“Yes!” Helena wailed, her weight sagging against Beatrice’s grip.
“What did he say? What is his plan?” This time Beatrice did give the fae woman a shake.
“He said he has a plan to lure the Wild Fae Primrose to the Woodland reading nook at midnight.” Tears rolled down Helena’s face. “I’m not a part of the League, but I support the Primrose’s work. I don’t know who is in the League to tell. But I knew Meg and Basil would be safe. And you, of course. You must support the Primrose or know someone to tell to warn him. Should King Theseus be told? I don’t know what else to do!”
Beatrice’s mind whirled, her stomach churning and heaving even as Helena’s words sliced through any respect she’d formed for Benedict.
Howdarehe. How dare he apologize and act protective of her, a human, then turn around and plot to capture her sister, the Wild Fae Primrose who defended humans.
He was despicable. Despite his apology, he hadn’t actually changed a whit. He was still the awful, completely terrible boy he’d been years ago.
“Yes. Yes, we need to warn King Theseus.” Beatrice released Helena and spun away from her.
She needed to warn King Theseus. Warn Brigid. Warn her heart that feeling anything but hatred for Benedict had been a horrible idea.
What if Brigid was already on her way here? What had Benedict said and done to lure her into a trap?
Beatrice had stayed late shelving books. There were only a few hours until midnight. No time to go back to the House and risk missing Brigid.
Beatrice whirled back to Helena and grabbed her arms again. “You’re going to warn King Theseus. Warn the king, then warn Basil and Meg. They will know who else to tell. Understand?”
Helena sniffled and nodded. “What are you going to do?”
Beatrice let go of Helena, something both hot and steely filling her. “I’m going to stop him.”
Benedict crouchedin the shadows behind one of the stands of birch saplings in this particular reading nook. He’d picked the Woodland nook specifically because it was a warren of underbrush and tiny clearings, which each held plush chairs and couches so that one could curl up with a good book in the warmth of a summer wood without ever leaving the Great Library. Besides being a homey place to read, it also provided ample cover for someone setting a trap.
He adjusted his feet as carefully as he could to avoid making noise. How long would he have to wait? Would his quarry step into his trap at all?
A rustling came from the thick saplings that all but blocked the entrance. Another reason he’d chosen this reading nook. It was impossible to enter without creating a great deal of noise.
Benedict tensed, his hands fisted, his muscles ready to spring, even if capture wasn’t his goal. All he planned to do was observe. After all, it wouldn’t do him any good to capture the traitor if he couldn’t actually explain to anyone that the personwasa traitor.
This was merely a fact-finding trap. Once he knew who he was dealing with, he could contact the Wild Fae Primrose and tell all he knew without giving away the Primrose’s identity to said traitor.
The rustling and tromping grew closer. For someone hoping to catch the Wild Fae Primrose, the traitor wasn’t trying to be quiet whatsoever.
A glimpse of blonde curls and a light green dress shoved through the undergrowth a moment before Beatrice stomped into the tiny clearing in front of him.
Bumbling bookwyrms. What wasshedoing here? How had she even known to come here? No one he’d spoken with about this plan would have told her.
It didn’t matter how she’d gotten there. She would ruin everything if he didn’t get her out of sight.
As soon as she turned to peer into the saplings across from him, Benedict sprang to his feet, clapped a hand over her mouth, and wrapped an arm around her waist.
She screamed into his hand, twisting, writhing, and clawing.
“Shh. Keep it down,” Benedict hissed into her ear as he hauled her toward his hiding spot. “You’ll scare him away.”
Beatrice bit his hand. He yelped, yanking his hand away. She squirmed in his grip and kicked his shin so hard he stumbled, letting go of her entirely.
She whirled, facing him just out of his reach. With her fists clenched at her sides and her blue eyes flashing with fire, she glared with the fierceness of a swordmaiden. “That’s the point! I won’t let you capture the Primrose!”
“I’m not—” he started to try to say, but she cut him off before he could find out how much his vow would allow him to say.
“You are despicable! How dare you pretend to be all nice and kind and changed when you aren’t!” Beatrice swiped a stick from the ground and chucked it at him.
He ducked, though the stick had gone wide. What had gotten into her? Yes, he understood her being on the side of the Primrose, but this was beyond what he would have expected. Even her reaction to his book swap prank hadn’t been this heated. “Beatrice, I?—”
