Page 39 of Bride of the Fae Prince

“Um . . . are we almost there yet?”

He snorts. “That hardly counts as a thought, but I’ll humor it because you’re cute. We have most of the day ahead of us. Once we reach Caphryl Wood, however, the rest of it will go much faster. We’ll be home by nightfall.”

My brain vaguely makes the connection that Caphryl Wood must be the name the fae have for the Long Lost Wood. The main thing I can think, however, is:cute?

It’s too warm this close to him. It would be better if I were on the other side of the carriage.

“Another,” he says, looking at me expectantly, as if he’s calling for a refill of his drink.

A tinge of boldness surfaces from some hidden part of me I didn’t know existed. “What if I askedyoufor a thought? Or else I’d kissyou?”

A wide grin spreads across his face. This travel day will end up going by much too quickly if he wears that often.

“If you did,” he says, ducking his head close to mine, “I might just have to see if you intend to make do on your threat.”

My stomach flips over itself. I should have known he’d say something like that. I sit up straighter, attempting to show him that he doesn’t ruffle me. “That will suffice for a thought from you.”

“Wait—no!” he protests, laughter edging his words. “I retract my words.”

I can’t help the tiny little smile that plays at my mouth. “No retractions.”

We stare at each other for a minute, until I blush and shift my focus back to my hands, and he goes back to staring out the window.

It’s not much later that Ash says he needs to speak with his steward and Rahk, but that he will be back shortly. I stay in the carriage, and can’t quite find the guts to peek out the window. Not until some time has passed and still he hasn’t returned. When I look, we’ve left the city far behind and travel on an old road through a wood thick with barren trees. Ash is on horseback, riding next to Rahk. Every few minutes, they exchange a few words, but they mostly seem quiet.

He’s uncomfortable around me, isn’t he? I suspect it’s similar to how I feel—uncomfortable, not unpleasant.

The clip-clop of the horses’ hooves, the rumble of wheels on uneven ground, and the swish of the carriage’s red velvet curtains are the only things keeping me company.

When Ash does come back, it’s been a couple of hours. I’ve managed a dreary half-awake nap, but I don’t sit up from leaning against the wall when he comes in. He slides quietly to the opposite side of me, and I close my eyes again.

Except that I take little peeks of him here and there. He spends most of the time staring out the window, but every few minutes, he glances back at me.

I don’t know how to interpret this.

We don’t talk the rest of the way, except for a few words when a horned fae delivers a basket of packed food for a meal. I catch myself just before I startle and betray my instinctive fright. At last, a whistle sounds from outside, and Rahk comes to knock on the carriage door.“We’re at Caphryl, Highness.”

My heart quickens. I sit up straighter and smooth my hair. I’m about to meet . . . the rest of my life.Faerieland.

Ash shoots me a look, measuring my reaction. I try to keep my face blank and neutral, but when he holds out his hand to help me out of the carriage, there’s no disguising the slick of sweat across my skin. He doesn’t react, only takes my hand and helps me to the ground.

My legs ache when I land, and I discover my rear has gone quite numb. The chilly air burns my cheeks as I straighten my skirts and wipe my wet hands in their folds.

Then I look up.

Though the world is bright with late afternoon sun, the expanse of forest stretching before me is dark and forbidding. The trees tower high above normal trees, creating an imposing barrier between our worlds. Their branches are thick, with an impenetrable canopy of dark leaves, despite the season. We’ve pulled off the road, which leads right into the forest, the end of it swallowed by the tree line.

A wind picks up around our party. The horses whinny nervously, and a fae with small horns and bright cat eyes that must be the steward discusses something with the human carriage driver and footmen. Possibly about taking the horses back? Clearly, we’re not driving any farther.

The wind sharpens, whipping my skirts and yanking tendrils free of my hair. It smells different too, rich and tingly . . . almost like the color purple—if colors had smells. But there’s also a tang to the air, like spices in a drink, or a dash of rum in a cream sauce.

The fae unload my trunks—which are probably full of things I don’t need. It seems unfair to make the fae hoist them over their shoulders and bear the burden, but they’re the only things I have from my home. I don’t want to just leave them here.

It’s so dark.

On the wind, something hums, calls softly, like a whisper in the dead of night.The warmth I felt when my new husband nuzzled his nose into mine vanishes into nothing. Icy dread seeps into my toes, into my stomach, my shoulders.

I’m not supposed to be here.

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