Page 159 of Bride of the Fae Prince

I say a silent prayer. Then it’s time to get ready for the day.

“It’s the tailor atthe door, my lord,” Edvear tells Ash while we eat our noon meal together. Ash looks up at me, his eyes rounded in remembrance—echoing my surprise.

“We were supposed to see him yesterday,” I say.

“He couldn’t come yesterday due to the uproar.” Edvear’s face is pulled back under its usual mask, as if yesterday he hadn’t nearly had a breakdown.

I pity him, the burdens he bears, the losses he’s endured.

Ash gives me one look. It’s quick, but weighty. He turns to Edvear. “Tell him to come in.”

Edvear bows and hurries to obey. Ash rises from the table, leaving his unfinished breakfast. He comes to me, cups the back of my head with a hand that bears a new tattoo, presses a kiss to my forehead. “I’ll be in my study.”

I’m dabbing my mouth with my napkin and rising when the tailor enters, bearing a garment bag over one shoulder and a measuring tape hanging from around his neck. He adjusts his spectacles, runs a finger along his curled mustache, and gives me a professional once-over as though ensuring the gown he made looks as well as he expected it to.

Then he’s all clipped business. “I’ve brought your white dress. If you would come inspect it and ensure it is to your liking, I would be grateful.”

When I come to his side, he is unbuttoning the garment bag, revealing layers of creamy white fabric that fall to the floor without a single crease or seam.

I barely see it, though, because the moment Edvear goes back to the kitchen, the tailor presses a tiny sheet of paper into my hand. “As you will see, I did scallops on the ends of the sleeves for a more romantic look,” the tailor says, as if he has done nothing suspicious in the slightest.

“It’s beautiful,” I say, distracted. “It is exactly to my liking.”

“Perfect. I shall be off then. Many need last-minute alterations for their Lulythinar gowns. Be sure to summon me if you need the same, though from a glance, I do not think that will be necessary.”

“Thank you,” I manage to say before he leaves. Then, looking down at the paper in my hand, my heart gives a painful thump in my chest. I unfold it and read.

After dark. West garden gate. Rap three times on the nearest tree. The Ivy Mask will meet you there.

I put the note away when Edvear comes into the living room, offers me an obligatory compliment on the dress, and whisks it away to my wardrobe.

The directions on the paper . . . they mean the servant’s exit of the garden outside my window, don’t they? This Ivy Mask must be associated with the Small City we visited.

“What did he say?”

I nearly jump straight out of my skin. “Stop being so quiet, Ash! You scared me!”

He takes my shoulders, rubs them gently, and peers at the paper I show him. “This Ivy Mask is new to me. I wonder if he is fae or human.”

“Human,” I reply promptly.

“Why do you say that?”

“Because—and I mean this with no offense to you—fae don’t risk their lives for humans.”

“If this Ivy Mask gets humans back to their own world, I have a difficult time believing he would be a human. Caphryl Wood is a dangerous place for humans.”

I shrug. “I think he’s human.”

And then we stop speaking, as though we both realize that this discussion is only a distraction from the impending dread we feel.

“Dottie probably wants to start preparations for tonight,” I mumble. Even though the dining room is only a few steps away, and our unfinished meal sends steaming wafts of a spiced, creamy sauce filled with pheasant and root vegetables, I am not inclined to go finish it.

“I have a few things to attend to. Final preparations for tonight.” Ash tightens his grip on my shoulders, and despite his words, he makes no move to let me go.

I crane my neck, looking back at him.

One way or another, everything will change tonight. He takes me by the waist, pulls me to himself, and angles a fierce kiss against my mouth.

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