Page 1 of Fated or Knot

1

LARK

The carriage wobbled up the busy street on ancient wheels. Each time its interior swayed, there was an accompanying sound of straining wood that had icy nerves skittering down my spine. I tried to distract myself from my worries of the whole thing collapsing by sneaking peeks out the window, barely letting in a sliver of light to see Ilysnor decorated for the spring festival.

Forest elves and dryads worked in harmony to cultivate the woven garlands of flowers that lined every roof and railing on the buildings we passed. The blooms were fresh and alive, glowing with essence lining each petal, leaf, and stamen. It made for a riot of colors, all to celebrate the warming of the sun and the shifting of nature’s eternal balance back to Seelie hands for our seasons, spring and summer.

What had me gawking, though, was the sheer number of fae going about their day outside. A generous mix of races and designations traded coin and goods. A diminutive pixie girl stood at the intersection of two busy streets, waving fistfuls ofsilvery masks by their ribbons and calling out in a voice too small to reach me.

If I had to guess, she was shouting, “It’s not too late to buy a mask for tonight!”

My heart ached when I spotted the child’s mother, an omega with a glowing pack mark between her brows, watching her daughter with a mix of affection and caution clearly written across her face.

I leaned forward eagerly just as a flash of teal fingers took hold of the curtain and snapped it over the window, blocking the outside world. Cymora cleared her throat primly. “Lark, you are testing my patience. If you can see them, they can see you. And you are not to be seen.”

Like all mermaids, she had a voice like liquid silk, designed to flow and mesmerize. But her tone was acidic, and I hunched away as if it could burn me.

“Yes, Stepmother,” I muttered.

A musical snicker sounded from Laurel. I could feel my stepsister’s gaze on my face as I turned toward the floorboards and the thin, mud-stained rug beneath our feet.

“Our time here is all about appearances,” Cymora stated.

“Appearances, yes, I know!” Laurel put in petulantly. We had heard the lecture until Cymora’s already blue-toned skin was a deep shade of sapphire.

From the moment we transferred from the roomier traveling coach to this creaking, swaying box, the only thing that mattered was how welooked. The outside of the carriage was gorgeous, lined with abalone-inlaid wood and swirls of pearl and seashell. The surface glittered with silver and diamonds when it caught the sun. Only the absurdly wealthy would commission such a gaudy thing, but it was all a part of the charade. For one day and one eventful night, Cymora was a merfolk alpha, Laurel her omega daughter, and I their dutiful human servant.

It was an elaborate falsehood completed by my illusions. Cymora wanted me to save my magic until we reached our quarters in the richest side of Ilysnor. I couldn’t ruin things by peeking out of the window as we headed for the shadow of the castle, not even to see the preparations before the main event of the evening began.

The Omega Masquerade.

My stepfamily’s one chance to avoid financial ruin…and my glimmering window of hope to escape them forever.

All I had to do was endure.Just a few more hours.How much heavier could a little more time weigh after so long spent at Cymora’s whims?

It would be easy if she ignored me, as she did now. Her green eyes were fixed on her daughter as they went over the plan yet again. Laurel answered with the kind of whiny tone that would earn me a switching, but Cymora gazed at her like that omega on the street had with her tiny girl. Pain bloomed in my chest again at the sight, as I’d once had a father who looked at me like that. And my mother, had she lived for long past my first breath, may have as well. I’d never know for sure.

In my stepmother’s eyes, Laurel could do no wrong. If she returned from the masquerade having not tricked a pack into claiming her tonight, I was sure to be blamed. All of my stepsister’s faults were made my own failings one way or another.

I studied our feet until the carriage came to a halt. I lifted my chin to see both betas looking at me expectantly. With a flex of my fingers, essence glowed over my skin, fully erasing the wings on my back to the unpracticed eye. I reached out and touched Laurel first, giving her the illusion of wings and the more delicate build of a pixie. My fingertips brushed Cymora’s proffered wrist next, and my magic gave her muscles and height so she would appear to be a rare female alpha.

Only when our disguises were complete did I exit the carriage, nearly tripping when I stepped out on my lame foot first. Laurel followed, nose lifted, and I helped her to the ground with a gruff, “Watch your step, my lady.” I’d never met a human, but I imagined their voices were deeper and more confident than my small, higher-pitched voice.

Cymora stepped down on her own, barely sparing me a glance. “Get our things,” she ordered.

“Yes, Stepmother,” I said, suppressing a sigh.

The carriage pulled away to wait for early evening with a line of other similarly over decorated coaches, leaving me with three bulging bags. They were mostly stuffed with nonsense, considering how we would stay at this upscale location for the shortest period possible.

This is the last time.Once I enacted my plan, I wouldn’t have to carry anything for my stepfamily again. Discomfort twinged up my right leg after I lifted the weight and began to walk. I trailed behind my stepfamily, soon forgetting the pain as I goggled at the grounds.

The path snaked along through a garden of spring blooms, held at the peak of their life and vibrancy with only the most subtle glow of essence. A rainbow of a meadow surrounded the individual cottages here, and I just wanted to pluck one of the purple flowers and tuck it behind my ear. Instead, I did my best not to tread on any greenery.

I followed my stepfamily to the cottage we’d rented for the night, sweat beading down my back and sticking to my invisible wings. A couple of servants helped my stepfamily while sneering my way as I stumbled past with the bags. Humans were allowed in Seelie lands, but our relationship with the magicless was still frosty at best. Still, the naked dislike aimed at me had me suppressing a whine that’d give away my true designation.

“We will not be requiring any extra help,” Cymora was saying to them as I passed her and stepped into our cottage. She slammed the door on the pair of servants a moment later and became a flurry of blue ensuring every curtain was closed throughout the dwelling.

Only once we could be assured of our privacy did she turn back toward me and clap twice. I dropped the illusions on us with a huff of relief.

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