Page 4 of Manor of Wind and Nightmares (Fae of Brytwilde #3)

Then

T he churning, steel-grey clouds and rumble of distant thunder matched my tangled emotions.

As I peered through the window to scan the Bittertide’s rough waves, I prayed to gods I wasn’t sure existed that the smudge of approaching land on the horizon would somehow never grow closer.

Or better yet, that I could turn back time by eleven months and undo the moment I’d first met King Wystan.

When I’d made this cursed bargain.

When I’d doomed myself to months of grueling training spent among the cruel fae of Emberglade.

And now, to the bloody mission I would have to carry out in Willowbark, or lose my entire family to King Wystan’s threats.

The worst part was, I couldn’t even trust that he would keep his word even if I fulfilled my vow and slew Prince Kaede.

Since he wasn’t fully fae and could lie, anything was possible.

But I knew testing fate any further and angering the king by refusing him was unthinkable.

I had to cling to the shred of hope that I did have, that he would fulfill his vow if I kept mine.

Gods forgive me.

If they cared enough about the affairs of those on earth to pay me any heed now, the gods would condemn me for this.

By the time our ship reached the docks and its passengers descended, the storm had unleashed its full fury.

Rain battered against the window, obscuring my vision of the outside world.

A sharp knock drew me from my quarters, and King Wystan’s personal guard escorted me, along with him and his daughter, off the ship, through the storm, and into a nearby pub.

Welcome warmth enveloped us instantly. I kept the hood of my cloak firmly in place to conceal my curved ears as I stepped inside, rainwater dripping from my clothes and leaving a slick trail along the worn floorboards.

I took in the cozy fire flickering in the hearth and the smattering of fae eating and drinking.

Most were sailors and dock workers waiting out the storm.

I had grown accustomed to living among fae, but Willowbark was unfamiliar.

Here, the people were a little rough around the edges, reminding me of hard-working mortals.

Men with large, calloused hands laughed over their meals, and a waitress in a homespun dress and apron chatted with some of the patrons at the bar.

My chest tightened with guilt. They didn’t know I was there to start a war.

We settled around a table, a few guards leaving us to order food and drink on our behalf while the rest settled themselves at nearby tables, ever vigilant and dutiful when it came to their royal family’s safety.

King Wystan settled into the seat across the table from me.

His own hood was drawn so low that I could barely make out the dusky glow of his inhuman orange eyes.

My heart skipped a beat. Rumors abounded within his own kingdom.

He was greatly feared, his own people even claiming he was the offspring of a dark god and a fae.

Others whispered of a terrible bargain he’d made with a demon of the underworld to gain the ability to read the minds of both mortals and immortals.

A few shared King Wystan’s own story of being half-troll, but that didn’t explain his intrusive magic.

I’d quickly learned that even among the fae, his ability was rare.

He hadn’t been born to the royal family, either—rather, he’d used his magic to rise to power.

When he could discern exactly what his opponents’ and allies’ greatest fears and wishes were with a single glance, how could he not be fearsome and mighty?

I dropped my eyes, hating that I’d given him another glimpse at my anxious thoughts.

Beside me, Princess Briar Emberglade tossed back her hood with a careless wave of her red locks, flicking a shower of droplets toward my face.

She wielded her beauty like a weapon, effortlessly influencing fellow fae, who seemed to find her especially stunning even compared to their perfect standards, to do her bidding.

“Your escort will arrive tomorrow,” King Wystan explained.

Already, a flurry of harried staff members, along with the innkeeper himself, were rushing out from back rooms, likely notified by the guards that the king and princess of Emberglade had arrived. They couldn’t have expected such illustrious guests to stay the night at their humble establishment.

“Your Majesty,” the innkeeper said, his cheeks rosy from running. He bowed toward the king before turning and bowing to Princess Briar. “Your Highness. I am honored you have chosen to visit me, and my staff and I will be happy to provide you with anything you need during your stay.”

King Wystan waved a lazy hand. “No need for extravagance. We would actually prefer that our presence remain quiet.” There was an unspoken threat in his words.

