I grit my teeth, mind whirling to come up with a solution, one that sets me free and leaves my father out of this. I’m not entirely sure he’d come for me, no matter how much or how little I’m ransomed for. He may have regained his wealth, but would he dare spend it to rescue me from a situation such as this? One that I clearly got myself into while acting against his rules and demands? I don’t know how much time has passed since I’ve been gone, but Nina and Susan could already be telling him where I am and what I’ve done. He’s probably spinning into a rage as it is. If he learns I’ve not only gone to a job interview, but also been tricked and held for ransom…
“I lied,” I say, lifting my chin. “I am rich. But don’t take the money from my father, make a deal with me instead. If you let me go, I’ll give you twice as much as you’re planning on asking from him.”
He lets out a low chuckle. “I don’t want money.”
I blink a few times. “Then why the hell are you holding me for ransom?”
He clenches his jaw. “The ransom, stupid human, is a front. When he comes to do the trade, he’ll find you surrounded by brigands.” The other two fae nod excitedly. “Then I, a brave hero, will step in and defeat them, handing you off to your father unharmed.”
I stare blankly at their proud expressions. “Why?”
“He’ll be grateful. When he sees I’ve saved both his daughter and his fortune, he’ll be overwhelmed with gratitude. So much that he’ll be willing to sacrifice that which he holds dear. Of his own free will and volition, of course.”
So that’s what this is about. It’s that same riddle he kept spouting off about before. For some unfathomable reason, he seeks a sacrifice from a willing human. But what’s even harder to imagine is his assumption my father will…will…
Throwing my head back, I erupt with laughter. “You think my father will begratefulto havemereturned unharmed. Me!”
He frowns, eyes narrowing to slits. “That’s the entire point of phase two,” he says, although his tone is stripped of bravado. “If phase one fails, we target someone back home who desperately loves our captive.”
It takes several moments to sober from my laughter, and when I do, I can still hardly form my words. “That may have worked for you before, but it won’t with my father, I promise you that much.”
“It’s actually never worked before,” the fae at the bureau whispers, scratching his dark beard.
The alpha burns him with a glare. “That doesn’t mean we won’t try. It’s a solid plan.”
“You picked the wrong girl, wolf man,” I say, shaking my head as my laughter renews. “There’s no sacrifice small enough that my father would make for me.”
Especially if he thinks I’ve landed in yet another scandal. I keep that part to myself, of course.
His face burns beet red beneath the scruff, lips peeling back into a snarl. “Then you can simply rot in here forever!” With that, he turns and stalks out the door, hobbling on his staff. His two henchmen follow, eyeing me with disdain before they turn off the light and close me into darkness.
8
In the absence of my adrenaline, fear, and even my momentary amusement over the wolf fae’s ridiculous plan, all I feel is cold. It seeps through my bones, chills my legs where my dress and petticoats have absorbed moisture from all the snow I traipsed through while running from the wolves. Strands of my damp, dark hair have come loose and are plastered to my cheeks. I can hardly feel my sodden feet in my boots, which might be a blessing, for I’m sure they will ache when feeling returns to them.
As my eyes adjust to the dark, I crane my neck this way and that, taking a deeper investigation of my surroundings. There are two large windows, both of which have the heavy curtains drawn shut to block the light, allowing only the palest haze to creep through. At the edge of my periphery, I see a bed, one that was probably once elegant with its four carved wooden posts and its thick brocade blanket. However, I can tell even in the dim light how dusty it is.
I scan the rest of the room, noting the bureau, hearth, wardrobe, wash station, sitting area, all equally as unused and unkempt. It makes me wonder if these wolf fae have broken into an abandoned vacation home and took up residence to plot their vile schemes. I still can’t imagine what would possess the wolf creatures to go through the trouble of trying to tease a sacrifice from a human. Is it just for fun? Is this what the fae do when they’re bored? Or is there an actual reason?
And don’t even get me started on that despicable alpha wolf. Even in this dark room, I can still see that stupid smirk, hear his grating voice when he tried to dictate the ransom note. Fool. They’re all fools.
Ugh. I suppose I’m the bigger one for being caught by them.
The door creaks open, making me jump with a start, pulse racing as I steel myself for the next confrontation. Light shines from the hall, casting the figure who enters the room in shadow. I frown, seeing how much shorter this one is than the three I met before. The figure lifts a hand toward the wall, and the lights in the room begin to glow, orbs of light hovering above several sconces that look like oil lamps. But like the electricity in Vernon, I know it comes not from oil but from the ley lines that traverse the land. Fae magic.
The figure shuts the door and leans against it, a tray in his hands, eyes wide and assessing. That’s when I realize it’s a boy. A young boy, looking no older than eight. Dressed like the street urchins I saw in Bretton, he wears too-short trousers, worn boots, fraying suspenders, and a tan shirt that was probably at one point white. Upon his head of overlong hair is a gray cap, sitting just above his pointed ears.
I look from him to the tray he carries, which holds a glass of water and a heel of bread. It hasn’t been nearly long enough for me to feel any kind of desperate hunger, but the water makes me realize how dry my mouth has become. Pulling my lips into what I hope to be a comforting smile, I say, “Is that for me?”
His brows furrow over his dark eyes as he approaches. “Try to escape, and my packmates will get you as soon as you reach the door. Try anything with me and I’ll bite your arm off.”
The smile slides from my lips. This must be one of the smaller wolves I met during the feigned attack. Which means, boy or not, he’s dangerous.
He sets the tray a few feet in front of me, then skirts around the chair to the back. I feel the ropes begin to loosen from around my wrists. “Remember, I bite,” he says with a growl, but I can’t help noticing the mild tremor in his voice. As if he’s…afraid of me.
With my hands free, I lift my arms, careful to make no sudden movements as I place my hands in my lap. Everything in me wants to shake them out, to stretch, but the wary look in the boy’s eyes has me trying to keep as still as possible. If he says he’ll bite, I’m partial to believe it.
Giving me a wide berth, he returns to the tray and hands it to me. As soon as I take it from him, he darts back, teeth bared.
