Page 7 of The Masked Fae (Royal Fae of Rose Briar Woods 1)

“Very well.” I bow before her with a flourish of my hand. “Then here is where we part.”

“You’re leaving?” she asks, reaching for me before she thinks better of it. For just a moment, she grasps my arm. Then, just as quickly, she pulls her hand back.

I cock my head to the side. “Let’s just say that as a bandit, as you so eloquently called me, I haven’t endeared myself to the Fae.”

That is also true, but only when it’s worded carefully. Still, magic makes my stomach squirm, letting me know it doesn’t like me bending the truth quite so far.

“How will I get in?” Her eyes are wide, and I’m sure she’s worried she’ll end up standing in front of this massive gate alone in the woods all night.

I reach past her, grasp the velvet rope that hangs behind a tree bough, and give it a firm tug. “They know you are here.”

She gulps, visibly spooked. “Thank you for escorting me.”

“Do not wander alone in the woods again,” I instruct her, and then I turn to leave. “And whatever you do, don’t initiate a bargain with Lord Ambrose. I will tell you again—Faeries are dangerous.”

“Wait!” she calls. “You didn’t give me your name.”

“I have no name,” I respond, which is a form of truth, at least when I am dressed like this. My people call me the Highwayman. I am a shadow cloaked in midnight. Ridiculed or romanticized by most of the Fae, despised by my mother.

“Will I see you again?” she asks.

Instead of answering, I disappear into the woods to wait and watch. Alice loses sight of me, wringing her hands, and then reluctantly turns back to the gate.

A few minutes later, a flickering light appears on the other side of the gate, bobbing through the trees until its owner comes into view. My housekeeper holds a single candle in one hand and dons a thick leather glove in her other. She wears a black gown, forever mourning her husband’s death.

I’m surprised my cousin answered the summon herself at this time of night. Regina is not truly part of my staff, but she currently acts as the lady of the house, dealing with the tedious daily affairs I have no patience for.

Regina’s face betrays her surprise when she sees the human girl standing on the other side of the gate in the dark of night.

Alice curtsies, looking terrified. “Good evening, madame. I am Alice Gravely, and I have come to request an audience with Lord Ambrose.”

Though Regina is only twenty-three, she has a stern look about her. But I know she has a softness for humans, as do so many of us who lived in Mother’s household ten years ago. Her expression becomes concerned as she glances down the road we walked. “You traveled alone?”

Alice hesitates a moment, and I wonder if she’s going to betray me. Not that it would matter—Regina is one of the few people who know of my evening activities.

“I hid in the woods when I met trouble on the road,” Alice says carefully, as if she doesn’t want to lie. Strange, considering how easily deception comes to her kind.

“I see.” Regina frowns, and then she shakes her head. “Very well. Come inside.”

She pulls back the heavy rod with her gloved hand and pushes the gates open. Alice enters the grounds slowly, perhaps remembering my warnings.

“You’re safer in here than you are out there,” Regina points out.

“Am I?” Alice asks softly, looking unsure.

Without waiting, Regina leads her down the lane. “Come along.”

I watch Alice follow the candlelight, and then I rouse myself, knowing I don’t have much time. Quickly, I run along the boundary, stopping when I reach the towering willow that arcs a great branch over the iron fence. I leap up, grasping hold and pulling myself on top of it. I walk the sturdy limb until I’m over the fence, and then I jump down, cutting through the dense forest as I head toward the manor. Once I reach it, I climb the lattice on the southwestern side and then crawl over my balcony rail.

As always, I’ve left the door to my bedchamber unlocked. Quickly, I shed my black clothes for ones appropriate for a marquis. After tossing the hat aside, I smooth my short hair and then walk briskly for the door.

“Brahm!” Wallen, my valet, cries at a whisper when I step into the foyer. “Your mask.”

I rip it from my face just as the front doors open and Regina escorts Alice inside.

“I do not believe Lord Ambrose is in right now,” Regina informs Alice. “But you may wait—”

“I’m here,” I say curtly, subtly handing my mask to Wallen.