Page 94 of Bride of the Fae Prince

Her eyes shutter closed again, and her limp hand falls from my wrist. She goes still.

Frantically, I search for a pulse, my vision almost turning black. She can’t be gone. Shecan’tbe. I won’t allow it! I won’t—

There’s her pulse. Sluggish, but steady.

I let out a long whoosh of held breath, release my hold on her, and slump. I run my hand down my face, groaning and fightingyet another wave of desperate tears. Mountains of Ildrid, I can’t take this! I’ll be mad by the end of the week.

Chapter 33

The Princess

I cannot find it!I’ve been searching fordays,for weeks! It’s not here. But Iknowit’s here. A frustrated whimper escapes me as I plunge deeper into the halls of my childhood home. Shadows coalesce around me, and every few minutes, one of them will flicker into something I recognize: Amelia’s grin, Father’s clenched fist or his furrowed brow, a flash of petticoat and brocade.

None of it is what I’m looking for.

I shove past the shadows, fighting the instinct to reach out and grab Amelia’s hand. If I do, her shadow will simply melt through my fingers. It’s pointless.

Nothing matters until I canfind it.

Whateveritis.

I’ve looked almost everywhere. My rooms, the main floors of the palace, the servants’ quarters. Even the throne room, the banquet halls, and my father’s private study. I’m not sure why, but this palace doesn’t feel like my true home anymore, as though my connection to it has worn thin.

There’s just one place I haven’t gone . . .

I shake my head. It’s somewhere else. I should go back to Father’s study, to the tearoom. Picking up my skirts, I hurry up another flight of stairs. My breathing turns labored, which seems odd. I’ve been running for ages. Why am I getting tired now?

Stella.

I pause, chest heaving, ear tilted toward the ceiling. I know that voice. When I try to place it, it’s like trying to remember a dream after I’ve woken up. It slips into the ether, further and further away. But my body, my very soul, knows this voice. It calls to me, warms something deep inside of me.

It makes me feel loved, cared for.

I want to hear it again.

Stella, darling.

I close my eyes, ducking my head instinctively to hide my smile. Why am I smiling? Why do I love when this voice says my name, calls me sweet things? Where is it coming from?

My mother used to sing lullabies to me when I was sick or hurt. Something about her song always soothed me, even when I was most miserable. There was one time when I . . . well, you’ll think this is very foolish of me, but I drank some poison at the goading of my friends. Have no fear, I paid the price for my folly.

This voice is so rich, so deep. And I am so very winded. Maybe for a few moments, I’ll just sit here and listen . . .

I was sick for days. I’ve never felt so awful in my entire life, and I cried like a baby when I couldn’t fall asleep for how much pain I was in. If you were awake, you’d probably arch one of those pretty eyebrows and tell me it served me right. It did, of course. But can’t you have a little pity? No one told me we didn’t have the antidote for this poison!

I sit on the top stair, leaning against the railing, smiling as I listen. I wish I knew who this voice belonged to! Whoever it is, he likes my eyebrows, apparently.

My mother heard my cries and came. At that moment, it was as though I looked on an angel of salvation from my misery! She’d never looked so beautiful to me. She clucked her tongue, running her fingers through my sweaty hair. I still remember the soothing way her thumb traced along my forehead. Like this. But imagine it being much softer. My thumb is probably too rough.

My eyelids hang heavily. What if I just stopped searching, took a little nap? Then I could . . . start searching again . . . later . . .

I lower myself to the floor. The polished tile is cold against my cheek, but it’s oddly soothing. My skirts flare down half the staircase, like a waterfall of silk and crystal.

Then she sang to me, and I’d never heard a more beautiful song. I forgot everything as I listened, and finally, I fell asleep. What do you say, darling? Shall I sing it for you?

Yes,I whisper back, the word barely a breath between my lips.Sing to me.

I’ll take that as a yes. But of course, you cannot tell anyone that I sang you a lullaby. It would ruin my reputation.

---