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To my surprise, his cloak was lightweight and long. It should well conceal my figure.

He brought my hand to his parted lips but rather than kiss the top, he turned it over and kissed the inside of my wrist gently. "I’m glad we met, princess," he said.

Then, he was gone. I followed the forest path, stuck to the trees, and climbed the trellis to my own window. There was a note from my sister and a lit candle waiting.

Father knows nothing. Sorry to leave you.

I breathed a sigh of relief that she was safe. I blew out all of the candles. In the last flicker of the flame, I thought of those piercing green eyes.

CHAPTER 5

The Stolen Bride

The memory found me, even in my dreams.

It was a cold, winter morning. The sun hadn’t risen yet, and I lay nestled under a thick goose down comforter.

I woke to a piercing scream in the hallway. I scrambled out of bed to see what was the matter. From the hallway, I heard sounds in my older sister’s bedroom.

"Briar," I called at her door.

There was no reply, so I pushed my way in.

I knew at once that something was wrong. Terribly wrong. Every window in her room was open. The cold, salty air wrapped around me like a chilly embrace, tickling my neck and tugging on the small strands of hair at the nape of my neck.

I shivered.

Though day was only just beginning to break, every candle in the room had been blown out. Through the shadow, my sister was nowhere to be seen. The comforter on her bed was thrown back, and her bed was empty.

Well, almost empty.

On the tousled sheets lay a golden shell.

Soon, more servants entered the room, then Maggie, and finally my father. He took one look at the awful scene and let out a gut-wrenching moan. Only one type of intruder would leave a shell— the fae.

Moments later, we were entrusted into our childhood nursemaid’s care and locked in the root cellar. It was dark and smelled of earth. Our only light source, a lantern, flickered, revealing fear in our nursemaid’s eyes.

We huddled together under a heap of blankets and listened to the barreling footsteps overhead. Men were searching our home and grounds. Even as I hoped, as I prayed, father would return with Briar, I knew all was lost.

Our men would never find her. She had been taken to the fae’s island, and she would never return. They said every generation a bride was stolen. They said it calmed the storms.

But I didn’t care. I just wanted my sister back. My fearless, clever Briar.

I held the golden shell to my ear, the one I had found on her bed. I only heard a faint echo of my sister’s voice. "I love you," she said.

I woke and ran a hand across my collarbone, seeking the golden shell which I had turned into a necklace. I wanted to listen to that distant echo of my sister’s voice, but it wasn’t there. My heart quickened. I sat up and searched under my pillow and among the linens. It was missing, and I knew at once where I had lost it—the pond.

I wouldn’t be allowed to simply leave through the front doors, and I couldn’t tell my father what had transpired last night. The sun had just risen, and there was enough light to see outdoors. So, I gathered my skirts and crawled out the window.

Carefully, I stuck one slippered foot into the trellis and then the next. Then, with the precision of a skilled escape artist—which I supposed I was—I climbed alongside the jasmine until I reached the ground.

I hurried down the dusty drive, through the oak grove and underbrush, and out to the hidden pond.

I hated myself every step of the way. Foolish. Careless.

When I looked out at the murky pond water, I almost broke down and cried. How would I ever find it?

Determined not to quit, I shimmied off my dress and dove in, running my hands along the bottom of the pond. I sifted through silt and shell fragments, hoping to feel the cool metal of the golden chain.