Trapped (Imprisoned by the Fae 1)

He doesn’t sound surprised. He also has the strangest note to his voice. Almost conversational. Like we’re bullshitting about last night’s Mets game or something, not the fact that Jim’s waiting for me back home and I totally slept with Rys anyway.

When I don’t answer him, he says, “Is he your mate?”

What a strange question. Since I feel like I owe Rys the truth, I try to put my twisted emotions into words. “I… kinda? I don’t know. He’s my boyfriend. I’ve been with him since I was in high school.”

“Boyfriend. High school,” scoffs Rys. “Human terms. Tell me this: is he your soul mate?”

“I thought he was.”

“If you don’t know for sure, then he isn’t.” Rys shrugs, as if it’s as simple as that.

“It… it doesn’t bother you?”

“Why should it? He’s not your mate. Zella wasn’t mine. But you’re here and so am I.” He pauses for a heartbeat before asking, “Do you regret it?”

That’s the million dollar question, isn’t it?

And he’s not talking about Jim anymore. When he asks me if I regret it, he’s referring to last night.

“I… no. I probably should, but I don’t. And I won’t lie about that.”

“That’s my girl.” He lifts my hand, rubbing his thumb along the band of my promise ring. “You’re in Faerie now, Leannán. With me. Leave him in the Iron.”

He’s right. Even I can admit that.

And, this time, when Rys starts to lead me toward the cot, I let him.

Day twenty-seven.

I come to with a start, the number flashing in the back of my mind. I don’t get the chance to say it though, because, as my eyes fly open, Rys covers my mouth with his hand.

I’m lying flat on my back. His body is curved around mine, his back to the cell door. I can barely make out his expression. It’s still dark out in the prison, the torches beginning to wind down. Shit. It’s the middle of the night.

What’s going on?

With the tiniest jerk of his head, Rys wordlessly implores me to be silent. As if the hand clamped over my mouth isn’t a big, honking clue that’s something’s up. But I… I trust him and, as soon as I get my frantically beating heart under control, I nod.

He pulls his hand back, forming a fist with one finger extended. Rys puts that finger to his lip. I nod a second time and that’s when I realize that we’re not alone.

I can’t see them around the shape of Rys’s body, but when I pay attention to their conversation, I recognize the two voices without even making out their faces, though I never knew the name of the cruel Unseelie male. When Saxon greets the other guard, I make sure to remember it.

“Evening, Coal.”

“Saxon. What are you doing in this wing? I thought you were patrolling down by some of the lower races.”

“I was. Kyr took over that side and let me off early. I was cutting through to my quarters.”

“Interesting. Long way to take to your quarters. Are you sure you’re not sneaking down to visit Posey?”

“I’m sure, especially since I’d wager that’s where you’re coming from yourself.”

A hollow laugh from the Unseelie guard. “As sharp as ever. I’m off duty and she’s willing. No harm.”

Saxon’s voice doesn’t sound like he agrees with that, even though he says, “Of course.”

“Anyway, perhaps it’s luck that has us crossing paths tonight. I was wondering if you’ve had the chance to think over my proposition. It’s been gathering steam lately. Some of us knew that the Fae Queen was Unseelie in disguise and enjoyed the way she stole the Summer King’s throne. The Reign of the Damned was very lucrative for a while. This new rebellion should be doubly so.”

“I wouldn’t say that so loud.”