Briony Rose squares her shoulders and plants her feet in a wide stance, fingers curled into fists. She wears the same outfit she had on when last I saw her, though her hair has been expertly pinned in an elegant updo, a small black hat with a mauve ribbon and pink peonies perched stylishly upon her head.
My heart leaps in surprise at seeing her, but I hide it from my face. Training my words beneath a mask of disinterested calm, I stare down at her through narrowed eyes. “So you came for revenge after all. Make your first move. I won’t stop you.”
“I came to talk,” she says, her words slow. Even. Not an ounce of fear on her face. “Unless you want me to make a scene, we’ll speak in private.”
I almost laugh. How foolish I was to think she would have succumbed to sorrow. I extend my hand toward where I’d been traveling. “We can speak in my apartment. It is just inside and up the stairs.”
She scoffs. “I think not, Mr. Blackwood. We’ll speak privately but in the open. Come.” She whirls on her heel and marches away from me, in the exact direction I just offered to take her.
Clenching my jaw against the irritation that courses through me, I follow her into the alley. She stops just behind the bakery, several feet from the door that leads to my apartment. Does she not realize where we are? That this is my territory? My bakery? My second home? Shaking my head at her foolishness, I halt before her, leaving ample space between us. I haven’t a clue what she has planned for me, whether she’s concealed a weapon or is simply here to threaten my reputation—the latter of which I’ve been anticipating for days. While I’m willing to meet her fury, I won’t take her turn at revenge lying down. Better I don’t get too close.
I fold my arms and wait for her to make her move.
And yet…
All she does is stare, studying me through slitted lids.
I arch a brow. “So…what did you come to talk to me about?”
She stares at me for a few uncomfortably long beats more. Then, with a sigh, she briefly closes her eyes. A smile stretches across her lips as her eyelids flutter open. She takes a small step closer. “You, Mr. Blackwood, are going to do exactly as I say. We are going to make a bargain and you are going to agree to every term.”
I huff a laugh. Then another. “I think you have our roles reversed, Miss Rose. It is I who can command you to do whatever I wish. With one word, I can have you forget you were ever here. I can order you to leave. To dance naked in the streets, should I wish it.”
She tilts her head to the side. “Do you wish to see me naked again so badly? Shame on you, Mr. Blackwood. But no, you won’t be making any demands with the bond you’ve forged between us. If you utter even a word of command, you’ll find yourself on the wrong end of a knife, and this time, the blade won’t miss. I’ve surmised enough to know you have some fae blood, but if I cut the right artery enough times, you can bleed out before your fae healing kicks in. Remember those words? You see, I learned a thing or two about sharp knives when we last met.”
“Yes, but I let you cut me then,” I say, scanning her figure for any sign of the weapon in question. Her hands remain curled at her sides, empty of any such knife. I lift my eyes to hers again. “I’ll do you the honor of wounding me, but I won’t allow you to strike a killing blow.”
“You won’t have a choice.”
“How so?”
“Because you can’t move.”
I take a step to the side, proving otherwise. My lips curl at the corners, but hers do as well, sending a spear of doubt through me. She’s far more confident than she should be. She’s almost giddy with it. A thought blares in the back of my mind, but it couldn’t be true.
Could it?
“Oh, did you not realize?” Her expression shifts into one of false sympathy. “You’re asleep.”
The blood leaves my face. Only now do I notice the eerie quiet, the lack of footsteps passing by the alley, the morning light that’s a touch too dark for how high the sun must be by now.
Truth dawns like a punch to the gut.
I’m in a fucking daydream.
19
BRIONY
Watching Thorne’s smug confidence melt away before my eyes is the most glorious sight. It’s enough to make this reckless plan worth it. Laughter bubbles in my chest, but I suppress it. I won’t be foolish like Thorne and let my arrogance get the better of me. There’s still much I must say and do. I can’t allow my plan to fail now.
With a steady breath, I will a window to appear in my dreamscape, just large enough to allow me a glimpse at the scene outside my daydream. The alley looks almost exactly as it does in my illusion, except Thorne is standing slightly off to the side, body immobile, eyes wide and sightless. Before him, a slender fae male with russet hair presses a dagger to his throat—the very same Mr. Blackwood forced me to wield three days prior. The fae holds the blade steady, lips peeled back from his teeth in a way that makes him look very much like the creature I first met him as—the deep-voiced fox servant. He’s now in his seelie form, which boasts a thin mustache, a black suit, and the same black bow tie he wore as a fox. I was surprised that he didn’t balk when I proposed this part of my plan, but seeing how confidently he holds the knife makes me wonder if he’s used to such violent requests from my parents.
I blink, and the window snaps shut.
“How are you doing this?” Thorne’s voice holds only bored curiosity, and the shock in his expression is gone. I’m disappointed with how quickly he’s recovered his composure.
I snort a dark laugh. Does he really think I’ll answer his question? Reveal just what a gamble this plan was?
