He laughs again, the sound wry this time. “Don’t assume I’m so foolish. You have allies who would save you from me at a moment’s notice.” He waves a hand toward the bench, and my phone. “I have given you private, easy access to them, and I would not succeed against them all at once. I would not even succeed against a select two of them together.”
“You would succeed against me, though, so you could easily take them away before I could hope to contact them, if that’s who you are.”
“Why are you pressing this?” he hisses. “Have you grown anxious apart from the abuse you’re used to? Are you frantic to regain a master who tells you what to do and who to be?”
My heart pinches, and I whisper, “I’m sorry. I’m not trying to press. I’m just tired of living on a roller coaster without a seat belt. My mother would pretend to be good. She believed herself to be good. She’d have moments where she’d do something kind or seemingly special for me, but that just makes it harder. If it’s all downhill, I can learn to hold on, learn to appreciate the rush. Snatches of peace unnerve me because I never know when the next drop is coming. Please tell me you understand what I’m trying to say.”
Sighing, Castor angles his head toward Frelsi, where she’s still splashing around in the pool. “I…understand well enough.As you wish, my angel and heart. Such shall be the terms: when you allow me a full glimpse of your true self, I will allow you a taste of who I am at my core, too. Then, you may decide whether you like me that way…or not.” He offers me a dirt-stained hand. “Do we have a deal?”
I don’t love this. “Isn’t it dangerous to make a deal with a faerie?”
He chuckles, displaying short fangs when he smiles. “No less dangerous than asking me tobe myself, love.”
Fair enough…
I take his hand, and we shake.
Chapter 17
~~~~~~~~~~~~
From one plush cage to another.
“Smile,” Willow says, and I force my face to work in the way it’s been trained as she lifts her phone and snaps a picture of me. Cackling quietly, she looks down at the screen. “Perfect. I justloveblackmail.”
Frelsi gasps, zipping away from me and anchoring herself on Willow’s sleeve. “We look so cute! Can we get another one over there?”
I follow Frelsi’s tiny pointing arm toward a massive wooden throne upon a dais on the other side of this vast crystalline and marble ballroom. We got here after walking through a crack in a sheer stone wall. I’d be surprised, if Castor hadn’t taken me through a million different worlds in the span of a few minutes to get to Russia last week.
Palaces reside beyond mountain stones, and traffic can appear suddenly in the middle of a forest.
Such is the way of Faerie.
“I don’t see why not.” Willow turns on her platform shoes and heads toward the throne while Frelsi grabs my flowing blue skirt and tugs me forward with all her might.
“Come on, come on, come on!”
Clearing my throat, I inch across the pearl floors. “Whose castle is this?”
“Cael’s.” Willow plops into the extravagant seat, sprawls, and starts taking selfies.
Dread floods into my limbs, halting my advance. “Cael’s?” I whisper.
Willow’s white-lined eyes hit me, hard. “That’s a reaction. What fun stories has Castor told you about Prince Cael? Themoth man keeps his history tucked away, and his wife, Alana, maintains confidentiality if he’s told her anything.” She scoots to the edge of the throne. “Spill.”
“Sorry. I don’t have any stories… It’s just clear that there’s friction between the two of them.”
Willow pouts. “Ask for stories as soon as you can. I want blackmail on all sides.”
Before I can think of a response, the door to the throne room flies open, hitting the wall. With his black-and-yellow wings spread, Cael freezes in the archway, staring at me. Shock holds his eyes wide before his nose wrinkles.
“Revolting,” he seethes, and I tense.
I should have known better than to agree when Willow said we were going ona walk in the woods. I should know better than to follow practical strangers into the woods.The woodsis where people go to get murdered.
Freeing what seems to be a calming breath, Cael threads his fingers into his mid-length black hair streaked with the occasional strand of gold and combs back two antennae while he collects himself. The glistening gold shimmers in the light as he adopts an entreating smile. “Danielle, I presume.” He takes a silent step toward me. “Charming to more formally make your acquaintance.”
My stomach sinks, and I take a fumbling step back.
