Beauty (A Faery Story 3)

Pain wracked her world as she came to consciousness. A hand moved across her mouth.

“Hush, child. If they discover us, they’ll bring us before Torin, and then we’ll both wish we were dead.”

Bron opened her eyes. What had happened? Where was she? The room was dark, and there was a hard, cold floor beneath her body.

Her body. She reached for her stomach. She could still feel the knife sliding in. It hadn’t hurt at first, as though her body wasn’t sure what to make of such evil, but then her whole being had lit with agony as her death had become real. Now she felt only smooth skin where there should be a hole.

A single candle illuminated the small space she was in. She shivered.

“You feel the cold. That’s a good thing.”

Gillian. Bron tried to get her brain working. The Unseelie princess had arrived a mere two days before. She was an envoy for the Unseelie king, come to discuss some sort of treaty between the two tribes. Bron hadn’t been surprised her father had taken the meeting, but she doubted there could be lasting peace between the Seelie and the Unseelie. Too much bad blood. Why was she here? Why hadn’t Gillian McIver run?

“Can you move? Don’t try to sit up. Just flex your hands at first. The magic I used was strong.”

Magic? Bron flexed both of her hands and was surprised at how strong she felt. She took a moment, flexing and moving each muscle.

Gillian nodded down at her. “You’re strong, Your Highness. Stronger than I would have given you credit for.”

She felt stronger. Something had taken root in her gut, some deep sense that she was changed.

“My parents are dead.” She knew it, but she needed to say it. The words would make it real. Her parents were gone, her home taken from her by that vile traitor. Torin. She would call him uncle no more.

Gillian’s dark hair touched the floor, and she gazed down at her. “Yes, Your Highness.”

“No. I’m not a princess now. I’m a…what is the word? Fugitive. I’m a fugitive.”

Gillian’s eyes went hard. “You are the Princess of the Seelie Fae. They can take your crown. They can take your palace. But you never let them take your name, Bronwyn Finn.”

There it was again—that odd strength surged in her. She sat up. “Are my brothers alive?”

“I think so. Beckett Finn had a chance to kill the pretender, but he chose to save his other half. It was necessary. I believe they ran. It’s why I was able to move your body. Torin set everyone on the twins. He believes you’re dead.”

“He won’t once he can’t find my body.” She needed to run.

Gillian’s nose wrinkled. She was a lovely woman, but now she looked full of mischief. “Oh, he’ll find your body. I switched it with one of the servant girls. I didn’t kill her. She was already dead. I figured she wouldn’t mind. It rather was her duty to protect you. It seems everyone was a bit derelict today.”

“You can’t blame the servants. They’re supposed to serve dinner not fight off a coup.”

“Unseelie servants know a coup can come at any moment.”

“Well, I don’t see your guards here.” Bron felt an inexplicable need to defend her house. She sat up.

“My guards are dead. They did their duty, but we were overrun once the battle began. As far as I can tell, your father was killed almost instantly. Torin seems to have bribed some of your father’s guards to his side. Or perhaps he’s been playing a long game and he had them placed here. It doesn’t matter now. The only thing that matters is getting you away from here.”

“How am I alive?” She took a deep breath, her lungs filling, the very act pleasurable in that she’d never expected to do it again. Her fe

et felt steady beneath her. She’d died. She knew she had. “Magic isn’t strong enough to bring back the dead.”

Gillian smiled, but even Bron could see the ruthless will behind it. She could remember her father warning her that the Unseelie princess might look like them, but she was and would always be Unseelie. The blood of goblins and trolls and all the dark creatures of the world ran through her veins. “Perhaps Seelie magic isn’t strong enough, but mine is. Well, mine combined with my brothers’.”

“Are they really symbiotic, like Beck and Cian?” She’d heard the rumor that the Unseelie king’s vampire wife had born a set of symbiotic twins just as her own mother had. Symbiotic twins were born with one soul and two bodies. They were extremely powerful when they found the right bondmate, a woman who could bridge their rendered soul. At least that was what legend said.

“You’re going to find out for yourself.” Gillian stood and pulled a small pack from the table in the corner. Bron noticed she was dressed in soft leather pants and a man’s shirt. It made her curvy body look a bit round, but with her hair tucked into a cap, she might pass as a peasant man if no one looked too closely.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean we have to find a way off this plane and back to my own before that jackass Torin seals the exits. My father will take care of you, youngling.” Her eyes took on a serious air. “And so will my brothers.”