“What choices do I have?”
“Plenty! Make him your slave.”
What amount of belief does my tiny pixie friend have in me? She expects me toenslavea powerful faerie who doesn’t even need his eyes to be the epitome of grace? He is in multi-layer robes, can’t see, and hasn’t so much as stumbled, for frick’s sake. Let’s attempt a scrap of realism.
One wrong move, and I’m dead. Orworsethan dead, depending on my warden’s whim.
The only thing Frelsi’s been right about is this: I’m his pet, little more than a dog he has to take outside to go potty when it whines. I worry about encouraging anything else, because if I must choose betweenpetandplaything, the answer is obvious, if demeaning.
Good thing pride has never once served me before.
I’ve grown up entirely unused to it.
So it’s almost…easy…to cast aside.
When the bedroom door swings open, my heart jumps even as I remain precisely doll-like.
The number of books the faerie man is carrying in suggests that he doesn’t turneverythinghe looks at to stone in an unfortunate King Midas fashion. He must take his blindfold off sometimes to read, which means having it on is not a permanent fixture and being turned to stone accidentally must join my growing list of concerns.
Fantastic.
Love that for me.
“This one was excellent,” he says as he places an Eros and Psyche retelling coauthored by Blaire Featherstone and Gale Greenway before me. I’ve seen this book at large in the human world recently. It’s known for being unbelievably dark. Proving my thoughts correct, the faerie man provides, “He keeps her in a cage. It’s very romantic.”
I blink and glance toward this guy’s face.
He presents another book with an elegant cover of snakes and skulls. “I learned a lot from this one. Perhaps…too much.”
His face.
It flushes.
Is he…
No. Surely he isn’t giving me theresearchhe mentioned before.
Is this astackof books on How to Kidnap Someone? The covers certainly seem to be relaying darkromance. Which would imply that hedoeshave a “romantic” intention with me.
My stomach knots.
Setting the next book down, he taps the hardback twice. “Lotsof choking.” Confident as ever, he murmurs a self-assuring, “Women love choking.”
Frelsi’s told me that the fae can’t outright lie. But theycanshare something that isn’t true so long as they believe what they’re saying.
Given that information and my current physical position, I am unnerved to the nth degree.
“There’s a lot of strange balances…” he offers. “Don’t worry. I have no intention of taking things too swiftly with you. I’d like to savor my every taste, commit your everything to my senses.”
Ignoring the entirety of this tapestry of red flags, Frelsi whispers, “Sweets.”
“Sweets?” the man asks. No clarification necessary, he places the rest of the books within my reach beyond the cage bars and rises. “Sweets. You want sweets, my feather? I understand. This food is insufficient to please you. I shall fetch a deeper variety.”
When the bedroom door swings closed behind him again, Frelsi collapses with delight. “Fetch!” she cheers. “Even thoughyou’rethe pet,he’sdoing all the fetching!”
Hesitant, I reach for the book with the darkest cover, slip it through the bars, and open it somewhere in the middle.
Three lines is all I skim before I snap the thing closed again.
