Page 111 of The Masked Fae (Royal Fae of Rose Briar Woods 1)

I cross the carriage, claiming the spot on the bench next to her. I take her waist, sliding her toward me, pleased when she comes eagerly. “Everything about you is appealing, Alice.”

She lets out a satisfied sigh when I kiss her. Then suddenly, she tilts her head back. “You said I was uncomfortable.”

“That wasn’t a lie,” I laugh.

Her eyes flash with irritation, but when she tries to pull away, I clutch her closer. Moving my lips to her ear, I say, “You made me want things I didn’t think I could have.”

“You can have them.” She turns to face me. “You can have me.”

I nod, studying her as I brush her hair back from her face. “Soon.”

Alice lays her head on my shoulder and tugs the blanket over us both.

I drape my arm around her back, and we travel the rest of the way to Davon like this, our fingers twined together, in peaceful silence.

Beyond the carriage window, farms dot the snow-blanketed countryside. Red-painted barns contrast the never-ending white, and smoke rises from cozy farmhouse chimneys. Cows and horses stand in the snow, looking impervious to the weather.

“I’ve never seen anything like it.” I rest my cheek against Alice’s head.

“You don’t have farms in Faerie?” Alice asks.

I shake my head. “Not like these. Many grow gardens, and some keep chickens or ducks for eggs. But most of the meat that graces our tables is wild, and many refuse to eat it at all.”

“Have you ever been this far away from Fae territory?”

“No,” I answer. “We don’t generally venture deep into the human kingdoms. We have no business there, and we’re not particularly welcome.”

The farms grow smaller the closer we get to the capital, and the houses become closer together. They group in little villages that outskirt the city, and eventually, large buildings begin to dot the roadways. We pass taverns, guild houses, inns, and craftsmen’s shops.

As we venture deeper into Davon, cottages are replaced with tall boardinghouses that house many families of meager income and even larger, gated townhouses for the wealthy. More people travel the busy streets—men driving canvas-covered wagons, bringing produce from the warmer regions into the city; carriages, both public and private; and men and women on horseback, braving the gray sky and the chill. Bundled-up children run on the streets, their scarves flying in the air behind them, and people bustle between shops.

“So many humans,” I murmur.

Alice laughs. “You do tend to run into many of them in human cities. Strange how that works.”

A grand cathedral stands in the distance, its medieval parapets towering over the rooftops. At the top of the hour, the bells ring, scaring a flurry of blackbirds into the air.

The carriage comes to a slow, bumping stop near the snowy entrance of a public garden. Shifting from under the blanket, I move to the opposite side of the carriage just before Darren opens the door.

“We’ve arrived in Davon, my lord,” Darren informs us, letting in the afternoon chill. “Where would you like me to take you?”

“The city magistrate’s office,” I tell him.

He bows his head. “I’ll ask for directions, and then we’ll continue.”

The door closes, and Alice shivers across from me, pulling the blanket over her shoulders. “It’s cold.”

A few minutes later, we continue our trip through the city, eventually entering an old section with large, stately buildings and meticulously planted landscapes. Bare-limbed trees grow encased in small, circular iron fences, and boxwoods line the streets, cut into spherical topiaries.

The shops in the square boast glass windows with striped awnings over their entries. Judging from the people on the streets, only the well-to-do can afford to shop in this district.

We come to a stop in front of a large stone building. The painted sign that hangs from the eaves states it’s the local magistrate’s office.

“I think we’re here,” I tell Alice.

A nervous smile flits across Alice’s face, letting me know I’m not the only one feeling anxious.

“You’re sure about this?” I ask her quietly.