Be careful out there, Helena. So many young women keep disappearing. Every day, more and more just go missing. Some young men, too, but mostly women.
Well, I tried to be careful. That’s why I’m here on Smithson Lane. I hoped to take a shortcut and thus limit my time on the streets today. If only I’d kept walking. If only I hadn’t slowed down and approached my old cottage.
The tall fae male comes to a stop before me, bringing a gust of frigid wind with him. I clutch my postbag as I hold his gaze. Perhaps if I tell him I’m a mail carrier, he’ll let me be on my way. I open my mouth to speak, but no sound comes out. Fear has stolen my voice.
“Thank you for coming so quickly,” Peter suddenly says. “This woman was trying to rob me. When I tried to take back what she stole, she started screaming like a lunatic. Thank the gods for fae patrols.”
The fae male’s mouth quirks, and his gaze finally cuts to Peter. “Well, was shetryingto rob you, or did she actually rob you? Which is it? And what, pray tell, did she want to steal from you?”
“I… I….” Peter’s eyes flare, then he spins on his heel and tries to flee.
He doesn’t make it far. Before I can take my next breath, the fae male has already summoned black, batlike wings and used the sharp tip of one wing to slice Peter’s throat.
Oh, my gods.
I cry out and watch as my brother-in-law falls to the ground. He quickly bleeds out on the street, his eyes wide, his face suddenly slack. Dead. He’s gone. Just like that. It was so easy for the fae male to kill him.
There’s another flash of white light, and the fae male’s wings just… disappear. Highborn. From what I know about the fae, only highborn fae can summon wings. But it’s the sort of magic I’ve only heard about. I’ve never seen it in action. Not even during the battle. I’d remained hidden beneath the floorboards of the bakery with Isabel and her father during the attack.
“I hope that wasn’t your husband,” the fae male says with a gleeful chuckle. Behind him, his five companions laugh along.
“No, that wasn’t my husband,” I somehow manage to reply. Shaking. I can’t seem to stop shaking. I don’t think I’ve ever been so afraid.
“Then who was he to you? I don’t believe you were trying to rob him, nor do I think you were strangers.”
“He was my late husband’s brother. You are correct. I wasn’t trying to rob him. I-I am a mail carrier, and he came outside and accosted me during my route,” I say in a trembling voice. “I smelled whiskey on his breath.”
“Ah, so your drunk former brother-in-law was trying to hurt you.” He displays a wide grin. “How interesting. I wonder what he might have done to you had I not so gallantly intervened.”
I swallow past the dryness in my throat. “Th-thank you for helping me, sir.”
To my utter horror, the tall fae male steps closer and reaches for my hair. My knees threaten to buckle, and I’m not sure how I remain standing. A continuous shiver moves through me while he slowly caresses my hair.
“Your hair is so smooth and black, and your eyes so very blue,” he says, almost to himself. “And your facial features… gods, the similarity isuncanny. The king will be so pleased.” Then he laughs.
I want to ask who he thinks I resemble, but once again, fear has stolen my voice. So, I stare up at him as he keeps stroking my hair. Will he kill me soon? Or will I be one of the young women who just disappears? Tears blur my vision.
“Oh, don’t cry, sweetling,” he says in a fake soothing tone. He drags his knuckles over my cheek, his touch mockingly gentle. “Shh. It’ll be okay. The king will like you very, very much. I daresay you will be his new favorite possession… for however long he allows you to live.”
“Please let me go,” I whisper, and a tear cascades down my cheek. Or at least it starts to. It quickly freezes alongside my tears from earlier.
The tall fae male chuckles. “Oh, you beg so prettily, and the tears really are a nice touch. My brother will like it when you cry and plead for mercy.”
His brother… isthe king?
I suddenly feel like I’m falling, plunging into an icy abyss.
King Theron of the Winter Court.
Is that who he’s talking about? I pray I have it wrong. I pray I’m just confused. Surely the male petting me isn’t a fae prince, and surely his brother isn’t actually the king of the Winter Court.
He smiles again, this time broadly enough to reveal his white, pointed teeth. He rips my postbag away and tosses it aside. I watch helplessly as undelivered letters go flying. Then he sweeps me into his arms and summons his wings again. My stomach drops to the ground, and I stare at him in shock.
It’s happening.
I’m about to disappear. I’m about to betaken.
His next words confirm my deepest fears.
