Page 22 of Courting the Fae Captain (Romancing the Realms #4)
My indifference to the dangers seemed to be the thing that tipped him over the edge.
“Because you deserve none!” The sound of his voice carried through the woods like thunder, causing a couple of birds to take flight.
I gaped as he ran a hand through his hair and took a visible deep breath.
Composing himself, he continued more softly, “The Pentad would have hunted you to the ends of the earth. They have their hounds. They have far more powerful magic. With the storm to slow you down, they would have found you within a day and made an example of you to all the other females. Your death would have been slow—drawn out for months, even. And after they were done torturing, assaulting, and mutilating you, they would have mounted your head on the castle walls. You’re just a female to them.
You’re so far beneath them that you’re lower than even their dogs.
You said you wished to find out what happened to the missing females, and yet you risk a fate worse than theirs for what?
Dignity? Pride? Dying doesn’t help anyone.
Running away doesn’t stop the cycle. You say you don’t understand me, but I cannot fathom how you could be so selfish. ”
My stomach churned, my clothes suddenly feeling too hot, too tight.
I hadn’t thought of escaping the castle as running away for good.
From his perspective, I could see how it was selfish.
How it looked like I was turning tail and leaving the females to fend for themselves.
And, sure, maybe I was primarily getting out of there to save my own hide, but was that so wrong?
I bit my lip, then felt shame wash over me.
He was right. Running away wouldn’t solve anything.
It certainly wouldn’t help us find the missing females.
I’d spent so long looking out for myself that it had become second nature, but what was going on in the Rite was so much bigger than me.
Bitterness soured my tongue as I sagged, but I didn’t convey all my thoughts.
Instead, I said quietly, “They are going to kill me anyway. Kill all of us. If not directly themselves, then by a female in their stead. But you’re right.
I was rash and I was wrong. If it makes any difference, I was going to write to you when I was free and recruit help where I could.
I found something in my mother’s journal. Here.”
He took the letter I handed him, read it carefully, then closed his eyes as he lowered the parchment. “So it’s true, then. What we’d only suspected is confirmed by your mother. The Pentad has been holding females hostage for years now, perhaps centuries. My mother is likely among them.”
Despite the anger still thrumming through me, my heart panged.
I took a step closer, despite myself. “I’m sorry Raithe.
I was hoping to investigate this somewhere far away from the Pentad’s eyes and grasp, but I can admit when I’m wrong.
It’s difficult to accept this fate when my freedom has been taken from me twice now in so many weeks.
It seems you’re no freer than I, though.
” I sighed. “I’m … sorry … for misjudging you.
I’m not used to someone being in my corner.
The only people who ever were … they were taken away from me, too. ”
Blonde waves fell into my face as I bowed my head.
For some reason, I didn’t want him to see the tears that sprang to the surface.
I purposefully kept my secrets under lock and key.
Pain. Sadness. They were useless emotions that muddied the brain and confused the heart.
They had never served me. Only anger did.
Raithe’s boot crunched on the fallen leaves, stepping into my view of the ground. “We won’t let them win, Aeris.” Raithe took my hand, and I inhaled sharply as he brushed a thumb over my knuckles. “I’m sorry. But you cannot let them win. You cannot run away.”
I turned my tear-filled eyes to his. When had he taken another step closer? His face was so close, his chest brushing against mine as he surveyed me. Those sapphire eyes softened ever so slightly as he tucked a strand of hair behind my pointed ear.
“Do you think I stand a chance?” I whispered against the wind.
“I know you do. Because I’m going to help you, Aeris, and because I get the feeling that you’re too stubborn to let them win. You take your fate into your own hands, which is admirable. Besides, I’ll be looking out for you the whole time.”
I snorted. “Even you can’t control all the shadows of the castle. Portia?—”
“Will get what’s coming to her,” he said. “But there is another way I can keep you from further harm.”
“Oh? And what’s that?”
“Yule is fast approaching, which means Castle Cliffscote will be hosting a feast. It marks the official occasion when the Bridegroom can single out a favourite in the Rite. By Yule, the females have usually made alliances and friends, and the competitiveness plateaus. Revealing a favourite amid everyone feeling more comfortable stirs up drama, jealousy, and spilled blood, you see. And I can’t very well be Captain of the Shadow Court navy without a date, can I? ”
My eyes widened. “So … what? You don’t want to pick a favourite, and your solution is you want me to be your arm candy for the night?”
“Not just the night. I want you to be my favourite,” he said with a grin.
“It’s normal for lords of these Rites to pick a favoured female, it's usually seen as a try before you buy, or a means to stir up a more heated competition. But sometimes it’s genuine and is used to better get to know each other.
A sort of wooing, if you will. Of course, it’s still all a part of the game, but this would afford you some protection from the Pentad and any other males visiting.
Unfortunately, I am strictly forbidden from interfering with any participant disputes, regardless. ”
I laughed in disbelief. “Raithe Windaire … Are you seriously asking to court me?”
His smile did something to my stomach as white teeth flashed and a dimple popped on one cheek. “Yes, Aeris Lockhart, I believe I am.”
I laughed again, and this time it felt truly freeing. Genuine. Even if his so-called ‘claim’ on me was a sham, it was certainly an entertaining one. What an unexpected ride this morning proved to be. “Then I guess I’m courting the Fae Captain. My answer is yes.”
“You have no idea how sweet that music sounds to my ears, little lark.”