Page 61 of Bride of the Fae Prince

A sudden laugh bursts from my husband. It’s such a pleasant sound, I’m emboldened to think of something else unexpected to say. Something to elicit another laugh.

Don’t talk too much. Be clever and unexpected—but not too unexpected.

The memory of Jacquelle’s voice pulls me back to the ball where I was supposed to attract King Ilbert and failed. I’m not sitting on a bench by a waterfall, but one in a ballroom, waiting for the King of Enslington to bring me back refreshment as Father and Prince Brochfael discuss my future as though I am a breeding horse for sale.

Ash waves his hand at me, pulling me out of my thoughts. “You’re thinking things, but you’re not saying them. My courage is insulted yet again.”

“You want me to say what I’m thinking?” It’s a question steeped both in mortification and hope.

“Of course,” Ash says, as though it is nothing. “What else should I want you to say?”

Nothing. Quiet pleasantries. Something witty and flirty. Something unexpected, but not too unexpected.I chew on my lip.

Show my refined breeding. Be alluring—but not too alluring. Don’t be overshadowed.

“H-human princesses are bargaining tools,” I say slowly, summoning my courage. “If they’re lucky, they will be betrothed from birth, and the most important accomplishment of their life will already be established. All that would be left is bearing heirs.”

Ash listens quietly, not interrupting.

“For those of us who are not so fortunate, we are responsible for ensuring that we capture the interest of a suitable match. If we are unsuccessful, then either our father has less bargaining power when negotiating the terms of the alliance, or there simply is no alliance. As such, it has always been imperative that we please our potential bridegrooms. If he should find you lacking, then you are considered snubbed, unfit for the one thing you were born to be.”

Ash is quiet. Then he echoes softly, “Unfit for the one thing you were born to be.”

The tone in his voice is more telling than the actual words he repeats.

I’d bet good money that Ash claims he doesn’t care about any of it. The truth, however, is obvious. Perhaps he’d call it a weakness, and that’s why he hides behind the persona of a cavalier prince.

I don’t have time to articulate a response or formulate a question, because just then, a gaggle of fae children come running down the path. If they were humans, I’d guess they were six or seven years old. For all I know, they could be twice my age. They resemble human children except for long, poking ears that are far too large for the rest of their body and the fact that one of them has light blue skin and white hair.

It wasn’t the passel of fae children that made me squeak and pull my legs onto the bench.

It was the enormous wildcat cub at their heels, with two rows of fang-like teeth and long, protruding claws.

Ash smirks at me, then calls out to the children, “What mischief are you hooligans up to?”

“Ith that the human printheth?” the blue-skinned one lisps, pointing at me. The others gasp, eyes wide as they stare at me. I stare back for only a moment because the wildcat leaping toward me makes me let out a shriek and stand up on the bench.

“Whoa there,” says Ash with a laugh, catching my wrist so I don’t lose my balance and tumble backward. “Have no fear, darling. The cub won’t hurt you.”

“I don’t believe you,” I say, even though the children give no reaction of being suddenly assaulted by the stench of iron. The black-and-white patterned cub reaches the bench and sniffs the edge of my skirt. I squeak and step back, nearly knocking myselfover the back of the bench. Ash nudges the cub away and tugs me back down.

The children are laughing. Hysterical, am I?

One of them whistles for the cub, and it bounds back, jumping on one of them and knocking him clean to the ground while the others laugh.

“That creature is d-dangerous,” I insist, trying to ignore the gleam in Ash’s eye as he tries not to laugh at me. “Children shouldn’t be playing with it.”

“Can the human princess play with us?” asks one of the children with a grin on her face. A grin that concerns me.

“I don’t think she likes your pet,” says Ash, matching the child’s grin.

“We could put Tolgot away!” says the blue-skinned boy.

“We could show her the caves behind the waterfall!” says the third child—a boy with long, shaggy brown hair and a pair of ears even wider than the others.

“Oh, the caves are so beautiful!” says the girl, clapping her hands.

“Andspooky!” says the shaggy-haired boy.

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