Page 27 of A Court Bright and Broken

I let out a long breath. The whole story was about to come spilling out of me. The truth this time.

“I didn’t want to worry you,” I told him. “I met a man in the marketplace today. A Fae man.”

After a moment’s hesitation, I elaborated. “A High Fae man. I didn’t realize he was even Fae until almost the end of our walk.”

Papa’s forehead wrinkled further. “You left the market with him and went for a walk?”

“Not exactly. I mean, yes, I did walk with him, but it wasn’t what you’re thinking. He had helped me earlier,” I explained. “The band of thieves I mentioned were following me, and he intervened and tried to prevent them from robbing me.”

The girls were paying rapt attention as I continued.

“Later they attacked him, and I felt so sorry for him. I believe they would have killed him if I hadn’t done something. So Istopped the attack, and then I helped him home because he couldn’t walk on his own.”

“You’re a hero, Raewyn,” Tindra exclaimed.

“He must not have had healing glamour,” Papa said. “Go on. You helped him home…”

“Yes. I still believed he was human—just a very tall one—until we passed all the human villages and were nearly to the gates of the royal city. I couldn’t leave him, Papa. He was so badly hurt, and he’d been kind to me.”

“And he was very handsome…” my father supplied.

“No. Not really,” I protested. “Well, notsohandsome. He was quite poorly dressed, and after he was beaten by the gang, he was all dirty and foul smelling.”

“And when did this dirty, foul-smelling High Fae invite you to a royal ball?” Papa asked.

“He wasn’t interested in me, if that’s what you’re thinking,” I said. “He was simply grateful for my assistance. I think he saw the invitation as some kind of reward. He asked me to come inside the gates for something to eat, but I told him no. Then he gave me the invitation—as a token of gratitude.”

Papa didn’t look entirely convinced.

“And did you give this grateful High Fae man—who disguised his appearance to go to the Rough Market for some reason—your name? And tell him where we live?”

My tone was indignant. “Of course not.”

“He knows nothing about me. Except my first name,” I admitted. “I did give him that. But I did not tell him our family name or where we live.”

Papa’s expression and posture relaxed a bit.

“When are you going to the ball?” Turi asked eagerly, bouncing on her little toes.

“I’m not,” I said. “What would I do there? I don’t know any of the Elven dances, and I couldn’t eat or drink anything. Theirfood and drink are enchanted and will put humans under their power.”

“That is false information,” my father said. “Their food is just food. Their wine is just wine.”

“But the stories…”

“All rumors, and you know what rumors usually amount to. That’s why your mother and I taught you not to gossip–and not to believe it when someone else does,” he said.

“But… how can you be so sure… about the enchantment I mean?”

“Your father wasn’t always a cripple in a chair in front of the hearth,” Papa said. “I’ve had some adventures—and known some Fae in my time.”

“I know. They’re the ones who took your sight and left you in constant suffering,” I said bitterly.

“That’s true. And I hurt some of them in return. War is an ugly thing with no real winners. I don’t blame their soldiers for doing their duty, just as I did mine.”

“We have peace now, and that is a good thing.”

He rubbed his stiff knees and shifted in his chair. “Not all the Fae are bad. But I don’t want you going to the ball.”

---