His concern makes me uneasy, both the depth of it and the affability with which it’s bestowed upon me. We’ve hardly spoken since we met, yet somehow he seeks to protect me. To care. Perhaps not all fae are as monstrous as I thought.
Still, his gaze makes me uncomfortable, his nearness reminding me too much of what it was like to be enraptured by his brother’s glamour. “I’ll be careful,” I say, moving to my door.
He offers me a bow, and I return it with a curtsy. I watch him stroll down the hallway and out of sight before I slip into my room. As I close my door, I’m almost certain I see a dark figure looming at the other end of the hall.
* * *
My sleep is fitful, but I do finally manage to catch a few hours of rest. When I wake, it’s to the subtle sound of birdsong, an oddly harmonious blend of gull cries, raven caws, and songbird melodies coming from every direction around the palace. The lilting tunes are both familiar and strange, reminding me of the siren song last night.
That, of course, brings more unpleasant memories—the king, his closeness, my loss of control, his brother’s warning.
I can tell it’s morning by how the sunlight blazes upon my eyelids, but I don’t want to open them to confirm it. Perhaps if I keep them closed, the day will never proceed, and I won’t have to leave this room. I smother my face in my pillow, then reach my hand beneath it until my fingertips touch my dagger. Safe. I’m safe. I’m in control.
I feel the weight of the bed shift next to me, followed by a peaceful sigh. “This is the most luxurious bed I’ve ever had the pleasure to lie in,” comes Amelie’s voice.
“How many beds besides your own have you lain in?” I tease, my words muffled in my pillow.
“Not nearly enough.” Her tone is wistful. “I should have taken Magnus to bed, or at least behind the stables after he proposed. Can you believe Bertrand is the last man to have his hand down the front of my corset? What an unpleasant fact!”
I’m surprised she’s able to speak of such matters so lightheartedly. It wasn’t more than a day ago that she was sobbing uncontrollably over leaving home. Finally, I roll toward my sister and open my eyes. I flick her on her shoulder. “I thought you liked Bertrand!”
“Well, I did. But that was before Magnus.”
“And now?” I ask. “Would you marry Bertrand if it meant we could go back to the way things were? Before we were sent here, I mean.”
Her eyes unfocus, smile slipping from her lips, but she doesn’t reply. She rolls onto her back, staring at the ceiling. I follow suit, noticing for the first time the canopy of red and gold leaves painted there in hyper-realistic detail.
Another sigh escapes Amelie’s lips. “Do you think we could come to be happy here?”
I turn my head to face her, shocked at her words. “Happy?Here?”
She blushes, then rushes on to say, “I mean, I don’t think I’ll ever love the Stag King. He’s too mean. But…do you think this arrangement could come to be worth it? This beautiful palace, these amazing luxuries. They’re all ours!”
I hate to dampen her optimism, but I must be the voice of reason. She’ll only get her heart broken if I don’t. “Ami, we’ve been here less than a day. Just because they fed us, put us in a luxurious bedroom, and gave us an endless supply of gowns doesn’t mean we’re safe. The fae are dangerous.”
“I know.”
I sit up. “Do you, though? Do you have any idea what they’re capable of, what they could do to us?”
She gives me a pointed look. “I know more than anyone what they’re capable of, Evie. But what if all fae aren’t…well, you know. Evil?”
“If you’re thinking the fae here are worthy of your trust, you should reconsider. Have you forgotten what they did to the Holstrom sisters?”
She rolls her eyes. “No, of course I haven’t.”
I open my mouth to say more, to tell her what Cobalt hinted at last night, but I stop myself. I want her to be smart, not terrified. Instead, I say, “You need to be careful with King Aspen.”
“Yet another thing I already know.”
“Reallycareful.”
She stands from the bed and faces me with her arms crossed. “Why must I be careful while you get to go on acting the same way you always do?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I saw the way you looked at King Aspen. You could have melted iron with that scowl, and he noticed too. But did you lose your head? No.”
“True, but King Aspen isn’t my husband-to-be. He’s yours.”
