The Masked Fae (Royal Fae of Rose Briar Woods Book 1)

by Shari L. Tapscott

  “How much is it?” I ask.

  “Fifty-seven fluots.”

  That’s robbery if I’ve ever heard it, but the inflated prices are a product of the shop’s location and the clientele they cater to.

  But I have the money with me. It’s the leftover pay that Brahm gave me all those weeks ago for tending the conservatory plants.

  “I’ll buy it,” I say.

  “Lovely!” The shopkeeper beams. “I’ll wrap it up for you.”

  “I’ll take the little glass rabbit there as well,” I say, pointing into the case.

  The man’s smile grows. “Of course.”

  A few minutes later, I meet Brahm by the door.

  He gestures toward the brown paper bag the man gave me. “Did you find something you like?”

  I nod, pulling out the rabbit.

  He takes it to examine closer. “And what is its purpose?”

  “It’s a paperweight.”

  “All right,” he says, clearly not understanding the point of that any more than a glass rabbit.

  I laugh, taking it from him and carefully nestling it into the bag. “I thought Sabine might like it. She has all those little figurines in her room at your estate, and I’m not above bribing her to like me.”

  Giving me a curious look, Brahm’s smile softens. “She’ll love it.”

  When I pull out the letter opener, Brahm’s eyes go wide.

  “Don’t touch it,” I warn.

  He eyes the little tool with great distaste. “I wasn’t going to.”

  “It’s a precaution, that’s all,” I explain. “If a human is going to live in Faerie, with a mad queen as her mother-in-law, she must be able to protect herself somehow. I know you said the tether will keep me safe, but…”

  I shrug instead of finishing the sentence.

  “I understand—but now I must be extra cautious not to anger you.”

  I laugh, rolling my eyes as I slip the letter opener back into the bag. “I have no intention of using it on you.”

  Brahm’s expression becomes serious. “I hope you don’t have to use it at all.”

  When we return to the magistrate’s office, we find a blond-haired man with a short, trim beard speaking with the receptionist.

  “Ah, hello,” the woman says, turning to us as we enter the room. “Good timing. Magistrate Rodgers has just returned.”

  The magistrate scans the paper and then turns to us. “All seems to be in order. All that’s left is your signatures and the exchanging of vows, and then I’ll notarize the license.”

  Brahm and I step up to the desk together. My hands shake, though I’m not having second thoughts. I want this.

  “Shall we begin?” Magistrate Rodgers asks patiently.

  Brahm’s hand finds mine, and he interlaces our fingers. Together, we nod.

  “Are you both acting of your own free will?” the man begins.

  “We are,” we both parrot obediently.

  “And your father, miss?” he asks kindly. “Does he agree to this marriage?”

  “My father is deceased, sir,” I say. “I am now my own guardian.”

  “Very well. Do you”—he glances at the license—“Alice Elizabeth Gravely take Brahm Ambrose Severin to be your lawfully wedded husband? Do you swear to honor, love, protect, and cherish him through sickness and health, for better or worse, for as long as you both shall live?”

  “I do,” I say softly, feeling as if the butterflies in my stomach will carry me away.

  “And do you Brahm Ambrose Severin take Alice Elizabeth Gravely to be your lawfully wedded wife? Do you swear to honor, love, protect, and cherish her through sickness and health, for better or worse, for as long as you both shall live?”

  “I do,” Brahm answers confidently.

  “Then by the power vested in me by the Holy Sovereign and King Balthus of Valsta, I pronounce you husband and wife. Brahm, you may kiss your bride.”

  Tears sheen over my eyes as Brahm turns to me.

  I didn’t wear a white gown. We had no flowers or girls in fluffy dresses. There were no wreath-decked aisles, no candles, and not even a family member was present.

  But it’s perfect because Brahm is mine, and I am his—officially, bound by something more meaningful than the tether.

  Brahm kisses me softly, sealing the promise.

  “If you’ll now sign your names,” the man says when we part.

  We do as he asks, and then the receptionist steps forward to write her name as the witness. After Magistrate Rodgers signs the license as well, he seals it with his stamp.

