Page 118 of The Masked Fae (Royal Fae of Rose Briar Woods 1)

Finally, Brahm gives in, but only marginally. “I was in Valsta.”

Marison laughs gently. “I see. And why were you outside of Faerie?”

“That is my business,” Brahm says through his teeth.

“Prince Brahm and the human girl were married by a magistrate in Davon, Your Majesty,” a voice says from the doorway, startling us all. “I have done as you asked and watched your son diligently.”

Darren stands in the foyer, clutching his hat in his hands.

I gape at him as Queen Marison makes a choking noise. Violently, she turns back to Brahm.

“Is that true?” Her voice is grating this time, so harsh it shakes with her fury. She clenches her hand in the front of Brahm’s waistcoat, wrapping her long manicured nails into the fabric. “Tell me he is mistaken.”

Ignoring his mother’s command even though she practically has him by the throat, Brahm looks at Darren. “Who are you?”

With a low chuckle and a whirl of sparks, elderly Wallen stands in Darren’s place.

“Wallen?” Regina exclaims, aghast.

“Not quite,” the man says in Brahm’s valet’s voice. Again, the swirling sparks surround him, and this time, he takes the form of a small man with pointed, folding ears and a sharp grin.

“Changeling,” Brahm snarls.

It’s impossible to discern the man’s age, as I’ve never seen anything like him in my life. He’s only as tall as I am, with a face so generic, he looks like a blank slate. He saunters forward, still dressed in Darren’s clothes, and bows before the prince. “Took you long enough, Your Highness.”

“What did you do with Wallen?” Brahm demands.

“I dug a pit in the woods and threw him in. But don’t fret—I killed him first. Otherwise, it would have been cruel.”

Regina chokes back another sob, this one shaking her entire body.

“Enough!” Queen Marison jerks on Brahm’s collar. “Tell me—did you marry that human girl?”

“I don’t see how that concerns you,” Brahm says calmly, though I hear the edge of fear in his voice.

“No?” she pushes him away. “Maybe it concerns your dear, sweet Alice.”

“NO!” Brahm yells, but the castle guards surround him from behind, taking him by surprise with their sudden attack. “Alice!”

Marison crosses the room, and her red gown sways as she walks. Regina tries to push me behind her, but I stand my ground and pull the small copper letter opener from a deep pocket in my gown. I hold it out like a tiny weapon, perfectly aware of how pathetic it looks against a queen of Faerie.

“Not so innocent now, is she?” Marison swipes the blade out of my hand with no more than the flick of her wrist and a glimmer of magic. “Pathetic.”

“Alice,” Regina mews, still trying to get in front of me.

Marison raises her hand to strike me, and I brace myself for her attack. Suddenly, the queen hisses, clenching her hand into a fist as she pulls it back.

“You cannot touch her,” Brahm reminds his mother, the muscles in his jaw clenched as he continues to fight the guards. “You saw to that yourself when you agreed to the illanté tether.”

Marison’s eyes narrow on me. Her nostrils flare, making her look mad.

She whirls around to face her daughter. “Alice is not the only one you care about in this room.”

Though Sabine whimpers, her eyes flash. She looks like an injured, cornered animal about to attack.

“Get up,” Marison commands, flicking her fingers into the air.

Like a marionette moving against her will, Sabine rises. She cries in pain, gasping as she writhes back and forth, trying to fight her mother’s control.