BRAHM
Ishould have let the goblins eat the girl.
But no, it will be all right. I’ll simply turn her away when she requests an audience. She won’t recognize me—how could she? She hasn’t even seen my face.
I watch Alice from the corner of my eye as we walk down the road. Her long, pale blonde hair shines silver in the starlight, and her dress is torn in several places thanks to the brambles. Even though she has likely never walked this far in her life, she doesn’t complain or ask how far we have left to travel.
Thisgirl is that half-wit’s sister?
If Alice had any idea what her brother offered me when he realized what he’d lost, she wouldn’t be here on his behalf. I shake my head at the thought of any human sending their kin into Faerie—it’s unthinkable.
Just as unthinkable as the eldest prince of West Faerie accepting the ridiculous trade.
But Lord Gustin didn’t know my true identity when he made his desperate offer, just as his sister doesn’t know I am Lord Ambrose. I go by many aliases—so many, in fact, I often forget who I am myself.
And apparently now, I am a thief.
Something small scampers across the road and into the bushes, and Alice jumps.
I peer at her, narrowing my eyes. “If you are afraid of mice, you certainly shouldn’t have crossed the boundary. There are far worse things than rodents on this side of the bridge.”
“Things like goblins,” she murmurs.
“Things worse than goblins. Some would say Lord Ambrose is one of them.”
She looks at me, silently scrutinizing me in the glow of the pale waxing moon that has risen over the trees. It shines down on us, fat and nearly round.
Luckily for Alice, it won’t be full for two more days. Imagine the trouble she would have found herself in if I weren’t scouting the woods tonight.
As it was, I almost didn’t leave when the shadows grew long. I had a headache, likely brought on by the message I received from my mother. Dreading her monthly masquerade, I nearly retired to my bedroom, deciding any stray humans could find their own way back to the boundary.
There are always a few caught on our side of the bridge come night, each too careless to pay attention to the sun’s position in the sky until it’s too late.
For the most part, however, the humans I encounter are rushing for their side of the forest…not heading deeper into ours.
I glance at Alice again, and a scowl tugs at my lips.
A portrait, I scoff silently. The last thing I need is another likeness of myself gracing a random wall.
Narcissistic, she claims. As if this human girl has ever known one of us well enough to make that assumption. And how is it any fault of ours that we’re attractive? To deny it would be a lie, and those are far more painful than they’re worth.
We’re just nearing the estate gates when I realize that even once I turn Alice away, I won’t be rid of her. Someone must escort her back to the bridge. She’d never make it alone.
Too many creatures of Faerie are intrigued by her people. They’re captivated by humankind’s insatiable curiosity or their laughter, the feel of their skin or the taste of their flesh. It depends on what creature finds them whether they become pet or prey, but either fate is dark.
“Let them have their fun,”Mother always says. “There are enough humans in the world—no one is going to miss the few my subjects take.”
Perhaps I would agree, but only if she hadn’t come into our lives. I think of the girl who’s only a hazy memory at this point, dwelling on the past.
When I realize where my mind has wandered, I shake my head to clear it. But again, I glance at Alice, hit with the strangest sense of déjà vu.
Sensing she has my attention, the girl looks at me. “What is it?” she asks hesitantly.
“You remind me of someone.”
It’s impossible to make out the color of her eyes in the moonlight, but they’re a light shade. Amber, like rich honey, I imagine.
“Whom?”