Page 14

He snapped his fingers, and the storm clouds dissipated.

Across the room, my father’s head lulled to one side, and his eyes were still closed. He appeared to be sleeping. My sister was desperately trying to remove the tree limbs encircling his chest.

"What have you done? Release him," I growled.

"He is unharmed, and I will release him as soon as we depart. You have my word," he said.

I nodded, tears stinging the corners of my eyes. For all of their faults, the fae could not lie. So, I knew he would be forced to honor his pledge. The sooner I left, the sooner my father would be freed.

Before I could take more than a step forward, Maggie ran and fell to the floor at my feet, wrapping her arms around my middle. Just as she had when we were little. Her hot tears soaked through the fabric of my bodice. "Don’t go," she wailed.

With a calm I didn’t feel, I stroked her hair. "It’s okay, Maggie. Everything is going to be okay," I lied. "We always knew I would marry for an alliance."

"Not like this," she whispered.

No, not like this, I thought.

I wanted to hold her and cry, too, but our father needed me. What if the sapling with its strong encircling limbs was cutting off his breath. I thought I could see his chest rising and falling, but I couldn’t be sure. Tentatively, I loosened her fingers from my waist. "I must go."

My fae captor turned on his heel and strode toward the door. He turned his head to glance in my direction. "Come, bride," he called as if I was a favored hunting hound.

I fought my pride which wished me to dig my heels into the ground and refuse him.

I imagined the words falling from my mouth. "I should rather die."

Then I pictured it—my father engulfed by the sapling and my younger sister swept through the doors in my place.

Cold, hard resolve filled me. I straightened my back. I would leave with my dignity. I would leave as a princess, not a blubbering mess. "Release my father, so I can safely go to my room and pack my dresses."

"You have no need for dresses," he said.

My eyes widened. What sort of insinuation was he making? Were the fae so wild that their brides ran about half naked?

As if reading my thoughts, a slight smile crept up his face. "You will have an all new wardrobe as any married woman should. The dresses will be made of the finest fabrics, and pearls will drip from your neck and ears."

I didn’t want his finery, but I was relieved to hear they were not as savage as I feared.

"The sooner we leave, the sooner your father is freed," he reminded me.

I glanced over at my father once more. His eyes were closed, and I knew he probably couldn’t hear me when I said softly, "Goodbye."

Blinking back tears, I turned to follow my bridegroom out of my childhood home and away to a land of monsters.

My sister launched herself at the fae, but thorny vines crept up her legs and held her unharmed but in place.

"Goodbye, Maggie," I said.

As the heavy doors closed behind us, I felt as if my heart would cleave in two.

We walked in silence for some time. I was worried about Maggie. Would she be okay without me? She had lost so much already–her mother, her eldest sister, and now me.

When I was four, I lost my mother to a terrible fever. When I was fifteen, I lost my elder sister to the fae. It had been hard, breathtakingly so.

But Maggie had it worse. She hadn’t even been two years old when mother died. She had still been sleeping in a crib in the nursery. Once, I heard the servants whisper that "it was best she wouldn’t remember." But Maggie knew what she had lost.

Every night of that awful first month, Maggie had snuck out of her crib and crawled into bed with me. I’m sure the nursemaid knew where Maggie went, but who would have the heart to separate two mourning children?

Years later, Maggie had lost Briar.