Page 52 of The Gilded Fae (Royal Fae of Rose Briar Woods 2)

“This area is bad enough during the day,” Frederick adds.

“You’ve had business in this part of the city?” I ask incredulously.

“My father took in an orphaned family of children that were squatting in one of the shacks near here. The eldest boy was caught pickpocketing—”

Frederick is cut off by a bloodcurdling female scream, and we bolt into action. Barely able to make out the road, we run, tripping over overturned cobblestones more than once.

We turn a corner and skid to a dead stop. I’m not sure what I expected, but it wasn’t this.

A man cowers against a wall, hands held up in surrender, staring miserably at the blonde-haired princess who’s cornered him. Sabine holds a knife to his throat, so angry I can see the haze of magic crackling around her like the thunderstorm that’s moving ever closer to the city. Her scream wasn’t one of terror—it was a battle cry.

If her magic weren’t bound, the man would be on his knees before her, begging for mercy. Even contained, it’s a terrifying sight.

My relief is so acute, I’m nearly sick. I stumble against a nearby tree, clutching my stomach.

“Sabine!” Frederick cries, rushing to her side.

The princess looks our way, livid. A strand of hair falls across her face, adding to her raw, elemental appeal.

“Stay back, Frederick,” she threatens, pressing the blade closer to her new friend’s throat.

The man gulps, his fingers clutching the dirty stone wall behind him.

Frederick raises his hands in surrender. “What happened?”

Sabine nods toward her small trunk, which lies on its side next to her feet. “I think he was trying to steal my things. He said there was a coach house this way, but he led me here.”

“Where’d you get the knife?” I ask, edging forward.

“He pulled it on me when I questioned him.”

Only now do I notice the blood running from her hand to her wrist. He must have wounded her as she wrestled the blade from him.

Uncertain how to navigate the situation, I study the thief, frowning at his height and the width of his shoulders. He’s not a small man.

“She’s insane,” he says, his eyes pleading with us to save him.

Sabine laughs. “If you had a mother like mine, you’d be unstable too.”

“If you don’t stop her, she’ll kill me,” the man says, openly begging now. “Please.”

“We’ll turn him into the constable,” Frederick says reasonably to Sabine.

The princess’s eyes flash. “If I move back, he’ll run.”

“You’re hurt,” I say. “We need to tend to your hand.”

The Fae heal rapidly, but I’m not sure Sabine’s magic will knit the wound while she’s bound. I curse myself again, wishing I hadn’t gone down this path.

“What difference does it make to you if I bleed out?” Sabine asks hotly. “We’re not even friends.”

Frederick looks between us, not certain he wants to get in the middle of this.

I rub my hand over my face. Arguments are best left for daylight hours, preferably when my brain isn’t hazy with alcohol.

“Can’t we do this in the morning?” I ask wearily. “It’s late.”

Sabine laughs as if the notion is ridiculous. “I’m not going back with you.”