1
Ikilled the first boy I kissed, and if I ever press my lips to another’s, he won’t be the last. And I do very much hope he’s the last. Not because I dislike kissing. Had it been with someone I tolerated a little more, I could have enjoyed the kiss. That is, if he hadn’t stumbled back from me in the middle of it, choking on the taste of my lips.
Kissing is fine. It’s the killing I’m not so fond of.
Regardless of what I do and don’t like, the truth remains that there are very few options on the Isle of Faerwyvae for a killer like me. The first, of course, is prison. Since I’m fae—a selkie—that could mean an immortal lifetime in a cage. The second option is exile from the isle. That wouldn’t be too terrible if it didn’t mean death as well. Any fae who leaves the protective magical barrier surrounding the isle for an extended period forfeits their lengthy lifespan. Then there’s the third option. Punishment. Since the isle of Faerwyvae is ruled by the fae, lawbreakers are punished according to our ancient ways. Primarily through horrendous, bone-chilling bargains and curses.
Admittedly, as a runaway princess, there’s a good chance I’d escape the worst form of these punishments thanks to my father’s influence as Seelie King of the Sea Court.
But there’s a fourth option reserved just for me. A secret demise worse than all the first three combined. One that has sent me on the run for over a year…
Which, of course, leads me to option five. My favorite.
It’s calledhide forever.
And where better to hide than the bright, boisterous city of Lumenas?
Hands in the pockets of my brown tweed coat, I stroll down the busy downtown city streets, jostled by distracted passersby. No one looks my way, for there are far more interesting things to ogle than a pink-haired fae girl wearing an oversized cap and men’s trousers. With my pointed ears—a feature only pureblood fae have—hidden beneath my cap, I could even pass for human if one didn’t look too hard. But if anyone did notice, it wouldn’t matter, for Lumenas is home to humans and fae in equal measure.
I turn down Halley Street, where the sidewalk is nearly packed end-to-end with tourists. The street crawls with pedestrians, coaches, and even an automobile or two. Sound blares from all around—horse hooves, horns, music, and laughter. After living here for a year, I’m used to it, but I remember how shocking it had been at first. I thought my head would explode from the noise, and it made me miss my quiet little lagoon back home. Now the chaos is nothing more than a colorful backdrop.
Best of all, it aids me in my line of work.
A human couple stops a few feet in front of me, entranced as they stare up at a sky-high building made of pink marble covered in iridescent electric bulbs. Lumenas is the type of city that is even brighter at night than it is during the day. It’s half past midnight and the sky is black, but the street is lit up brighter than the sun. I couldn’t see the stars right now if I tried. A strange contradiction for a city located in the Star Court—one of the eleven fae courts that comprise Faerwyvae.
“Excuse me,” I mutter, pretending to stumble as my shoulder comes up against the man’s. He neither acknowledges me nor the hand that slips from my pocket into his, coming away with a brass pocket watch.
Too easy,I think with a smirk as I drop the watch into my satchel. I feel movement from within the bag, followed by a muffled male voice. “That’s a nice one, Maisie.”
“Podaxis,” I hiss from a corner of my mouth, “how many times must I remind you? You can’t say that name anymore. It’s Pearl, remember?”
My satchel moves again as a pair of red pincers lifts the top flap. Although I can’t see his beady eyes hidden in the depths of my bag, I can imagine the worried look on Podaxis’ crab-like face. “Yes. Sorry, Your Highness. I mean, Pearl. You know it’s hard for me to use that name. It’s like lying.”
“It’s not lying,” I say, although it sort of is. Full-blood fae, like me and Podaxis, are incapable of stating any direct lie. We can, however, bend the truth quite a bit. It’s all about intent. “My name meanspearl. That’s true enough.”
“I know, I know,” he mutters, then closes the flap again.
If I were anywhere else, I’d be worried about someone spotting me talking to my bag. But not here. Not when there are so many far more exciting things to look at no matter where you turn—winged men juggling everything from bunnies to knives, musicians pounding drums and bowing fiddles upon makeshift stages, beautiful nymphs dangling from lampposts, performing acrobatic feats on silk ropes. And that’s just this block alone.
At the northern tip of the Star Court, Lumenas is widely known as the musical capital of Faerwyvae, home to more music halls, opera houses, and theaters than anywhere else on the isle. But it has also collected several less savory monikers. Den of Debauchery. Gambler’s Ruin. Devil’s Delight. Thief’s Paradise. At the end of the day, Lumenas is a city teeming with wealthy humans on holiday. They may be drawn in by the beauty and the art, but they stay for the thrill.
Meanwhile, I stay for the subterfuge. The perfect place to hide, where a princess can shed her identity and never be found. Here, I’m just a grain of sand on the seashore. Invisible. Inconsequential. Just a girl dressed as a boy, lifting trinkets from pockets as smoothly as the girls in the Orchid Garden lift their skirts.
I scan the crowds until my attention narrows on a group of humans clustered around an antlered fae male spouting poetry on the corner. He’s dressed in nothing but a ruffled pink skirt and red suspenders, revealing a barrel chest and thick, sculpted calves that have several human females in his audience swooning. Their husbands seem torn between watching their smitten wives or the fae that’s stolen their attention, making them the perfect target. I weave through the crowd and come up behind one man, jabbing my elbow into his side. He surges away, bumping the man next to him. The second man stumbles and rounds on the first with a scowl and a curse. At that moment, I skirt around to the other side of the second man and extract a velvet money pouch from his coat pocket. In its place, I leave a book of matches.
Easy.
By the time I reach the corner of Halley Street and Third, I’ve added a necklace, a bracelet, and a ruby earring to my satchel. If my bag wasn’t already so heavy with Podaxis inside, it certainly is now. I’m about to turn down Third, ready to call it quits for the night, when something catches my eye back on Halley. A group of well-dressed aristocrats linger outside the doors of the Diamonde Opera House, laughing and chatting next to a coach-and-four. The men wear their finest frock coats, top hats, and silk cravats, while the woman nearest me boasts a close-fitting black evening gown, white gloves, and a dainty beaded purse on her wrist. But that’s not what has my attention. It’s the hair ornament she wears at the back of her head, just below a cluster of neatly pinned curls. It’s a comb shaped like a seashell, silver inlaid with iridescent mother-of-pearl. My nose twitches at the sight of it, a sensation much like the precursor to a sneeze. It's the same thing that always happens when I spot any particularly tempting piece of treasure.
My bag shifts as Podaxis shuffles the flap aside. This time, he peers over the top. “Don’t do it, Mais—Pearl. You know what happens on this side of Third.”
“I know,” I mutter without taking my eyes off the comb. He’s right. East of Third Avenue, Halley Street hosts far more prestigious clientele than the artful chaos on the west side. Here, the streets are far less busy, the sounds coming from the theaters softer and more melodious, which adds up to higher chances of getting caught stealing. Not to mention the city jail is a block east of here.
“We have enough for tonight,” Podaxis says, a plea in his voice. “More importantly, I’d rather we didn’t go back to jail.”
“That was one time and only for what, fifteen minutes?” I release a sigh. “I really want that comb.”
“Why do I even bother?” His voice dissolves into a grumble as he sinks back into the depths of my satchel.
