Page 5 of Bound to the Fae Assassin

She glanced around for a group of the Blueguards that patrolled the roads in and out of town, but there was no one in sight. She was all alone in the blue-green fields.

Inhaling the sweet scent of the pale wild clover that dotted the grass, she grabbed her skirts with one hand and jogged toward the wall, unwilling to waste a moment of her rare freedom.

As she approached, the foliage grew more dense. It was hard to say if that was due to some residual magic, or simply that there was little foot traffic. The shadow of the wall should have discouraged heavy growth, but thick shrubbery and clinging vines seemed determined to scale the stone barrier, like they were trying to get back to the true wilds of the Fae lands that lay beyond.

Whatever the reason, it was a great place to gather ingredients. So many unexpected things grew along the wall that it was hard not to let herself get carried away with the possibilities.

She reminded herself sternly that she was only looking for wild onions to make cheddar chive biscuits. Spicy onions were flavorful, but they were excellent for focus, especially when she whispered to them. The young men traveling back to the capital for university tomorrow morning would definitely be back for more when exams rolled around, if she could get a good batch done.

Farrow tried to imagine what the capital must look like. The handful of university boys from the village were always so impeccably dressed and so serious when they returned home for breaks. If she ever went there, would she come back pensive too?

“You’ll never find out, Farrow Barton,” she whispered to herself. “So, no need to wonder.”

She spotted a clump of bright green shoots peeking out of the thicket.

“There you are,” she whispered.

But as she bent to dig up the onions, she caught movement out of the corner of her eye.

She wasn’t alone after all.

Chapter 4

Farrow

Farrow straightened and spun around quickly, half-expecting a bird to fly off or an animal to dart shyly back into the trees.

Instead, she found herself looking up at a man.

He was tall and lightly muscled. Though his white shirt was torn and soiled, and his breeches were tattered, his posture was proud. Long, dark hair skimmed his shoulders, and his eyes were a piercing, storm-cloud gray.

But it was the pointed tips of his ears, peeking through that curtain of dark hair that set her heart pounding.

“Are you…?” she heard herself ask softly.

He nodded once, surprising her, until she remembered her father telling her once that the Fae folk could not lie.

A thousand questions lit up her mind. But they all got tangled on her tongue when he leaned close.

Somewhere in the distance, a horn sounded.

“The King’s men come so often,” he murmured to her. “If they find me, there will be blood.”

There was something unsettling about him. It was as if he were under a different current of air than she was. His hair lifted and swirled slightly, almost like he was underwater, and she found it hard to focus on his face.

“This way,” she told him, ripping her eyes from his and scurrying toward a stand of trees.

There was no sound behind her, but when she glanced over her shoulder, she saw he was following.

It was dark under the trees in the shadow of the wall. Farrow had discovered it was the perfect hiding spot when she had stayed out hunting herbs past curfew.

“Here,” she showed him. “You’ll be invisible in shadow.”

He stepped into the corner between a buttress of the wall and a baby oak, effectively cloaking himself in darkness.

“Stay until you hear the hoofbeats disappear,” she told him, leaning slightly into the shadow so she could see that he understood.

Those stormy gray eyes fixed on hers again, and she saw something in them that looked like pain.

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