Glancing toward the window, she noticed a white box with a red bow balancing precariously on the sill. She set the letter aside and crossed the room to inspect the mysterious package.
A heavy object shifted inside as she shook the box. Curious, she untied the bow and wiggled the top free. A scream escaped her upon seeing the horror inside, and she threw the box on reflex.
Her heart raced as she stared at the floor, knowing, without a doubt, that someone had played a cruel joke on her. She’d been stupid to think a fae would… what? Claim her? Pre-love her? The letter hadn’t explained much.
Slowly, she toed the box out of the way and bent over thecreepy doll on the ground. It had white porcelain skin with red dots on its cheeks, unmoving blue eyes, and long, dark hair.
She’d never liked dolls and never understood how they didn’t scare other children. Even at thirteen, she wanted nothing more than to set it on fire. Huffing, she stomped to her bed to grab the letter… but it was gone.
Spinning around, she scanned every surface in her room.Where did it go?Letters don’t magically disappear.
Unease slipped down her spine, and her eyes slid back to the doll. Perhaps she’d been half asleep and imagined the letter.
“Were you really sad a few days ago?”
She had been. Earlier that week, while walking home from school, Amelia found a poor rabbit half dead in the snow. Unable to leave it, she’d carried it all the way across Friya, the small village she lived in, to the livestock healer.
He’d taken one look at the helpless creature and said it was cruel to let it live. Its injury was too severe, and it would suffer a slow death.
Amelia cried when the healer carried it away. She’d never liked seeing animals hurt, and while she knew hunting was crucial to survival, when hunters carted their kills through the village, she had to look away.
It was possible Ana or Farrah saw her crying and wrote the letter, but not even their evil could make letters disappear. More proof she’d imagined it. Looking at the doll again, she gritted her teeth because, letter or not, someone snuck into her room.
But if the letterhadbeen from a fae, he might have enchanted it. Taking no chances, she walked to her tiny desk and pulled out a piece of paper, an inkwell, and a quill.
Dear Nick,
Screw you.
Not Sincerely,
Amelia
P.S. I’m sorry about your mom.
She folded it neatly and set it on her windowsill. If “Nick” came back, she wanted her message received loud and clear.
The first light of dawn filtered through the rainbow leaves, creating a kaleidoscope of colors above Rennick’s head on his morning run. On an average day, he waited until the sun rose completely before running through the dense forest, but he’d been out there most of the night.
Sleeping or sitting still proved to be impossible, and he thought training would help tire him out.
He’d thought wrong.
Another several hours of running, climbing, and any other training he could do alone to help pass the time, droned by slowly. Finn should have returned from the Human Kingdom, and Rennick’s patience wore thin.
They’d decided Finn would leave early enough the night before to arrive at the orphanage by dinner time, then he’d glamour himself to slip in unnoticed and figure out which girl was Amelia because they had no idea what she looked like or which room was hers.
Once Finn gathered the information, he was to stay the night at a local inn and return to the orphanage before dawn to deliver the letter. He’d have to wait for her to wake up and read it before stealing the letter back and heading home, and Rennick hadn’t considered that Amelia may be a late sleeper.
“He’s almost home,” a warm voice said.
Rennick spun around to face his father. “Who?” He couldn’t mean Finn. No one knew of their plan.
His father laughed, the sound deep and comforting. At six foot four with a wide frame, his father looked like a larger, older version of Rennick. His dark hair had hardly any grey, but his eyes showed evidence of his humorous nature.
Those eyes crinkled now, and Rennick knew he’d been caught.
“Did you think my warriors would allow a thirteen-year-old boy across into the Human Kingdom with a permit signed by you and not tell me?”