His eyes darted about the room toward the other patrons, who had gone quiet, staring in awe—and perhaps a bit of worry.

The alliance between Emberglade and Willowbark was still new and tenuous, after all.

For being so powerful, King Wystan also seemed exceptionally paranoid about possible assassination.

Then again, if he was so preoccupied with killing his enemies, it was logical he would assume they spent an inordinate amount of time plotting his demise in turn.

“Of course,” the innkeeper said, trying to conceal his fear with a smile. “I’ll spread the word to all my guests and ensure the silence of my staff.”

We ate in silence, heaviness settling over me with each bite I forced myself to take. I’d need my strength for all that was to come.

At last, Princess Briar turned to me. “Come with me. You will pretend to be one of my maids.”

King Wystan gave a wave of dismissal. Silently, I stood and followed Briar through the dining room and toward the stairs, where several guards and her maids waited. Servants were already carting up the trunks that I would be using as I posed as Briar.

“We’ll settle you in with a nice bath,” said Daisy, one of Briar’s personal maids, while we climbed to the second floor.

On the right of the plain hallway, an open door revealed the princess’s— my room—with an attached washroom and a steaming bath already drawn.

The trio of maids instantly set to work unpacking a nightgown and assorted toiletries from some of the already-waiting trunks.

Briar sniffed at the sparseness of the room.

“I’m glad I’ll only be spending one night in this place,” she muttered.

“I can only imagine where they settled me when I’m pretending not to be royalty.

” She turned to another of her maids—Sage—as the last servant brought in a final trunk. “Close the door.”

As soon as the door clicked shut, the princess whirled on me.

“Tonight you begin your charade, and therefore, you must behave with the elegance and confidence expected of a fae princess. One of my maids will serve you your potion. Remember to take it faithfully each day from now on, or it will begin to wear off and reveal your human form.”

I nodded. None of this was new information, as she, her father, and their trainers had drilled it into me many times, but Princess Briar enjoyed ordering others about and needed to feel as if she had control over this situation.

It was clear that it irked her vanity to imagine that a human might behave ill while pretending to be her.

Even if the one I had to fool the most was the one I had to kill.

If I sullied her reputation, it wasn’t as if anyone in Willowbark would care once I made her out to be a murderer.

“Most of all, you must be charming.” Briar’s gaze was intense.

“The crown prince may be tied to this arranged marriage, but he is still royalty. As soon as you arrive, if they allow you to meet him before the ceremony, beguile him. Enchant him. Whatever powers you have as a mere human, use them. Take advantage of wearing my beauty. He might wheedle his way out of the agreement if you are too odious, or his parents may even undo it. Or he could go through with the wedding but avoid you afterward and reduce your opportunities to strike.” She seized my arm, her grasp unrelenting.

“Make him want a wedding night with you. Don’t let my good looks go to waste. ”

“Of course,” I said evenly. Inside, I was disgusted, but this wasn’t the first time discussions of wedding nights and manipulation had been thrown my way. I no longer burned with shame at the mere mention of them.

“Don’t let your human modesty destroy our plans.

” Briar frowned. “If he wants to kiss you or embrace you—or even more—before or after the wedding, don’t act like a fool.

Be assertive and don’t pretend to be ignorant in the ways of love.

” She sighed. “If nothing else, pretend to be coy. Cover your shyness and naivety by behaving as if you’re trying to pique his interest with delayed gratification.

Beauty is power. Beauty is control. Use it. ”

Not knowing what else to say, I nodded furiously, all the while hoping I could assassinate the prince long before he ever pressed his lips to mine or attempted anything more.

It was awful enough to know I was about to kill someone, but imagining kissing him and then killing him? It sounded particularly abominable.

“Don’t fail,” Briar finished, her words heavy and ominous, as if she would hunt me down and murder me herself if I did.

As she flounced out of the room, I was left to stare at all the stunning silk, lace, diamonds, rubies, and pearls spilling from multiple trunks.

It all seemed so frivolous when I’d be traveling.

But Princess Briar deeply valued her appearance.

She’d commissioned each article of clothing from her personal seamstress and ensured they were all perfectly fit to my measurements.