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He continued. “The fae of Albyria accept this gift from the mortals of Teine. And so our bargain remains. Enjoy your Festival of Light.”

A small clap went through the crowd, timid and uncertain. As if oblivious to the halfhearted reaction to his speech, King Oberon turned to me and gripped my arms once more. My entire body seemed to hiss in answer.

“Time for you to return home, my bride,” the king murmured to me as he steered me toward the waiting horses. Our transportation. I’d ride beside him, a prize on display.

“Albyria is not my home,” I couldn’t help but whisper with tears in my eyes. “This is.”

“It isnot. Say goodbye to Teine and everyone within it. You’ll never see it or them again.”

Seven

Tessa

The king ushered me through the crowd to where a horse sat waiting for me, a smaller version of his own. The ivory beast neighed, throwing his mane as if to communicate his displeasure. Wonderful. Even the horse realized I didn’t belong with the fae.

“Climb on,” the king commanded.

For a moment, I fought the urge to whip my hidden dagger out of its sheath and press the wooden tip against his neck. But it would do little good. The soldiers would stop me before I could kill King Oberon. And it might get my family killed.

My family.

Heart pulsing, I finally lifted my eyes to where my mother stood. Sandwiched between two other mothers, her hand pressed against her heart. The smile on her face was one I’d seen a thousand times, but I finally recognized it for what it was.

Fake.

The widening of her eyes. The paling of her cheeks. Those things told the truth. She was terrified for me.

As I gazed around at the gathered crowd, I spotted that same fear in every face I met, including several of the girls who had come to present themselves to the king. My stomach tumbled.

Did they all distrust the fae like me? Had it always been this way, and I’d just never seen it until now?

How could I have missed it?

Nellie caught my gaze. She raised her hands over her head and flared her fingers in the shape of wings.Fly away from here, like the ravens.

I wished I could.

“You know the rules,” King Oberon said, roughly grabbing my arm and forcing me to turn back toward the horse. “No goodbyes. Get on.”

My heart banged against my ribs, and I bit back every vicious word I wished to say. He’d soon realize he’d made a very terrible mistake. This was my punishment, but it would be his, too. As his bride, I’d make the next seventy-five years a living hell for him.

And maybe, just maybe, I could find a way to destroy the fae from within. It could be the answer to freeing my people.

So, I smiled sweetly and hoisted myself up onto the horse, keeping both legs on one side to demonstrate that I could play by the rules. Prim and proper and silent. Though it was more to keep my dagger hidden than anything else.

“Good.” He flashed his sharp teeth at me. “Now, you’re to remain silent until you reach your room inside the castle, which is the only place where you may talk freely. If someone says something to you when you’re outside of that room, you’re to nod and smile unless you’re explicitly given permission to speak. Do you understand?”

I wrinkled my nose. “Why?”

“Because I said so,” he sneered.

The rest of the mortals gathered around while the king left me behind to enjoy the slicing of the cake. I tried to meet the eyes of my mother, of Val, but they hung in the back of the crowd with my sister, all whispering fiercely amongst themselves.

Thankfully, their words did not drift on the wind. I couldn’t bear the thought of the king hearing whatever they were saying about this.

My heart squeezed as I tried to commit every detail of them to memory. Val’s gorgeous flaming hair, the wildness of her spirit and her eyes. My sister, the kindness of her smile, the dimple of her right cheek, the dancer-like gracefulness in the way she moved.

And my mother, the woman who was more like me than I’d ever dreamed. All this time she’d been pretending, just to keep us safe, but she held rebellion in her heart, too. I wished I’d known it sooner. I’d spent too many years angry at her for what had happened to Father, when none of it had been her fault.