Page 19 of The Masked Fae (Royal Fae of Rose Briar Woods 1)

ALICE

Iforgot to ask the bandit about Lord Ambrose’s mother.

The thought of never seeing him again makes me feel rather listless, but I try not to dwell on it as I tend the plants in the conservatory. Today, I have been instructed to remove all fading, yellow, or misshapen leaves from each and every plant.

I work quietly, glad to have been given a chore that keeps me away from the others. The marquis appears to be a solitary man. He doesn’t entertain many high-titled Fae, thank goodness, but even his staff looks down on me—and they likely would even if my family name was still in good standing. It’s because I’m a human in Faerie, lingering where I don’t belong, still wearing my torn gown since the others won’t be ready for a week.

Pausing next to a pale yellow rose, I breathe in its sweet fragrance, letting it soothe my frayed nerves as it reminds me of happier times in Grandmother’s garden.

I nearly jump when a man says behind me, “You seem content with your position.”

The bandit.

I whirl around, a broad smile spreading over my face, delighted at the prospect of seeing him in the light…

And then I freeze.

Lord Ambrose stands behind me, hands clasped behind his back, looking rather put out. His deep brown eyes roam the glassed room with an air of distaste. His short hair is perfectly groomed, swept away from his forehead in a crisp style that’s not unlike the human fashion that’s becoming popular in the cities.

He’s so handsome, he’s hard to look at. His shoulders are broad, not slender as I always imagined the Fae to be, and his waist is trim. He wears a tailored jacket in rich, deep green, paired with an amber brocade waistcoat. The colors bring out the warm, golden tone of his skin. Though exquisitely masculine, he’s too beautiful, and that alone makes him look a touch otherworldly.

I let out a peep of surprise, and fear paralyzes my limbs.

The marquis turns his dark eyes on me, narrowing them slightly. “Well?”

“Well?” I repeat stupidly.

“Are you content with the position Regina has chosen for you?”

“Oh, yes,” I say in a rush. “I like it here.”

He studies me solemnly for several seconds, and then he nods toward my hand. “I see my reputation has preceded me. Do you intend to stab me?”

I look down and realize I’m holding the garden shears like a weapon.

“No.” I quickly set them on the ledge of the raised pond. As I straighten, I spot dirt on my bodice. Flustered, I quickly brush it away. “Forgive me. I wasn’t expecting anyone.”

He doesn’t answer.

“Do you wish for solitude?” I ask, already edging toward the door. “I can leave…”

“I’ve come to pay you for your service.” He carries a velvet bag in his hand.

My eyes latch onto it, noting the way the contents bulge against the fabric.

“I don’t understand.” I raise my eyes to his. “I’ve only worked two days.”

As if Lord Ambrose doesn’t want to hold my gaze, he glances around the conservatory once more, looking bored. “Everything seems to be in order here. You did a fine job—our arrangement is complete. Take the money and return to Kellington.”

“And my brother?”

Lord Ambrose’s expression tightens, and he finally looks back. “There is nothing I can do for your brother.”

“You will not show Gustin mercy, yet you would give me a small fortune for a day and a half of work?” I say skeptically.

The marquis’s expression hardens. “I find your presence uncomfortable. Take the money and go back to your side of the bridge, where you belong. Never again will you be presented with such a generous offer.”

The words sting. Lord Ambrose finds me uncomfortable? What have I done to earn his distaste? I’ve barely seen him.