Page 7

7

“When you find your heart’s true mate, you will never desire another.”

-A Seelie Guide to Matrimony

W hen we arrived home last night, Madame Ella had a white box bound in black ribbon waiting for me on the stoop. Inside, I found the most stunning gown—which was fortuitous considering the one I wore out already had a hole in the knee.

The buttery yellow skirts of the new gown slip like liquid over my stiff legs as I pace my uncle’s living room. Nia sits curled up on the sofa, her feet draped over the rolled pillow, tapping along to music only she can hear. Quiet conversation drifts from the kitchen where my aunt and uncle enjoy cups of peppermint tea. By the sounds of it, they’re discussing what to plant in the raised beds by the back fence.

With our bellies full of poached eggs and toast, Nia suggested we retire to the living room to relax. I’ve searched for a book that I haven’t already read, but it would seem my uncle’s small collection is the very same as my father’s.

After being cooped up in a carriage for so long yesterday, my poor legs tingle and ache from disuse. All I want is to go for a walk. Back home, I’d have at least two miles done by now. Unfortunately, today is Wednesday, and apparently Wednesdays are for hiding.

How is no one else going mad? Look at the golden light streaming through the break in the closed shutters. It’s ridiculous for everyone to remain inside simply because of a few fae using the well. We aren’t anywhere near the damn thing, yet the doors are locked, and the downstairs shutters have been pulled tight.

“You’re wearing a hole in the rug,” Nia drawls from behind her book, flipping to the next page.

That’s because I’m this close to losing my mind. “How can you stand being locked in here when the day is so fine?”

“Every day in Rosehill is fine.”

That may be so, but it doesn’t change the fact that no day should be wasted. Sitting in the dark with books we’ve both already read feels like a terrible waste. “I need to move.”

“Isn’t that what you’re doing?”

“ Outside .”

She finally lifts her head, her eyes as wide as they were last night when we heard that haunting howl.

“We can bring Madame Ella my other dresses.” I’ll only get away with wearing this gown so many times before Ivee comments on the lack of variety in my wardrobe.

Not that I care what she thinks. If I had my way, she wouldn’t notice me at all. Since she has noticed me, I’d prefer not to give her more fodder for her viciousness.

“Madame Ella’s and every other business is closed today.”

I give Nia’s bouncing feet a nudge, waiting until she moves them to fall beside her with a groan. “It’s nonsense.”

“It’s safe.”

Safe from what ? If the Unseelie were truly monsters, they wouldn’t have let a dilapidated bridge keep them from punishing the prince for trespassing on their territory.

Unless that isn’t illegal. Are we allowed to enter the Unseelie city on Wednesdays as well? It seems only fair if they can venture into ours that we should be allowed to do the same.

I smooth my fingers down my overskirt, straightening the wrinkles as best I can. “How do you know they’re dangerous?”

Nia closes the book with a snap. “Did you not hear Ronan? There are bones scattered across their side of The Divide.”

When I was little and my mother would blow out the candle by my bed, I thought I saw monsters in the dark too. Turns out, they were only the piles of laundry I hadn’t put away. “They eat meat, correct?” Unlike Seelie fae, the Unseelie diet consists mostly of animals. “Perhaps that is just where they discarded them.”

If I wanted to keep people away, that would certainly do the trick.

Rolling her eyes, she shoves her chaotic hair back from her face. “I suppose the horns and fangs aren’t anything to fret over either.”

“It was dark out, Nia. Everyone knows shadows play tricks with your mind—especially when you’re already afraid. Haven’t you ever wondered if the legends are true? We could go and find out.”

She tosses the book onto the coffee table, rattling our forgotten teacups. “Don’t you understand? If my father discovers that I went to see the Unseelie, he’ll have my head—and yours.”

“We are almost twenty-five-years old. We do not need his permission.”

“What do you propose we do?” She waves a hand toward the door. “Stroll into the square and throw a welcome party? Bring one of the neighbor’s new calves as a sacrifice?”

“Now who’s being ridiculous?” Although a welcome gift never hurt anyone. Perhaps that is something to consider. “Is it illegal to go to town on Wednesdays?”

Her hand falls to her lap with a quiet slap. “Well, no, but?—”

“If the king was truly concerned for his citizens’ safety, there would be laws in place keeping us from leaving our homes. Since there aren’t, I can only assume that it isn’t as dangerous as everyone believes.”

It takes ten more minutes to convince her and another five for her to pick a pair of shoes to wear. Don’t ask me why her choice of footwear matters when she’s made me promise that we will stay hidden.

While I’m waiting, I straighten my wrinkled skirts and tighten the strings on my dress’s corset top. I’m in love with the pale-yellow daisies printed on the silk, and the way the lacy sleeves of my shift puff over my shoulders like mushroom caps. It really is far too lovely a dress to waste on a day inside.

With her parents still in the kitchen arguing over what to bake with their cooking apples, Nia and I slip out the front door. Instead of leaving through the front gate where the neighbors might see, we creep around to the back gate and cross a field dotted with black and tan calves. Avoiding splatters of cow dung makes the crossing take far longer than it should, but eventually we reach the heart of the city.

Turning left at the library, we hurry down a skinny alley between the physician’s office and an apothecary that spits us out into the square. The businesses are all shuttered, and the homes all have their blinds and curtains pulled. If I hadn’t been here this time yesterday, I’d believe the city abandoned. Even the fountain no longer spills water into the wide pool below.

Doesn’t look like the Unseelie are here yet. Either that, or we missed them.

There’s a tug at the back of my skirt, followed my Nia’s whisper. “This was a mistake. We should go back.”

