One.
I inhale deeply and throw back my shoulders.
Two.
I stride to the center of the room and plant myself there, arms crossed.
Three.
I lift my chin and pull my lips into a haughty grin.
Four.
The door handle turns. I narrow my eyes and hide behind my false persona.
Five.
In storms the alpha, stomping with his foot and his staff, a snarl on his lips. The same two fae as before—the dark haired male and the elderly female—flank him, pulling up close behind.
I march forward to meet him halfway. “You have some nerve locking me in here without a fire. I demand you remedy this at once.”
He halts and retreats a step back, nearly stumbling as he eyes me from head to toe. “You dare make demands of me?”
“If you’re planning on holding me for ransom, you should probably make sure you stay true to your word.”
He blinks a few times as if I’ve grown a second head. “Excuse me?”
“In the letter you were writing to my father, you stated I was unharmed. But you lied. I was left in a cold room in sodden clothing without a fire. If fae can’t lie, what do you call that?”
His hand flies to his chest, and a grimace begins to twist his features. “You are fine,” he says through his teeth. “You found dry clothes.”
I pop my hip to the side. “No thanks to you. I had to free myself to find them.”
He closes his eyes as if overcome with excruciating pain. My confidence falters as I watch him, his face screwed tight as he grasps his chest. Is this what happens when fae lie? They’re punished with physical pain? But who punishes them? Some mysterious force…or themselves?
“I didn’t send the letter,” he says in a rush. “I lied to no one. No one!” At that, his features begin to smooth, his ragged breathing growing even. When he opens his eyes, he burns me with a glare. His words come out like a growl. “You’re unharmed.”
“Until I have a proper fire, I fail to agree with you. I’m in danger of hypothermia.”
“Blackbeard,” he says, and the male fae takes a step forward. Keeping his eyes on me, the alpha says, “Do you still have the unfinished letter?”
Blackbeard—a most uncreative name, if you ask me—removes a piece of paper from his trouser pockets.
“Tear it up.”
Blackbeard obeys, ripping the paper in half. Then again. And again.
With every shred, the alpha seems to relax more and more, which in turn sets me further on edge. I feel my false persona slipping, the frightened girl in threat of being revealed. Once the letter is reduced to litter on the floor, the alpha’s lips pull into a smirk.
I swallow my fear and keep my head held high as he closes the distance between us. I’m surprised to find I must crane my neck to meet his gaze; I’m used to being of equal height to most men, if not taller. It’s disconcerting, to say the least.
“Did you mean what you said about your father? That he won’t fall for my ruse?”
“If you’re trying to trick him into making a sacrifice based on gratitude, there’s nothing in the world he’d sacrifice for me. In fact, I’m certain there’snothingin this world he’d be willing to make even the smallest sacrifice for.” While I’m not sure how much truth lies in my last statement, my tone holds all the conviction I can muster.
He sighs. “A shame. It would seem you’re of little use to me then. You’re expendable, really.”
The blood leaves my face. “No, I—”
