“A faeking.”
“A fae king with horns.”
Maddie rolls her eyes. “He’s called theStag King. It’s more likely he has antlers.”
I flourish my free hand. “Wow, what a difference that makes.”
“It does make a difference. And for someone who’s always telling everyone how clever and sensible she is, you should get your facts straight before spouting off about them.”
Heat rises to my cheeks. Since when does Maddie Coleman get the upper hand in an argument withme? “When did you become such a diehard fae lover? Last time I saw you in the presence of a fae, you ran screaming. You probably wet your knickers too.”
“That was a goblin, not a king,” she says. “Besides, I’d take horns, antlers, or fangs if it makes me a queen, not to mention the wealth and riches my family would be blessed with.”
My eyes bulge with the restraint it takes to keep from laughing in her face. “Well, it turns out when the Great Mother was handing out working brains, she passed you over entirely. Regardless, I have the perfect solution for us both. If you want so badly to marry the Stag King, by all means, take my place.”
Her mouth falls open, cheeks burning crimson as she processes my insult. Then with a scowl, she snaps her mouth shut and averts her gaze. “I can’t.”
“Why not? Your uncle is the mayor. He’s in charge, isn’t he?”
“My uncle is in charge of Sableton, but he has no control over the fae.”
“What does that have to do with anything? The names have already been selected. If you were chosen as backup, then why are Amelie and I involved at all?”
Her lips press into a tight line, as if it pains her to say the next words. “You were chosen by the fae. It was a choice that overrode all previous selections.”
My mind goes blank. “Why? Amelie and I have done nothing to attract the attention of the fae.”
“You weren’t selected as a pair, stupid,” Maddie says. “Youwere selected. Personally. Your sister is only involved because of you.”
I’m too shocked; I can’t even bristle at her insult this time. “I was…selected?”
“The fae ambassador requested you by name.Firstname.”
By name.My entire body goes cold.
Chapter Six
Ican do nothing but gape, words stripped from my lips as I make sense of Maddie’s statement. I was chosen by name. Me. That can mean only one thing. I’m being punished.
I think back to my visit at the faewall and the cloaked fae ambassador. He’s the only reason the fae would know me by first name and the only fae with motive to punish me. Images of my blade hovering in front of his face, ready to strike, flood my memory. But he attacked me first! Or was it my sharp tongue that sparked his ire?
It could have been anything, honestly. I frowned too much, spoke too much, spoke too little. Offended him with a misinterpreted gesture, said the wrong word in the wrong tone. Who knows what makes the fae react in anger? Why did they execute the Holstrom girls? Why did they slaughter their animals? Why did they trick Hank Osterman into sticking his hand in a bear trap?
There’s no purpose trying to figure it out. The fae are unpredictable. Dangerous. And I’m about to be the bride of one.
The fight is leached from my bones. I can’t even feel my rage anymore. Only hollowness remains.
I shove my mother’s jar on top of Maddie’s basket without a word, then turn away from the farm. Maddie calls after me, but I don’t answer; I can’t even make out what she’s saying through the sound of blood rushing through my ears.
This is all my fault.
* * *
The dark of night has fully settled in by the time I make it back to Ettings Street. My eyes are unfocused as I wander the sidewalk toward the apothecary, only narrowing when I notice a hulking shape in front of the shop. A carriage.
I stop, mind reeling as I process what time it might be. Surely it isn’t midnight yet! But the carriage parked in front of my home is undoubtedly fae. I can’t make out the color in the dark, but vines of gold twine up the edges, glinting in the moonlight. The horses at the front of the carriage are thin, dark, unearthly creatures.
With a shudder, I run to the door of the shop and dart inside. I find Mother in the parlor. Her hands are on her hips as she scowls at a figure standing in the middle of the room. He’s stout and barely taller than Mother, with neatly trimmed brown hair, pointed ears decorated with gold jewelry, and brown slanted eyes behind horn-rimmed glasses. His jacket is pristine lines of burgundy and bronze with elaborate golden clasps shaped like leaves down the front. It’s the fae I saw in the village earlier.
