I creep down the hallway, past my father’s bedroom, and into the large front room that serves as Sinclair’s Bakery, the cozy establishment I’ve helped Papa run since his retirement as a soldier. I grab several small loaves of bread, wrapping them carefully before placing them in my rucksack. I also find some cheese and dried berries.
Pausing, I cast a longing glance around the darkened bakery.
Even though I know I must leave, my heart breaks at the thought. I always expected I would spend my entire life in Braemar, and I thought I would always help Papa run the bakery. And after he departed this realm, I would run it by myself, a profession that would allow me to make a decent living without having to depend on a husband for survival.
The bakery has been my home, my sanctuary, for so long that sorrow nearly drowns me at the prospect of abandoning the one place that’s always felt safest. This place was supposed to be my future, yet now I must flee because it’s no longer the refuge it once was… all because of the Winter Court fae and the certainty that Gideon is currently within the walls of the city.
But maybe… maybe one day I will be able to return. After the bulk of the Winter Court army has moved on, with Gideon hopefully among them, I could possibly come back to my old life and try to pick up the pieces. This thought provides a tentative balm to my sorrows.
After securing my bag, I turn to the door, only for an abrupt strike of a match followed by a flicker of light to catch my attention.
I gasp when I spot my father seated at a table in the area that’s reserved for customers. He lights his pipe and puffs itseveral times. As my eyes adjust to the darkness, I realize he’s likely been sitting there watching me this entire time. Yet he hasn’t spoken.
My stomach plunges to the floor.
Does he realize what I’m doing? Does he know I was about to run away without leaving so much as a note? My guilt from earlier deepens. He’s always been a good father to me. Kind and patient. Judging by his gentle demeanor, one would never guess he was once a decorated soldier who protected the walls of Braemar. After my mother died when I was only ten years old, he retired from soldiering and opened this bakery, providing a new way of earning a living that allowed him to keep a close eye on me.
“Papa,” I whisper. “What are you doing awake at this hour?”
“I couldn’t sleep,” he replies calmly, no hint of anger in his voice. “Come sit with me, Isabel. I want to know what you’re doing.”
I approach him with slow steps, then set my rucksack on the floor and take a seat across from him. He strikes another match and lights a lantern that’s on the table. Warm, dancing light soon fills the seating area. I take in Papa’s appearance and frown at the deep wrinkles that mar his face. I could’ve sworn he didn’t look quite so old a week ago, but I suppose the added stress of living in a fae-occupied city is taking a toll on him.
He stares at me quietly, but there’s an expectant gleam in his eyes. Ever patient, he’s waiting for me to start talking, but only when I’m ready.
I draw in a deep, stabilizing breath.
“I need to leave Braemar. Tonight. I-I can’t go to the castle tomorrow. I’m sorry, Papa, but I…” My voice trails off. Should I tell him the real reason I want to flee? Would he even believe me?
He leans back in his seat and takes another puff of his pipe, and the sweet, spiced aroma of the smoke reaches me, filling me with a sense of comfort. A sense of home. For as long as I can remember, Papa has always smoked his pipe in the evenings, using the same tobacco blend he buys from Mr. Geltrinn on market day, one that gives off hints of cloves and nutmeg. I breathe deep of the comforting scent as my heart aches with preemptive grief.
I feel awful that I must leave Braemar, possibly to never see Papa again, but I can’t imagine staying. I also can’t fathom asking him to come with me. I don’t want to put him at risk. It’s better if I go alone. This is my fate, my curse, and I don’t want to cause harm to anyone else as I try to outrun it.
“I know the fae’s attack on Braemar was frightening for you, Isabel, and, given what happened to you years ago,” he says, “I can understand that you’re still feeling shaken. I can understand your desire to flee the city. But we just have to get through tomorrow… we just have to make it through Tribute Day… and then everything will be fine. As long as you’re careful and stay off the streets and away from the fae patrols, everything will be fine.”
Given what happened to you years ago.He’s referring to the time, three years ago, when I was briefly taken captive by orcs. A renewed shiver rushes through me at the memory.
“Papa, there’s something I need to tell you. Something you don’t know. It’s about what happened when… when the orcs were holding me prisoner.”
As the lantern light flickers across his face, he suddenly goes pale, and his eyes soften with regret. He swallows hard. “Sweetheart, you don’t have to tell me what happened. I think I know, and I’m so sorry I couldn’t protect you. It’s my fault. I should’ve never allowed you to venture outside the walls ofBraemar to pick berries that day. Whatever happened to you, the blame is on me.”
“I know you think the orcs violated me. I know everyone thinks that,” I say carefully, blinking back tears, “but the orcs didn’t violate me. They were planning on it, and they scared me half to death as they described what they wanted to do, but there was a seer traveling with them and she…” Again, my voice trails off as my throat closes up tightly. Dark memories wash over me.
Papa leans forward. “A seer?”
“Yes, an elderly orc female who was a seer. Within earshot of the orc soldiers, she announced something about my future that caused them to… avoid touching me. It was rather startling. She grabbed my hand, then her eyes suddenly went white, and when her visage returned to normal, she told me something shocking. Something I didn’t want to believe. Something I’ve spent years trying to forget, something I tried to pretend couldn’t be true. But now that the Winter Court army has arrived, I fear the seer was right.” I’m talking around the truth, and Papa knows it. I haven’t quite revealed my reason for wanting to flee Braemar. Not yet.
“Tell me, daughter. Tell me what the seer said.”
I blink against a fresh sheen of tears. “She said I was fated to a highborn fae male named Gideon. And so, the orcs didn’t want to touch me after learning that. I heard them whispering among themselves that if they violated me, Gideon might one day hunt them down and punish them for their sins against me. Before they could decide whether to free me or simply hold me for ransom, the soldiers from Braemar found their camp in the forest, and you know the rest.” A tear rolls down my cheek, and I quickly wipe it away.
Papa’s visage softens further. “Oh, Isabel. I wish you’d told me. But I can’t help but wonder if the seer was lying. Perhaps she had a kind heart and simply wanted to protect you from thecruelty of her brethren. Perhaps she made up the story about the highborn fae male being your mate. After all, mating unions between humans and fae are quite rare.”
“She wasn’t lying, Papa.” I take another deep, steadying breath, but it does little to calm my rattled senses. “Ever since the Winter Court army came to Braemar, I’ve beenhearinga fae male’s voice in my head. And sometimes, I feel his presence, as though he’s in the room with me. I can smell him too, and I feel the waves of winter coldness radiating off him. Oh, Papa. I fear this means the seer was right. And it means I must leave Braemar before Gideon finds me. He’s here. I’m certain of it, and I must run away.”
Papa’s eyes flare with alarm, and he straightens in his chair. He snuffs out the pipe and sets it aside with a trembling hand. “Dear gods. Are you certain? You truly hear the fae male’s voice in your head?”
“Yes, Papa. I first heard his voice during the attack. When we were hiding under the floorboards,” I say with a gesture at the braided rug that conceals the secret hiding place. After learning of the impending attack, Papa ushered Helena and me into the compartment beneath the floorboards. It was then that I first heard Gideon’s voice and felt his presence, a storm of winter magic and brutal fae strength.
