“You know I was never much for mending.” I walk over to her and try to keep my composure. There’s no point crying now. Not when magic has sealed the agreement between the day king and me. A vow like that—I can’t break it. If I do, the magic would likely take my life as payment. I must go, no matter how much I want to stay. I rest my hand on her shoulder. “In the time it takes me to darn a sock, you can sew two dresses and an apron. I’m not half the seamstress you are. You know that.”
“I know, but you’remine.” Her voice breaks on a sob. “Mine, Emma. My only one. My special one.”
When she looks up at me with tears in her eyes, it’s a struggle for me to keep my chin from wobbling. Then I fail, my own tears rolling down my cheeks. “Mama,” I choke out.
She rises and pulls me into her arms.
I lean on her, trying to gain strength, to take as much of her with me as I can. We hold each other so long that the Dayland guard peeks in, his eyes stern. Our time is up. My time here is over. Will I ever return to the Nightlands and dance with the witches in the dark, dreamy woods?
“I thought I’d get to keep you, that’s all.” Mama sniffles. “I thought you’d stay.”
“I don’t want to leave.” I can barely breathe from the tightness of her embrace, but I can’t seem to let her go.
She takes a deep breath, and it only hitches once right in the middle. “But you must. You must,” she says, as if telling it to herself.
She pulls back and puts a calloused hand to my cheek. “Of course he chose you, Emma.”
“I thought you said I’d missed my chance for the easy, pampered life?” I try to smile, but I can’t seem to make it. Instead, more tears fall.
“He will treat you well. I saw him, saw his eyes. He’s a hard fae, but not cruel.” She glances at the door, then whispers in my ear, “Set a store aside for yourself if you can. Gold, jewels he gives, anything of value. Make your own little dragon hoard, so if the times comes when you want to return home, you can pay your way back to me. Be strong. You are far tougher than you know.”
“All right.” I wipe my cheeks.
“Good.” She sniffles. “And give him what he wants.” She glances southward. “All of it.”
“Mama.” I roll my eyes.
“Make him happy, and he’ll treat you well.” She clasps my hands. “Mayhap you’ll get some enjoyment out of it, too.”
Now my cheeks are on fire. “Mama,” I groan again.
“Don’t ‘Mama’ me. I know the pleasure of males. How do you think you got here?”
“Okay, that’s it. I’m out. Moment over.” I grab my sad little sack of clothes.
She grips my shoulders, her eyes still glittering with unshed tears. “I love you, my dearest one. I will always be here waiting for you to return.”
I swallow hard at the seriousness of her words. “I love you, too.”
One more embrace. That’s all I allow myself before I turn to the door. If I look back, I’ll crumble. So I don’t. I walk out of our cottage with my head high. Am I going to be the king’s whore? Yes. But I will not cower, not hide. I’ve done this for the other women in town who have lovers, husbands, and children. For my friends.
And just as I think it, I see them. The women from the stage have formed two lines at the entrance to the square.
“Thank you,” they each say as I pass.
Except Lysetta. She just glares.
Some squeeze my hand or give me small packages of food. I even get a pretty pink scarf from Rala. Maybe being the king’s whore has perks. I wrap the scarf around my neck and steel my spine as I trudge into the square. Many villagers hover at the edges, their eyes on me, and some whisper prayers to the Ancestors on my behalf. I’ve never been so popular. Too bad I have to leave my newfound fame behind.
The king—his broad shoulders and narrow waist admittedly desirable, his tanned face undoubtedly handsome, and his golden eyes undeniably bright—acknowledges me with a simple jerk of his chin. Hmph. I take back all those “handsome” thoughts.
“This way.” His gruff companion marches up and hurries me toward a wagon. When he swings the back open, I stare at the fancy pillows and fabrics inside. Now my scarf looks a bit sad in comparison.
“Allow me.” The king is at my back, his warmth seeping through my clothes as if he brought the sun with him.
The sun. I can’t even imagine it. Will it burn me?
“My lady.” He offers his hand, his beguiling eyes laughing at me. “Your carriage awaits.”