  “Congratulations,” the receptionist says after the magistrate excuses himself. “We’ll file the license. If you ever wish to see it, it will be kept in the records building next door.”

  After we say our goodbyes, we leave the office, officially married.

  Feeling giddy, I sit next to Brahm in the carriage. After Darren closes the door, Brahm kisses our clasped hands, looking completely content. “So, Alice, how does it feel to officially be a princess of West Faerie?”

  I blink at him, startled by the realization. “I am, aren’t I?”

  He laughs, pulling me in for a real kiss. “You are.”

  We make it as far as Thornborough before it gets too cold to continue. I would have liked to have spent our first night together in Brahm’s estate, but the trip is just too long. After all the traveling, I’m so tired I don’t even care.

  The inn we find is small and quaint, and we stand outside a tiny room on the second level.

  My nerves nearly get the best of me as Brahm unlocks the door and pushes it open. The room stretches before us, roughly the same size as the stamp pads at the stationery shop.

  The bed is narrow and small, with one pillow and several heavy blankets. There’s a chair shoved under the tiny table, but it’s so close to the bed, it would be impossible to pull it out. A washing bowl rests on a petite cupboard under the window, and a hand-sized mirror hangs on the wall.

  All in all, it’s a sad sight, though I know I should be thankful it’s clean and tidy. It could be worse.

  At least, that’s what I keep telling myself.

  Brahm clears his throat as he steps inside, avoiding my eyes as I follow him in. “Would you like me to take this room, or…”

  Darren comes in behind me, setting down my trunk.

  “This is fine.” I cross my arms when I realize my fingers keep fidgeting at my sides.

  We didn’t tell our coachman what business we had with the magistrate in Davon, though I think he suspects.

  But the fewer people that know, the better—that’s why Brahm secured us two rooms for the night. We’ll continue the charade until we return to Brahm’s estate.

  It’s a depressing thought, but I’m not sure I want to spend our first night here anyway.

  “Good night, Alice.” Brahm hesitates in the doorway before he steps into the hall. “Sleep well.”

  “You too,” I murmur.

  After I lock the door behind him, I open my trunk with a sigh, wondering how I’ll ever get to sleep. I dress for bed, taking my time as I brush my hair, running the day’s events through my head.

  I smile when I remember how confidently Brahm said his vow.

  We’re married.

  I press my hand over my mouth, trapping in a girlish squeal. Tossing back the covers, I crawl into bed and stare at the ceiling, willing myself to sleep.

  But I lie here, thinking about Brahm…wondering what he’s thinking about. Is he in his room, staring at the ceiling, too? Does he wish he was with me?

  I sigh, spreading my hands to either side of the mattress, easily touching both edges. I don’t even know how we’d fit. Brahm isn’t a small man.

  The idea makes my cheeks heat, and I fan my face, laughing at my ridiculous thoughts.

  Every minute stretches longer than the last. I count backward from a hundred, but I’m still awake. I close my eyes, breathing evenly, telling myself I am very sleepy, but that does
n’t work either.

  My eyes fly open, and I press my head back into the pillow with a groan.

  Maybe, if I knew what room Brahm is in, I could—no.

  “It’s one night, Alice,” I scold myself. “You’ve been sleeping by yourself for a lifetime. Surely you can manage this.”

  I fluff the pillow several times, roll onto my side, and bunch the blankets against me. I close my eyes, sternly telling myself that I really will go to sleep this time.

  And then there’s a knock at the door—the quietest knock imaginable.

  I freeze in the bed, my heart thrumming hard enough it makes me dizzy.

  All is silent.

  Did I imagine it?

  Yes, that must be it. Maybe I was closer to dreaming than I realized.

  I close my eyes once more, but there—again.

  I heard it; I know I did.

  I throw back the covers and hurry across the room, my bare feet nearly silent on the wooden floor.

  “Yes?” I whisper through the door.

  “It’s me,” Brahm says from the other side.

