’ve been allowed to share—is seen as a blessing from our beloved Mother.

I managed to visit Firenze early and finished healing his leg—I bet Mathilda already told half the villagers.

Excited whispers resonate in my wake on our way out of the holy building. I let my mind wander, trying to think about anything other than the sermon that highlighted the virtues of abnegation and unselfishness.

Father mounts his horse and waves goodbye to his subjects, probably rushing back to deal with one crisis or another. I’m tempted to ride the carriage home, but before I make a decision, the crowd disperses, revealing a tall, familiar silhouette beyond the church’s white picket fence.

Isaac Longbottom leans against a tree in the church’s orchard, his arms crossed over his torso. The handsome boy smiles as our gazes meet, his bright blue eyes shining in the midday sun.

Cece spreads her arms above her head and twirls. “Oh, what do I see? A fair knight waiting for his fairer maiden. Sir Isaac is simply taken by your radiant beauty, sister. How shall you repay his loyalty?” She chuckles, dropping the dramatic act. “Look at him, he can’t stop staring because you guys ki?—”

“Shush, Esme will hear you.” I slap her arm to keep her quiet.

Doubling-down on her theatrics, she bats her eyelashes and purses her lips to make wet kissing noises.

I cringe, my jaw slightly askew. “Crops! You annoy me so much.”

I should never have confided in her.

“You annoy me more.” Cece peels her fashionable hat from her brown bun and holds it behind her back, the ribbons attached to it blowing in the autumn breeze. “Go to him. I’ll convince the witch to stop by the bakery. It’ll give you enough time to escape.” With a wink, she prances over to Esme.

Dearest Cece… Esme’s got her work cut out with her.

I press a hand over my mouth to cover up the huge, unladylike grin threatening to surface, and meet Isaac by the orchard, the skirt of my light yellow dress scraping against earth.

“You look like a real life girl, Penny,” he teases me, his gaze riveted on the white ribbon tied above my hips. “Come now. I’ll escort you home.”

I link my arm in his and scold him for his forwardness. “Don’t get any ideas. You’re taking me straight home.”

“Maybe a quick stop under the willow tree?” he breathes softly against my cheek.

My ears burn, and I bite back a giddy smile. “Alright.”

Since the witch came into the picture, I’m allowed more freedom than most girls my age. Father’s guilt can go a long way toward special privileges, and the rules at the summer house are even more flexible.

Isaac, my life-long friend, courted me this summer.

The other night, we kissed under the willow tree behind the stables. I wouldn’t risk losing my virginity before marriage, knowing the Shadow King could use that against me. No, Esme knew I would never cross that line, so she allowed me this fling—but she still wants me to pretend she doesn’t know.

Isaac and I had climbed trees and explored mud fields growing up, earning me my reputation as a tom boy, but he doesn’t mind my lack of love for the piano forte and crochet. If anything, he likes me better for it.

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