Page 13 of The Masked Fae (Royal Fae of Rose Briar Woods 1)

“Honestly,” he mutters as if finding my company trying. “Yes, Alice, I will see you tomorrow.”

“You said it’s dangerous for you to come this close,” I say, realizing I’ve put him in a terrible position.

“No more dangerous than it is for you—go to sleep.”

“What’s your name?” I ask, repeating the question I asked in the woods.

“There is none I can give you.” And with that, he leaps from the balcony.

I gasp, running to the rail, the forest air cold in the night. I just barely make him out as he slips into the trees that come close to the manor, and then…he’s gone.

* * *

“You wantme to water the plants?” I ask dumbly, sure I misunderstood Regina when she informed me what position I’ve been assigned. I glance outside the hall window at the estate grounds. Clouds have drifted low, and it’s rained on and off all morning.

“Not outside.” Her voice is abrupt, but it sounds like she’s suppressing a laugh. “The plants in the conservatory.”

Slowly, I nod.

“I’ve summoned a dressmaker from Corrinmead,” she continues. “She will be here this afternoon.”

“What for?”

The housekeeper looks over as we walk down the hall. “You cannot go around in that tattered gown.”

I glance down at my blue and gold dress. Before yesterday, it was one of my favorites, but there is no fixing the snags and small tears in the fabric. The damage has been done.

“I apologize for coming with so little,” I say. “It wasn’t my intention.”

I suppose the money for the clothing will come out of my pay, and it will take that much longer to earn what’s needed for new supplies.

As we walk, the two women who came into the foyer when I arrived yesterday pause in the hall ahead, their curious eyes latched onto us. They’re both beautiful, likely dangerous as well, considering their lineage. Judging from their long, black dresses and crisp white aprons edged with ruffles, they are housemaids.

They whisper to each other as they watch me, and the one with the loose, black hair and porcelain skin smirks at something her companion says.

For the first time in my life, I feel vulnerable—like I’m an ugly duckling dressed in rags, begging the master of the house for the scraps of his goodwill. I never realized how much of my confidence came from my family’s good standing in society.

It’s humiliating, and I avert my eyes as we pass. Regina doesn’t bother to introduce us, but I feel the girls’ stares until we turn the corner.

“Don’t mind them,” Regina says when we’re out of earshot. “They have the ridiculous belief that Lord Ambrose will someday look upon one of them. Therefore, they see anyone who enters the house as competition for his affection.”

“It could happen,” I say generously, remembering how lovely they were. Why wouldn’t he want one of them for his marquise?

Madame Regina laughs, genuinely amused by the thought. “His mother would never allow such a lowly union.”

I know nothing of Fae nobility, but the way she says it makes me wonder if I should know who Lord Ambrose’s mother is.

Not wanting to betray my ignorance, I keep the question to myself. I’ll ask the bandit tonight when I see him.

My stomach rumbles, protesting its lack of breakfast. I glance at the housekeeper, worried she might have heard. If she did, she pretends she didn’t.

I heeded the bandit’s warning, skipping the morning meal a kitchen maid delivered on a silver tray. It didn’t look unusual—just two soft-boiled eggs, toast, and a bowl of strawberries. But it wasn’t worth the risk.

We pass through the doors that lead into the conservatory, and the moment I step over the threshold, it’s as if the tension I’m carrying in my back and shoulders eases.

The room is large enough to stroll through. The glass walls are easily two stories high, and they meet the heavily slanted roof—also glass. The space is warm, and the air is heavy with moisture. It smells like earth and life. Short, potted citrus trees grow along the back wall, holding small, just ripening lemons amongst their glossy, dark green leaves.

More potted plants sit upon shelves and line walkways—most are roses. There are so many, all of them in full bloom, each boasting large, peony-shaped blossoms in pink, yellow, white, and crimson. They, too, lend their fragrance to the air.