  Immediately, I unlock the door and pull it open. He stands in the hall, his hair disheveled and his shirt open and loose. He leans a forearm against the doorframe, and his eyes trail over my nightgown.

  Just seeing him makes my knees weak.

  “Did I wake you?” he asks quietly.

  “No.” A delicious chill feathers over my skin, making me shiver.

  “I…” Brahm pauses, glancing away. When he looks back, he gives me a roguish smile that makes the cold hall feel like a fiery inferno. “Do you want company?”

  I reach for him, and he responds immediately. We crash into each other, both desperate. Brahm kisses me, his mouth greedy, his hands possessive at my sides. I cling to him, dragging him into the room. He closes the door behind us, fumbling with the lock without breaking the kiss.

  I’m on fire, burning with sensation. I tug at the hem of Brahm’s shirt, desperate to toss it to the floor.

  “Alice,” he groans, stripping it over his head.

  My hands trail over his bare skin, exploring his muscular stomach and back, roaming where they will.

  He sits on the bed and then pulls me onto his lap. I’m taller than him in this position, and I set my hands on his shoulders, cherishing the moment.

  “I love you,” Brahm breathes, dragging his lips down my neck, peppering my skin with kisses.

  I tuck my finger under his chin and tilt his head back. He looks up, his dark brown eyes meeting mine in the dim candlelight of the tiny inn room.

  “And I love you, Brahm. With all my heart.”

  He takes my head in my hands, pulling me down to meet him. He kisses me long and slow, the pace suddenly slowing to a simmer.

  “Brahm,” I plead against his lips.

  He angles his head, deepening the kiss as he lays me on the bed. Then he tilts his head back and brushes his hand through my loose hair. “You’re beautiful.”

  I trail my hand over his chest—down and up, down and up—while letting him drink his fill, reminding myself we’re in no hurry.

  He glances around, taking in the room before he looks back at me. “We can wait.”

  “I want you,” I say simply, trailing my fingertips over his biceps and forearms, learning all his ridges and soft angles.

  “You’re sure?” he asks, catching my hand and kissing the silver ring, loving me enough to wait.

  I nod, pulling him to me. “I’m positive.”

  27

  ALICE

  The air warms as soon as we cross the bridge into Faerie, though it takes a little bit for it to chase the chill from the inside of the carriage. But soon, I’m able to push away the blanket. The smell of the rosy woods greets us, but it’s no longer an ominous fragrance.

  I belong here now, and I think the woods approve.

  We arrive at Brahm’s estate just after dark, and I yawn as I step out of the carriage.

  No one comes out to greet us, which seems strange. I expected to see Regina at least.

  Brahm frowns as Darren tends to the horses, walking toward the door. I take his arm, holding him back.

  “Something doesn’t feel right,” I say quietly.

  He nods, pressing his hand over mine.

  Just before we reach the door, Regina steps out. Her expression is flat, but when her eyes meet Brahm’s, the barest hint of anxiety crosses her face. “Your mother has come for a visit.”

  Brahm’s arm stiffens under my hand, and he gives Regina a curt nod.

  We take the remainder of the stairs quickly, entering the foyer together. As I feared, Queen Marison waits for us, with Ian at her side.

  At least a dozen castle guards are here as well, standing expressionless in their posts around the room.

  Three of them hold Drake, keeping the prince in place.

  Sabine sits on the floor next to her mother, face in her hands like a child. When we step inside, she looks up, and I gasp.

  She’s pale, and her skin shines with perspiration. Dark circles rim her eyes, and her lips are almost white.

  “Sabine,” Brahm breathes, crossing the room.

  “Stop.” Queen Marison raises her hand, adding magic to the command. Brahm freezes halfway to his sister, leg stretched oddly in front of him. He should fall, but the spell must be keeping him in place. His eyes blaze, and Regina takes a step closer to me, grasping my arm as she tries to draw me back.

  Her fingers tremble, and my stomach begins to roll.

  “Do you know what your sister did, Brahm?” Queen Marison asks in a conversational tone that’s at odds with her flashing eyes.

  Refusing to answer, Brahm stays silent.

  Marison’s smile flickers. “She tried to lie to me.”

