Page 17 of How to Keep a Fae

A knock comes on the door before I can answer. We all watch as Denna strides over to answer it. Her posture stiffens, settling off a prickling of unease. She turns to the room, clapping her hand briskly. “Quickly, back to your nests!”

We abandon books and work, and gathering up our silk skirts lest we trip, we hasten down the spiral stairs back to the undercroft and our nests.

Has something terrible happened that caused the patrol to return early?

Are the men I love well?

I pace my nesting chamber as the passage of boots and voices signal the warriors’ arrival. It is getting harder to behave normally when warriors who are neither August nor Jayga come to me.

I try to steady my pounding heart. I can do this; I can endure anything because the random design of life suggests Ishall get my turn with each of them again, and I will live for that precious, stolen moment.

“Adaline!”

The call elevates my already pounding heart rate. I hasten to the doorway, thrusting the covering aside. I want to peer out and see who is coming to my door. But I can’t. I just stand there waiting, frantic with worry and hope.

My eyes land on the small patch of stone flooring just outside my room. A pair of boots enter the space and stop.

My chest freezes. How is it possible to recognize his boots?

My eyes rush upward over leather pants and body armor. He does not look badly wounded, and there are certainly no obvious signs of wounds. My blood rises a little as I sense underlying bruises.

Then my eyes reach his dark mahogany ones. They are usually warm and playful—they are icy, cold, and empty today.

His fury slams into me.

“Are you going to let me in?” Jayga says, tone clipped.

“Of course,” I mumble, stepping back so he can enter.

“What happened? Why are you back early?” I demand, not even caring that he is radiating menace. “Are the warriors… is anyone badly hurt?”

My eyes search his. A tic thumps in his jaw. Usually, he would begin to strip by now and then go and clean up in the shower. Instead, he prowls back and forth in the limited space like a caged beast.

“Worried about him, Adaline?” he sneers.

Him? I shake my head, telling myself I’m reading all this wrong. “I don’t know what you mean. You’re back early. I was just worried, that is all.”

He rounds on me, stepping right up, towering over me.

I quake under his sharp glare, wanting to touch and soothe him, yet understanding that something is very wrong.

“Is it true?” he demands.

I shake my head again. “True? What are you talking about?”

“August.” He bites the word out like a curse.

I open my mouth to speak, but no words emerge as my delicate house of cards collapses before my eyes.

“August,” he repeats. “Does that name ring any bells, my sweet little fae?”

“I—I don’t know,” I hedge. A bell is ringing like a thunderclap inside my head. Instinct tells me that admitting the truth would be a very bad idea.

I swallow nervously.

He takes a big step back and rakes his fingers through his hair. “He’s fucked you, hasn’t he?”

Many warriors take pleasure in my body. They are part of the same patrol and of others who all share the same warrior hall. It stands to reason that I would have lain with August, too. His questioning of me would be unreasonable if I did not sense a wound within him pertaining to his heart.

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