“Don’t be silly. We’ll be fine.” I slip into one of the smaller alleys with the best view. Across the square waits the well, as silent as the rest of the city.

Excitement bubbles like the cider we drank last night, effervescent and light in my chest. When I glance over my shoulder at Nia, my excitement turns to guilt. Her hands tremble where they grip her skirts, and her teeth worry her lower lip.

Poor thing. She really is terrified.

I’ve had my walk. Perhaps it would be best if we went back. I can always sneak out on my own next week. “Look, if you want to go home?—”

Her eyes widen, and her face drains of color as she takes a gulping breath. “It’s too late. They’re here.”

I whirl back toward the square where horses, larger than any I’ve ever seen, with coats and manes black as pitch, slowly plod into the square. Deadly spikes protrude from the beasts’ massive foreheads, gleaming like obsidian.

Not horses. Unicorns .

Here I thought the creatures of legend were all extinct.

Most of the unicorns pull small wooden carts laden with large clay jugs. It’s hard to fathom crossing that rickety bridge on foot, let alone on horseback.

As fascinating as the unicorns may be, they’re nothing compared to the fae sitting astride the beasts.

My heart pounds a little harder, climbing my throat, swelling with each rapid beat. Heavens …

Nia catches my arm, tugging me deeper into the alley, her labored breaths wheezing as she presses herself against the stone wall. “Shit. Shit. What are we going to do?”

“Take a deep breath. They’re here for water, remember? Not us. We are perfectly safe.” I pry myself from her strangle-hold and grip the gritty stones, peering around the wall to watch the Unseelie approach the well.

Nia leans over me, her fingers white as the mortar where they dig into the wall. “They’re giants…”

Not giants, exactly, but certainly well over six feet tall. Taller than any of the men I met at the pub. “And would you look at that? Not a horn in sight.”

Not a shirt in sight either, which I appreciate more than I’ll ever admit. Unlike the softer Seelie men, the Unseelie look as if they’ve been carved from marble. The only hint of color is their greenish-gray skin that reminds me of a forest drenched in fog. While Seelie fae have hair of all shades and hues, the Unseelie’s hair is black as a raven’s wing. Some have the sides shorn so short, you can see the skin beneath.

Black rings climb their pointed ears, longer at the top than our own. They ride as if they’re one with the creatures beneath them, all lithe grace and raw power.

All twelve come to a sudden halt. After a careful sweep of the area, they dismount as one.

The muscles in their arms flex and bulge when they lift the jugs from the carts, carrying them up the stairs to the well at the top.

“Can you see any fangs?” Nia asks.

“No. You?”

“Not from here.”

Then again, their mouths are pressed flat, so it’s difficult to tell.

Drawing water is a slow, tedious process and the trip back to the carts takes two, sometimes three men to carry each jug. If there weren’t steps, they could wheel the carts right up to the well. Doesn’t seem fair that they should have to carry them when all we do is turn on the tap.

The man at the front seems to be directing the others.

And he is magnificent.

Not handsome in the conventional sense like Ronan or Trevor. His jaw and cheekbones look sharp enough to slice through you. But they’re not nearly as cutting as his eyes. Even from this far away, I can see they’re black as coal, and always alert.

Each man wears a dagger at his belt, the handle made from white wood. These weapons look nothing like Ronan’s blade. The prince’s was for show. I have a feeling theirs have tasted death.

Definitely not what I expected. “They’re…”

“Monsters. I know. I did warn you.”

Monsters? Hardly. “They’re beautiful.”

The man at the front turns his head toward us, and my stomach tenses, my lungs holding my exhale hostage. It’s a coincidence, nothing more. There’s no way he can hear or see us from all the way over there.

Even after I force out my breath and inhale anew, my head continues to spin.

“You are mad, Kerris Dawn,” Nia whispers.

I might be mad, but I stand by what I said. Look at them. Even their flat stomachs are corded with ridges of muscle. They remind me of the bulls I’ve seen, alone in their pens. Not a pinch of fat on any of them.

“Why are there no women?” I whisper.

“Because they’re born not of flesh and bone, but of darkness and shadows.”

Nonsense. They look flesh and bone to me.

The longer I stare, the louder my heart sings inside my breast until Nia pushes away from the wall and tugs at my skirt. “Come on. You’ve had your gander. Let’s get out of here before they eat us for dinner.”

She’s right, there is no logical reason for us to linger. Still, I find myself looking back one last time…

And finding a pair of black eyes trained on me.

Time stands still, the final grains of sand in an hourglass falling to their doom. My thundering pulse floods my ears as if I’ve been sprinting instead of standing frozen, staring back at the darkest eyes I’ve ever seen.

The Unseelie moves not a muscle, and neither do I, caught in a silent exchange where only the two of us exist.

Nia’s tug of my skirt drags me back to this world. I duck out of sight, but the strange sensation of being watched follows me all the way to Nia’s cottage. We burst through the gates, falling onto the soft grass next to a forsythia bush riddled with bulbous bees.

Saints above… I don’t think I’ve ever run as fast.

“That was the most exhilarating moment of my entire life,” Nia pants up at the downy clouds, the heel of her hand massaging her heaving chest.

Exhilarating, indeed. Although not nearly as exhilarating at locking eyes with that Unseelie fae. “I think he saw me.”

Nia lifts to her elbows and peers down at me with her brow crushed up. “Who? One of the Unseelie?”

I nod.

“Heaven help us. If that’s true, we’re lucky to be alive.”

Are we though? I felt no malice from the man, only the same curiosity that hums in my veins.

That night, when I finally manage to drift into sleep, I dream of shadows, black eyes, and blood-drenched blades.