  A sob escapes Sabine, and the princess clutches her stomach.

  “Foolish girl.” Marison casts a scathing look at her daughter. “Perhaps she thought she could hide the pain. She didn’t realize it increases as we age.”

  Regina chokes beside me, trying not to cry as she watches the scene between her aunt and cousins. I grasp her hand, clutching it tightly to offer comfort even though I’m terrified as well.

  “Do you know what she lied about?” Queen Marison continues, sounding as if she’s scolding a disobedient child.

  But again, Brahm defies her by staying silent.

  With a flick of her wrist, Marison releases Brahm. He stumbles, nearly falling before he catches his balance. He rights himself, standing tall even as his mother steps up right in front of him. She’s far shorter than he is, slender and slight, and yet she’s easily the most terrifying thing in the room.

  “She lied about you,” Marison says. “About your whereabouts.”

  Still, Brahm refuses to answer.

  “Tell me, where were you? Why did your sister stoop to such a level?”

  Finally, Brahm gives in, but only marginally. “I was in Valsta.”

  Marison laughs gently. “I see. And why were you outside of Faerie?”

  “That is my business,” Brahm says through his teeth.

  “Prince Brahm and the human girl were married by a magistrate in Davon, Your Majesty,” a voice says from the doorway, startling us all. “I have done as you asked and watched your son diligently.”

  Darren stands in the foyer, clutching his hat in his hands.

  I gape at him as Queen Marison makes a choking noise. Violently, she turns back to Brahm.

  “Is that true?” Her voice is grating this time, so harsh it shakes with her fury. She clenches her hand in the front of Brahm’s waistcoat, wrapping her long manicured nails into the fabric. “Tell me he is mistaken.”

  Ignoring his mother’s command even though she practically has him by the throat, Brahm looks at Darren. “Who are you?”

  With a low chuckle and a whirl of sparks, elderly Wallen stands in Darren’s place.

  “Wallen?” Regina exclaims, aghast.

  “Not quite,” the man says in Brah
m’s valet’s voice. Again, the swirling sparks surround him, and this time, he takes the form of a small man with pointed, folding ears and a sharp grin.

  “Changeling,” Brahm snarls.

  It’s impossible to discern the man’s age, as I’ve never seen anything like him in my life. He’s only as tall as I am, with a face so generic, he looks like a blank slate. He saunters forward, still dressed in Darren’s clothes, and bows before the prince. “Took you long enough, Your Highness.”

  “What did you do with Wallen?” Brahm demands.

  “I dug a pit in the woods and threw him in. But don’t fret—I killed him first. Otherwise, it would have been cruel.”

  Regina chokes back another sob, this one shaking her entire body.

  “Enough!” Queen Marison jerks on Brahm’s collar. “Tell me—did you marry that human girl?”

  “I don’t see how that concerns you,” Brahm says calmly, though I hear the edge of fear in his voice.

  “No?” she pushes him away. “Maybe it concerns your dear, sweet Alice.”

  “NO!” Brahm yells, but the castle guards surround him from behind, taking him by surprise with their sudden attack. “Alice!”

  Marison crosses the room, and her red gown sways as she walks. Regina tries to push me behind her, but I stand my ground and pull the small copper letter opener from a deep pocket in my gown. I hold it out like a tiny weapon, perfectly aware of how pathetic it looks against a queen of Faerie.

  “Not so innocent now, is she?” Marison swipes the blade out of my hand with no more than the flick of her wrist and a glimmer of magic. “Pathetic.”

  “Alice,” Regina mews, still trying to get in front of me.

  Marison raises her hand to strike me, and I brace myself for her attack. Suddenly, the queen hisses, clenching her hand into a fist as she pulls it back.

  “You cannot touch her,” Brahm reminds his mother, the muscles in his jaw clenched as he continues to fight the guards. “You saw to that yourself when you agreed to the illanté tether.”

  Marison’s eyes narrow on me. Her nostrils flare, making her look mad.

  She whirls around to face her daughter. “Alice is not the only one you care about in this room.”