Page 10 of Bride of the Midnight Prince

I nod. Bile builds up in my mouth from the jar I conceal.

He regards me dubiously. He doesn’t look like he is about to let me get off without a rational explanation of all this. Maybe Iwon’tmake it out of here alive.

“Are you new?” he asks, his frown so deep it looks cut from marble.

I nod quickly and prostrate myself once more.

“Then take your tray and get out. You are not supposed to be in this room. If you ever return, the punishment will be severe. Understand?”

I nod, barely breathing for fear that if I make a single sound, he will change his mind and take one of those great swords—and lop off my head.

I sweep up the tray and scurry to the servant’s door. Prince Rahk remains standing, not moving a single muscle until I enter the tunnel and shut the door behind me. Even then, through the grate, his cold gaze remains fixed on me.

I turn on my tail and run as fast as I can. I spit out the jar, cradling it to my chest, expecting sudden pain to burst through my chest at any moment. Proof that the prince only meant to make methinkI was safe, when in truth he just wanted to play with his quarry before striking with the killing blow.

But nothing happens.

No one stops me as I make my escape from the Nothril Court.

Icatchuptothe tailor just as the sun dips below the horizon, back in my own clothes. “I’m so late!” I whisper to him as I rush to my brown mare. She is hitched to the cart loaded with precious human cargo. To the horse, I give half a carrot wrapped in a calming herb and say, “You’re doing so well, baby girl. We’ll get you out of this wretched fae forest in no time.”

She nuzzles into my hand, her ears cupping forward at my voice. She eats the carrot and tries to spit out the herb, but she ingests enough for it to be effective.

“That’s it. Good girl.”

“You’ve got them now?” the tailor asks, glancing around the darkening forest.

I swing up into the driver’s seat of the cart and salute him. “Don’t give us a single thought. We’ll be safe from here.”

The tailor presses folded parchment into my hand. “These are the dates I will be delivering wardrobes around Faerieland. I’ve also included the details for our big raid. I am working to get you a liquid glamour to make things easier.”

I tuck the paper into my breast pocket and give it a pat. “Excellent. Be safe.”

“You, too, Kat.”

I hold his hard gaze for one second. Then I turn to the four people huddled in the back and grin. “Hold on! We move fast. Legend says the longer you’re in the Wood, the more of your soul it steals. We’re not about to give it any more than a pinky toe’s amount of soul!”

The girl sits closest to me, shrouded in the tailor’s own cloak. The other three—a couple with a seven-year-old child—stay close together. The husband gives me a nod, holding his son close to his chest.

I click my tongue and give the reins a gentle slap to get the cart moving. I guide us onto the Path, picking it out by the very faint sparks on its edge. It’s lethally dangerous to travel through Faerieland without a Path, as I learned very quickly when I was younger. But Paths don’t show themselves easily to me, and if it weren’t for the tailor teaching me the ones I needed, I’d be as useless as any other human out here.

I’m almost blind in the darkness, but I let the sparks and my horse guide us as I drive us faster through the depths of Caphyrl Wood.

A soft touch on my elbow startles me out of my focus.

“Is everything alright?” I ask, twisting my head toward Elizabeth even as I keep my gaze focused ahead.

“Yes—I just . . . What’s your horse’s name?”

My eyebrows rise. I clamp my lips together before a chuckle escapes me at the sheer randomness of her question. “Her name is Bartholomew. Don’t judge—I named her when I was a child and didn’t know how to tell the difference between a boy horse and a girl horse.”

She actually snorts, covering her mouth with her hand.

“Careful, you’ll hurt her feelings,” I say with a quick wink. “You’ll not find an animal as perfect as her. Strong, smart as a whip, brave, with just enough quirks to keep things interesting. Now, make sure you hold onto that railing there. We’re about to enter the willowwart stretch and I don’t want anyone getting pulled out of the cart.”

Willowwart cannot touch us while we’re on the Path, but she doesn’t know that and obediently ducks back down. Everyone stays low when the trees turn long and thin, their branches like whips that stir at our passing. Twice, one of those branches snaps overhead, and once they try to grab a cart wheel.

But we’re safely on the Path, and we quickly move past them.

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