Page 29 of The Fae Lord

I sigh, too, even though the feeling I want to feel is like the ghost. Not quite there. Not quite tangible. Muted.

“It doesn’t work like that.” I beat my wings slowly, causing a soft breeze to drift over us.

Alana laughs, this time a softer, sadder laugh. “I wish you could tell me exactly how it did work,” she says.

“Trust me.” I meet her eyes. “So do I.”

THIRTEEN

Rosalie

Ihave stopped counting the days I have been locked away here, and I have stopped thinking about the others.

All except Kayan.

And Alana.

I hope that, wherever they are, they are at least together. Is it strange that I hope that? Knowing their feelings for one another could quite possibly be reignited if they were to endure the kind of torture I have endured.

I look around my chambers. Of course, to the outside observer, this does not look like a prison. I have a large, comfortable bed, a wardrobe full of fine clothes, and a view of the lawns.

But fear and loathing hang in the air here. It is thick with them.

No one speaks to me except him, and I do not know if that is because he has commanded it to be that way or because they are simply too afraid.

I have tried to make friends with my maid – the Shadowkind woman who comes to dress me each morning. But she refuses to meet my eyes.

Once, she touched the cuff on my wrist. For a brief moment, hope bloomed in my chest and I thought perhaps she knew a way to take it off so I might escape. But maybe she was just curious.

She has never done it again, and still has not uttered a single word.

Not even when I am naked and she is shampooing my hair in the bath, or when she turns down the sheets at night. Not when I am crying, or shouting, or pleading.

I gave up a few weeks ago.

At least, I think it was a few weeks ago.

I have given up counting the days.

I glance over at the mirror, then stand and turn it around. On the back, I had begun to etch the number of nights I was kept here. I stopped counting when I reached forty.

I trace the markings with my neatly manicured nail, and sigh as I turn the mirror back around. To think, there was a time when I longed to be a Sunborne aristocrat. It began after a visit to the city for a parade. My mother took me, and I was instantly entranced by their beauty and their power.

Now, I have all the trappings I wanted. But they come at a price.

Thinking of my husband, bile rises in my throat.

I did not agree to the marriage, but apparently that does not matter when you are a Sunborne marrying a fae you have purchased at auction. He simply nodded when the priest asked him if he wanted me as his wife, and that was it.

A gold band was slipped onto my finger. And I was his. Officially.

Tonight, there is to be a feast. I have heard the servants muttering about it. They quiet when they know I am close by, so I have perfected the art of sticking to the shadows.

The garden is the best place for this. I can linger behind a hedge or fountain and catch snatches of what the gardeners are saying to one another.

This feast, in particular, is important because my husband is trying to impress the Sunborne who usually attend gatherings at the castle. I have heard talk of Lord Eldrion. Something about him losing some servants and cancelling the festivities that usually happen on a nightly basis in the citadel.

My husband clearly believes he can obtain favour with some important people by stepping in to fill the void.

---