Page 74 of The Fae Lord

He is not the same as the man who owns Rosalie.

Yes, Alana fucked him – although she thinks I don’t know about it. But she wanted to. In all their secret meetings, he never once forced himself on her or made her do anything she didn’t want to do.

All they did was talk.

I turn away from Rosalie and close my eyes. When I open them, I am down in the garden by a resplendent fountain. I stare at it, watch the water pooling in the basin.

I want to send her a message. I could... I could send a stream of water to batter her window. I could write in dew drops on her mirror.

I could tell her I’m still here.

But what if I’m not?

If Alana’s journey comes to an end, and mine does too, Rosalie would lose me twice. Better for her not to know that I am watching her.

Better for her to think I am gone, and learn to live without me, than believe there’s a fraction of hope that we could be together again one day.

I dip my hand into the fountain. I cannot feel the water. I miss it so much my heart hurts.

“Is there an instruction manual somewhere?” I ask, shaking my head as I sit down on the lip of the basin. “Something that explains what I’m allowed to feel and what I’m not allowed to feel? What these messages mean?”

I sigh and pinch the bridge of my nose.

I told Alana not to trust them and yet I have no idea who they are.

I am not in charge of the messages I am passing to her, and I cannot explain why or how that is the case.

No wonder she is furious with me; I am furious, too.

Except, I’m not. Because – like everything else – the fury is hidden beneath a blanket of cloud. Muted. Not quite there.

I am staring into the water, trying to persuade myself to move further away from Rosalie instead of sitting outside her window all night, when the same urgent sensation tugs in my gut.

This time, I know it has to do with Alana.

I look up at Rosalie’s bedroom one last time, then whisper a promise that I will return, and feel myself disintegrate into the air.

When I reappear, I’m in the middle of the forest encampment, and everything is in complete chaos. Briony and Finn are shouting at one another. The fire in the middle of the camp is dwindling; no one is taking care of it.

Yarrow, the Shadowkind with the large beard, is pacing up and down, shaking his head. By a tall, twisted tree, Pen and Raine are watching, muttering something.

I move towards them and listen carefully.

“What was she thinking?” Pen shakes his head. “She’s going to get us all killed. Eldrion will capture her again, force her to tell him where we are, and...”

“Don’t say that.” Raine folds her hands over her rounded stomach and sniffs. She looks like she’s going to cry. Pen puts his arm around her and hugs her tightly.

“Don’t cry, my love.” He kisses her forehead.

He is not the father of her child, but clearly they have become close since our capture and her husband’s death at the forest moon celebrations.

The night the Gloomweavers came for us.

“What’s happening? Where’s Alana?” I speak, but of course, no one answers, and I can’t show myself to them. It would cause even more chaos, more questions.

I move towards Finn and Briony.

“I have to go after her.” Finn looks completely panicked, and the expression on his face makes me doubt whether I was right not to trust him. I thought he was using her. I didn’t like the way he spoke about her to Yarrow and the others. But there is no pretence now; he is distraught.

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