“My name?” I suggested. “It’s Alessia, but people call me Allie.”
Millie’s brow furrowed. “Why would they call you Allie when you’ve got such a beautiful name for starters?”
I hesitated, wondering why I’d even introduced myself as Alessia. I hadn’t introduced myself as such since before kindergarten, when my mother told me it was unbecoming to have such a strange name.
I’d asked my mother why she’d named me Alessia if she didn’t like it. To which she had never really given me an answer.
“D’ya mind if I call you Alessia, then?” Millie asked. “I just love it. It’s beautiful, rolls off the tongue.”
As soon as she said it, I was thrown back in time to the memory of me standing at the altar, hearing my name on Silas’s lips.
“Silas,” I whispered.
“What about him?” she asked.
“Where is he?” I demanded. “He brought me here. Whereishere? What about Simon?”
Finally, finally, my fear and emotions were kicking up to an appropriate gear. It was almost a relief to feel disoriented and alarmed because so far, I’d felt as if I’d been easing into this new life seamlessly. Too easy. Nothing was ever this easy; if it was, there was always a catch.
“Silas kidnapped me,” I said, like the words themselves were shocking. “From my own wedding.”
“Oh, did he, now?” Millie muttered, suddenly seeming restless. “Eat some toast, Ms. Alessia. I reckon you’re a bit starved after all that travel.”
I glanced down. “Millie! Where is my wedding dress?”
“Out there,” she said. “I helped you get changed when you arrived. Don’t worry, Mr. Silas didn’t see a thing. I’m a Commoner Fairy, polite service is what we do. It’s my job to take care of Mr. Silas and all his guests.”
“But—”
“I do like to garden and bake, a bit more than the average Commoner, but alas, we all have our downfalls, yeah? In this industry we’re not supposed to have passions, but sometimes it just bubbles right out of me. Oh, Ms. Alessia, what’s wrong?”
I hadn’t realized that I’d been so swept up in the moment, and I could only imagine that my face looked mortified. Windswept, maybe, or whiplashed.
Millie scurried to me, raised a hand and took mine in hers. “You’re from the mainland?”
“New York,” I said.
“Okay then,” she said, like that didn’t mean anything to her. “You do believe in magic, though?”
“No,” I said. “No, I don’t.”
“How do you figure you got here?”
I opened and closed my mouth a few times, as if hoping the right words would walk themselves right out. No luck there.
“I don’t know,” I finally said. “I’m in shock.”
“Have a bite of toast,” she encouraged again. “Maybe you just need energy.”
As if toast could fix the fact that—oh, I don’t know—I’d been whisked away from myI Do’sto an enchanted land?
Still, I did as Millie told me, feeling grateful that someone was making decisions for me. I sank my teeth into a bite of sourdough, fresh and soft and warm on the inside. The strawberry jam tasted so fresh I got notes of ocean air alongside the melted pat of butter.
“This does help,” I admitted to Millie. “Thank you.”
She bowed to me, the second person to have done so today. Or, at least I thought it had been one day?
“When did I get here?” I asked.
