Page 75 of Bride of the Fae Prince

The Prince

A cramp in myhand forces me to set down the quill and rub the sore muscles. I roll one shoulder, then the other. I pop my neck and release a great sigh, leaning my forehead against my palm and staring down at the half-scrawled coded letter before me. A request for Rahk to take Mama Bagogs to Orawyth. And a notice that it’s time for him to propose to Lord and Lady Nothril the absorption of the Neverseen King’s portal to Orawyth.

The Neverseen King will be suspicious at such a request, but I know he hates the Orawyth portal. The Nothril Court will be happy to have it completely under their control. It’ll make everyone happy, if the deal goes through, and I will be one step closer to allying my father’s two biggest threats.

They’ll have to come to Valehaven and present the news to the High King. And that’s the distraction I’ll need to make Faradir forget about Stella long enough to ensure the rest of my plan works.

I massage the bridge of my nose. Maybe one of these days, my scheming will pay off in the form of a crown. Or perhaps I’ll just end up as dead as my mother.

Once my hand stops hurting, I pick up the quill and finish the letter. It goes in the stack on my desk of outgoing mail. From the other stack left by Edvear, I pick up the next thing. It’s that request from Milton Andrews, signed by Edvear, indicating that it’s been taken care of. Which means I’m now obligated to buy this slave girl. The tattoo itches on the inner skin of my forearm. I roll up my sleeve to scratch it.

Humans in Faerieland. Such a complicated problem. They don’t belong here, and yet here they are. But the laws must stand. If a human enters Faerie in breach of terms, then they are enslaved. There must be punishment—otherwise humans will find it quite thrilling to run amok in our forests, getting themselves into all sorts of trouble. I cannot thwart the law.

But I do what I can to mitigate its abuse.

It’s just . . . it’s never enough. And in fact, it’s often almost too much of a risk for me to take. If I go buy this girl from Princess Listhra, someone will report it to the High King. He’ll think I have an attachment to her, and then she’ll be the next on his list to demonstrate his wrath.

I’ll have to send her back to a Small City and accept her father’s service in her stead.

A knock sounds on my door.

I look up through the strands of hair fallen in my face. Part of me lifts in sudden hope—but I squash it immediately. I know this knock as well as I know my own name. It’s not the soft little knock I cannot deny I’ve been hoping to hear all afternoon.

Edvear opens the door.

“Yes?” I ask, raking my hair out of my face and leaning back in my chair.

“The banquet is fast approaching, my lord. Do you care to dress appropriately?”

I glance down at my blousy white shirt, its throat strings loose, my sleeves rolled up to my elbows. My bare feet. I sigh again. I half-consider just glamouring myself for the evening, but then I remember I’ll be maintaining Stella’s glamour. Best not to stretch myself too thin in case something goes . . .sourtonight. My awareness goes to the vials in the secret compartment of my desk.

“I’ll be there in a moment,” I say, picking up my quill again.

But Edvear doesn’t leave.

“Yes?” I ask, lifting an eyebrow.

“The Lady Stella . . .”

My alertness sharpens. “Yes?”

“She’s still asleep, my lord.”

My other eyebrow joins the first. “She’s still asleep? That’s . . .” My voice trails off as I check my pocket watch. “Four hours, now?”

Poor thing. I need to stop frightening her so much. I forget how taxing close calls with death are for humans. I’ve grown too used to this dance.

“Indeed, my lord. Shall I wake her? Or would you rather leave her behind for this evening?”

I sigh, dropping my head. It seems a cruel thing to wake her when she’s clearly so exhausted. But the prospect of going without her makes my teeth tighten. It wouldn’t be a good look. Perhaps I could play it to my advantage? Maybe if I presented it like an insult to Valehaven’s hospitality . . .

“I’ll check on her,” I say, rising to my feet. “Please have someone select tonight’s clothes for me. I don’t think I have time. Did Stella’s dress arrive?”

“Indeed. Several hours ago, in fact.”

Perhaps the biggest travesty of not bringing Stella tonight would be not seeing her wear the beautiful new gown. I picked it specifically for her. It’s a mesmerizing blend of fae and human fashion, and conservative enough to be comfortable to her sensibilities. I’m probably too eager to see how she likes it.

Edvear closes the door behind him. I pause, then slip my hand along the hidden latch. It springs open, and I open the drawer. Vials of poison gleam back at me.

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