Page 169 of Bride of the Midnight Prince

My awareness turns white with panic.

I grab Jack’s arm and yank him into the antechamber. I kick the door shut with my heel. “Where does this lead?” I point to the door at the other end of the chamber.

“The servants’ hallway, and then to the library!”

“Perfect.”

I launch into motion, dragging the boy after me. We hurry into yet another well-lit servants’ hallway that is almost nice enough to be any regular hallway. Jack points, and we take a door that leads into the library.

The room we careen into would have stolen my breath at any other moment in my life. The soaring ceiling is stained glass, illuminating the most luxurious space I have ever seen in my life with jeweled shades of color. Jack twists free of my grip and dives behind an enormous tapestry along one wall. I start to follow, only to find the design of the wall itself creates small pockets only a child can squeeze into without being detected.

I search around, then dart into the stacks. Watching, waiting, as a shadow that might be Rahk’s appears beneath the door. And then disappears.

Gasping breath escapes me. I slide out of the stacks, about to return to the boy, when something grabs my wrist. I choke on my swallowed scream. Then suddenly, I’m slammed backward against the wall. Both my arms pinned as though with iron vices against the tapestry. But nothing is there. I yank as hard as I can, curling my fingers into fists, but whatever invisible force pins me to the wall is relentless.

A silhouette emerges from the stacks, one shelf over from where I hid. He comes into the multicolored starlight that mingles with the low glow of fae orbs along the wall. His hands are tucked into his pockets as he strides casually toward me. A book is tucked under one arm. His head is canted to one side. Long purple robes swish with each step. He appears to be a young man, though I’ve interacted with fae long enough to know he could be thousands of years old. As all fae are, he is beautiful, with fine features and bright eyes.

I go still, refusing to glance at the place where the boy is hiding. I wait silently as he approaches. His chin jerks in one direction slightly—and then my mask is ripped from my face. It lands softly against the reflective floor. I blink and look between my fallen mask and the approaching fae.

The Starborn Prince.

I should be counting down my last seconds of life. Instead, I’m wondering:how did he just do that?

He stops two paces in front of me, his brow creasing as he regards me. “What are you doing?”

I swallow. “Robbing you, sir.”

He inclines his head in a nod. “I appreciate the honesty. You are unassuming for the infamous Ivy Mask. What are you—a girl of eighteen?”

“I will be twenty-one tomorrow,” I say between my teeth. “Are you going to kill me?”

He does not seem particularly violent or set upon my death. Instead, viewing me as a fascinating little curiosity. It is another fae game.The human provides an interesting diversion, and the fae does not immediately slaughter them.

He seems intrigued by our version of this game. Perhaps he loves games.

Just like Rahk.

A cunning light flashes in his eyes. “And keep you from facing your due penalty for your crimes? Certainly not. I believe in justice.”

Justice?He is a fae who imprisons witless humans—and my rescue of them is perverting justice? I keep my mouth shut, trying to remember Mary’s exhortations to not drive those who have power over me to further anger.

He smiles. It is cold and unamused as he takes his book, flips it open, and turns the pages until he is satisfied. Then he looks up. “I am a fae who enslaves innocent humans and so who am I to speak of justice? You’re a human in a fae world. You ought to learn to keep your face from expressing your thoughts so plainly.”

“I usually wear a mask,” I grumble between my teeth.

“What else are we supposed to do with humans who break the treaty between our peoples? The treaty that is there to ensure our lands do not become consumed in war? Rulers like me cannot step foot in your world, and yet you are allowed to enter ours with no repercussions? No, that is the price you pay to not have your world overrun by us. You agree that once you step foot in our land, you become our property. And, when you consider it, what we do is a mercy. The alternative is to let them wander through Caphryl Wood with no Path to guide them to safety, no indication of the passage of time, nothing but the endless Wood in every direction, until they are swallowed whole by monsters or drained bit by bit by the Wood itself. Without a Path, humans go mad in the Wood.”

His words bring horrible memories resurfacing. Holding my mother’s hand as she rocked in her rocking chair, staring vacantly at the wall while I sang to her. Begging her to talk to me, to look at me, to not hate me.

The Starborn Prince studies me like I am a page full of text. I suddenly wonder what my face has betrayed this time. He slams his book shut. “There is someone here who has come for you.”

“Prince Rahk of the Nothril Court,” I reply, my fear rising at the thought of him walking through that library door. Seeing me pinned to the wall by nothing, my mask at my feet.

“You know him? Should I tell him that you are here?”

The words burst from me. “No, please!”

“Why not? He doesn’t even know you’re a woman yet. The Nothril prince is well known as a skilled hunter. You’ve evaded him a long time. It is impressive.”

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