Page 71 of Bride of the Fae Prince

“Hmm?”

“Who was that woman? How did you know her son?”

“So you weren’t out that whole time, eh?”

I wasn’t exactly fully conscious! But I keep my mouth shut, waiting for him.

He draws a deep breath. “He was a manservant of mine. He died the day I met you.”

“Died?” There’s something much more ominous behind that word. It’s there, in the sour twist of Ash’s lips. Perhaps I might think it was a lie, but this strikes me as very true. Almost as if the truth tastes worse than a lie ever could.

“My father killed him.”

“Oh.”

We’re silent as we continue our trek. Did he carry me all this way while I was passed out? The mushroom houses only now begin thinning out the further we go. How much longer until we start . . . growing?

It takes me a dozen more steps before I find the courage to ask: “Why did your father kill him?”

He doesn’t answer at first, slowing down to help me over a log that’s probably nothing more than a twig. “Because I rejected his choice of bride.”

“Yourejectedhis choice of bride?” The shocked words are out before I can stop them. I clamp my jaw shut, but not before he shoots a surprised look back at me. “F-forgive me,” I quickly add, swallowing thickly. “I didn’t know anyone could reject a marriage arrangement.”

It sounds foolish once I say it. Perhaps there are many people who reject such a thing. It just seems so . . . utterly . . .impossible.If I had dared to even express displeasure at my father’s choice . . . I barely withhold a shudder.

“Perhaps you forget that the High King is actively searching for ways to end my life. It’s a complicated situation.” He says thiswith a little smirk and wink, but there’s something else there. Something lurking behind the brightness of his eyes.

My heart gives a twinge. Though my relationship with my own father has always been complicated, he never actively tried to do me harm. There might have been hurt and bitterness between us, but never malice.

My mind flickers back to last night, to the way the air simmered between Ash and his father. The way I’d been caught like a mouse between two predators.

And yet . . .

I give Ash’s hand a little squeeze. It’s not much. Perhaps words would be better, but my tongue is too tired and elegant words have never been my strength. This little hand squeeze will have to suffice for the things I wish to say. A simpleI’m sorry, Ash.

A very subtle twitch goes through his fingers, and he half looks back at me, then stops, as if he doesn’t want to meet my eyes. Instead, his hand tightens around mine, and he tugs me a little closer than before.

The mushrooms around us have shrunk to Ash’s height by now, and with each step, weun-shrink, as it were, until finally the trees are a normal height, and the surrounding forest is how it should be. My feet wobble, but my husband’s grip on my hand steadies me.

It’s his hand stiffening in mine that first alerts me to something being wrong.

I look up, find Ash’s piercing eyes scanning the forest, two bright beacons in the dim half-light spilling through the tops of the trees. My heart gives a nervous little putter. I’m really not sure how much I can handle after yesterday. I want to ask what’s wrong—and I almost do. At the last second, I close my lips and seal them shut. I don’t want to distract him.

Oddly enough, despite the mounting unease rippling through my body, there’s an anchor in the fear.

I think I might truly trust my husband, and beyond his mere need to keep me alive for his own purposes. I think—

Ash’s body slams into mine so fast my breath is knocked out of my chest. I land hard on my back, wheezing up at the overwhelming weight of my husband on top of me. His hand claps over my mouth, and my eyes go even wider than they were a split second ago.

Then my gaze latches onto the tree, hardly a foot away—and the black-fletched arrow sticking out of it.

“It seems like Faradir was jealous of our steamed sap tea. Should we make him some, hmm?” Ash’s face splits into a deadly grin. “Do as I say, love, and don’t scream. It’ll simplify things.”

Chapter 27

The Princess

Ash lifts his handfrom my mouth, pushes off his elbows, and gets to his feet. He offers a hand down to me, and I stare at it stupidly, half-blinded by the terror pumping through my veins. Before I take it, he reaches down, snatches my arm, and hauls me up so violently I nearly go flying in the other direction. A sharpwhizslices into the ground where I just was. Another black arrow.

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