Page 22 of Beyond the Mountain (Fae's Captive 4)

He kisses my sweaty forehead and runs his hands up and down my back.

“Do you think they heard?” I whisper.

He laughs, the sound decadent. “If they didn’t hear it all the way down in Cold Comfort, then we need to do it again.”

22

Taylor

This is ridiculous. I cradle my face in my hands as the seamstress parades another set of fabrics, this one in a brocade with some sort of pretty sparkles along the pattern.

“That’s nice.” Beth munches on a plum.

“You’ve said that about every piece of fabric she’s shown us,” I mumble through my hands. “And I still haven’t even picked a design.”

“Can we get it in black?” Selene asks for the third time.

“No!” Ravella and Branala chime in together.

Nadian, the seamstress, sighs and lays the fabric on the pile of discards, then pulls a few more from her enormous case. “These colors are a bit more night realm.” Her slight cough tells me that she doesn’t care for them, but she displays them nonetheless. “Darker jewel tones with silver stitching is classic for their endless evenings, but uncommon here in winter. It would work if you want to be untraditional but could also cause a stir.”

“A stir?” I shake my head and rest it in my palms again. “This is impossible. Hopeless.”

“Let’s go back to the white.” Ravella pats me on the back. “She seemed to favor those.”

I chew my bottom lip. “I don’t know if I do. That’s a human world thing. But you said white isn’t customary for mating ceremonies here.”

Ravella glances at the door again.

“You can go.” I sigh.

“No, I don’t mind helping out with the dress stuff. It’s, um, it’s fun.”

I give her a wry look. “I’ve spent enough time with you in the Wasted Lands to know you want to be out checking security with Gareth and Brannon instead of picking fabrics with me. Go ahead.”

She takes my hands. “Thank you, my queen.”

“And knock that off. You know it’s Taylor.”

“Yes, right.” She hurries past the seamstress, grateful for her reprieve from dress duty.

“How about this one?” Nadian pulls a dark magenta fabric to the fore.

I peer at it. “Is this a normal color to choose?”

“You can choose whatever you like. You’re going to be queen.” Branala rises as a knock sounds on the door. After a quick convo, she turns and says, “Flowers,” with an excited smile, then disappears.

“Anything else in black?” Selene flops onto the bed, her chin resting on her hands and her feet kicked up behind her.

“You’re relentless.”

“I am obsidian. I do not break.” She grins.

“I’m going to get some more food.” Beth lifts the empty tray.

“Didn’t I say we need to get you checked for a tapeworm?”

“What?” She picks the last crumb from the tray and downs it. “I’m just storing up food for the winter. That’s what the animals in the winter realm do, right?”

“I know you’re just trying to escape dress duty.”

“Me? Never.” She winks and disappears out the door.

“At least I’ve still got you.” I give Selene a hopeful look.

“I think black. Black and shiny.” She nods.

I tamp down my frustration and turn back to Nadian. “Maybe I should do like a light pink? With a poof skirt?” I try to think about what would look good on me, but the problem is that I never had a real sense of style and having to develop one on my wedding day seems more than a little bit daunting. “Poof skirt says queen, right?”

“Of course you’d go amateur princess wannabe.” Cecile strides in, my doppelganger by her side.

I jump from my spot on the bed. “Cecile. Taylor. Welcome.”

“You didn’t invite us, but I heard you’re having style trouble.” Cecile’s upturned nose and haughty tone warm my heart. She’s back to her old self. Did I hate her old self? Well, yes, most of the time. But that’s neither here nor there.

She strides to Nadian who sizes her up with an arrogant stare of her own. “You’re showing her fabrics that are far too heavy for her frame.”

Nadian’s pointed ears twitch. “The winter realm favors thicker—”

Cecile waves a hand at her. “If you want her to look like a frumpy spinster, you’re on the right track. Otherwise, show me what you have in lace, tulle, and spidersilk. And don’t show me a thing unless it’s in Gladion gray or white.” She settles onto my bed, her back straight and her eyes alight.

Nadian looks at me questioningly.

I shrug. “You heard her.”

She turns on her heel, her simple black dress fanning out, and rummages through her wardrobe again.

I would thank Cecile, but I’m too fragile for the tongue-lashing she’d give me in response.

“Taylor?” I approach the other me.

She recoils a little, and I stop.

I hold my hands out, palms toward her. “I don’t blame you. I actually meant to come talk to you, but this whole mating ceremony thing sort of took me by surprise, and then Leander kept me busy all night and … Okay, just pretend I didn’t say that last part.”

She smiles a little, and I realize I’m kind of cute with my heart-shaped face and plump lips.

“No. No. No.” Cecile shoots down fabric after fabric with frightening efficiency.

I focus on the other Taylor. “But, anyway, I am so, so sorry for what I did to you.”

“Thank you.” She drops her chin a little, then meets my gaze. “I would be lying if I said I’m over it.”

My heart sinks.

Then she reaches out and takes my hand. “But I will be. I think it’ll just take some time.”

“Can you ever forgive me?” I hold my breath.

“I do if you forgive Cecile and me for sending you to Arin and landing you in the dungeon.”

“Done.” I squeeze her hand a little. “And to be honest, you sending me here is the best thing that could’ve happened to me.”

“You’re going to be a queen. That’s definitely an improvement on our dorm room.”

“You aren’t kidding.” I step closer, and she lets me embrace her. “I’m so glad that you’re here for my mating ceremony.”

“It’s the first one I’ve ever been invited to. Changelings generally don’t get to attend family events like this in the summer realm.” She starts to say something. Then stops.

“What is it?”

“It’s just something I’ve been wondering about for a long time. Could you tell me … about my mother and father?”

Cecile stands and inspects the fabrics more closely. “This white lace and this gray spidersilk. Yes. Taylor is a bit dumpy in the waist, so—”

“Hey!” The other Taylor and I both turn and glare at her.

She shrugs a thin shoulder. “I’m sorry, but it’s true. Don’t worry. You’re going to look like the perfect hourglass when I’m done.” She ignores us and begins outlining the silhouette she prefers.

I pull Taylor to the bed and we sit on the edge, our hands still clasped. “That’s a difficult topic.”

“Oh.” Her shoulders hunch a little. “I kind of suspected, I guess, when your mom—I mean, my mom—didn’t call you at all during the time I was living with Cecile at your college.”

“Yeah. Mom is …” I sigh and start off with our history. At first, it comes haltingly—the death of my father, the emotional distance, the neglect. And then it speeds up, the more painful parts pouring out of me as she listens to every word.

When I’m finally spent, the ugly truth laid out for both of us to see, she says quietly, “She let your stepfather hurt you.”

I hate hearing it, even if I know in my heart that it’s true. “She didn’t believe me. Steve was convincing, and she really wanted it to work out with him. She was lonely, I guess?”

“She sold you out.” Her shou

lders straighten. “I know what that feels like. Being a changeling slave is full of betrayals.”

“Oh, no.” I shake my head. “What I went through is nothing like your life. I can’t even imagine what you’ve had to endure.”

“It could be bad sometimes.” She nods, then looks at Cecile with such adoration in her eyes that I look, too, to make sure we’re seeing the same person. “But Cecile saved me from the worst of it. She was older than me, but we pretty much grew up together. I was like her little sister. She defied her father by taking care of me. I think at first I was like a baby doll for her to play with, but then she grew to care for me, and as I got older, I couldn’t imagine being without her.”

---