by A. K. Koonce
Sleep hasn’t come much in the night. The large bed, with its many blankets and covers still feels cold. Every noise is a new danger that makes my eyes flutter open only to stare at the door that never opens. It’s not particularly safe to sleep with a sharp dagger in the bed, but it feels safer than having to take the time to reach for it.
My eyes feel groggy, sleep begging my body to give in, but my mind keeps racing. I don’t want to think. I want just a moment to be numb and lost to the feelings that make my chest tight and my heart ache that much more. Maybe that’s too much to ask.
Sunlight filters through the purple windows casting the royal color across the room. The fire has long since turned to embers.
I roll to my stomach. Stretching, I point the knife at the still dangling handcuffs. With a flick of my wrist, the blade slips into the cuff. I let it drop with a quiet clank against the black rails. It’s a bewildering thought. Never in my years, or in the short time that I’d known Kai, would I suspect him to be that type of man. Now that I know it, I can totally see it. It’s always the quiet ones.
A brief knock sounds at the door. With a sharp inhale, I push myself up and turn to face the door, still under the covers. The dagger presses against the bed, the point of the blade poking a hole into the sheets underneath me. Damn it.
“Yes?” I call. My answer is pointless though as the door swings open at the exact moment Rowan breezes in followed by Kai.
“I told him not to barge in,” Kai sighs.
“I told my brother that you and I are on a first name basis and the pleasantries are unnecessary.” Rowan drops himself onto the sofa. He looks at the ashy fireplace with a frown. Snapping his fingers, a full flame fire roars inside the hearth casting its glow across the floor and onto his smudged boots.
“Good morning to you too.” I say, placing the dagger in my lap.
“See? She is still a lady.” Kai fiddles with the buttons of his silver suit. “Good morning, Briar.” He breathes, clearly exasperated by his brother, and gestures toward the still open door. “Breakfast?”
A thin boned servant girl, with thin straight hair hanging around her round face, tiptoes into the room holding a bed tray. Steam rolls off the food, fanning behind her like her own personal storm cloud. She takes careful steps down into the living space and then back up toward the bed. Kai follows her, frowning at Rowan as he passes.
As they reach the bedside the girl looks down at the knife in my lap then up to my face. She repeats the questioning look until Kai steps beside her with a tense smile.
“You won’t be needing that for breakfast.” He plucks the weapon from my hand and sets it against the bedside table, allowing the servant to set the bed tray across my lap before she darts away. “We have actual silverware for you to use that would be easier than cutting your eggs with a family heirloom.”
“It seems you have more than one brother eating out of the palm of your hand, Briar.” Rowan sings, picking at his nails.
I take a deep breath. The sweetest scents of the warm syrup covered pancakes assault my senses, accompanied by the perfectly savory and crispy bacon. There are no mortal girls to poison here. I shouldn’t worry about being poisoned, right?
Kai finally releases a long-held breath as I pick up a piece of bacon and begin absently chewing. My mind still twists and turns around the prospect of who, why, and how the mortal girls were being poisoned. Kai pulls his small vial of petals from his coat, offering one to me. I shake my head. He smiles softly, shaking a few leaves to his tongue before putting the container back into his pocket.
He is never short of his supply. I remember the fleeting moment, so smooth I hardly caught it, when Bellion slipped the prince his addiction. …the best herbologist in the realm... Could Bellion and his blind loyalty be behind it all? No one is more loyal, more catering to the queen’s whim than the tall billowy man.
My chewing slows as I process my own revelation. If that’s true, this food is safe. I pick up the fork and cut a chunk of pancake, shoving it into my mouth.
“You look angry.” Rowan sits forward.
“What?”
“You’ve got your eyes all narrowed.” Kai pitches in, propping himself on the edge of the bed frame.
I’m thankful neither of these men have a view into my mind or the front row seat to any of my thoughts. Instantly, my mind reaches for the tether between me and Lincoln. He’s there, quiet and reserved, his mental fingers no longer reaching into my thoughts so actively.
“Sorry, I’m just lost in thought.”
A drop of syrup drips from the fork, stuffed with yet another bite, and falls to my shirt. I’d slept in the clothes I had arrived in. My necklace, my power as Lincoln called it, still warm in my pocket.
“As my guest, everyone will expect for you to be… appropriately dressed. Humans typically are thrilled to wear gowns and otherwise much more proper attire…”
“I’m not your typical human.”
“No, you are not.” Rowan says.
Kai glances over his shoulder looking down at his brother who only stares back at me. “Be that as it may, I’ve arranged for Violet to take you down to our finest dress shops to pick up an assortment of gowns and whatever else you’d wish.”
Any smile I may have held falters at the idea of spending time with Violet.
“Don’t worry, I’ll tag along so that witchling sister of ours doesn’t eat you alive.” Rowan adds.
“How reassuring.” I look to Kai. “And you?”
“I will be here. Working for the morning.”
I bob my head. Kai pulls himself up from the bed heading for the door. Before he passes his brother, he stoops to whisper something in his ear. Rowan agrees with a halfhearted, “uh-huh” and a roll of his pretty golden eyes.
“I’ll fetch Violet.” Kai purses his lips at the door. “Please, do try to enjoy yourself today, Briar.”
Nothing in the Fae world is rushed or worried or overthought. In my mortal mind it is, though. How do I enjoy myself when I know the shadow queen is after me? She’s surely noticed my absence by now. My cousin is still in her court without a home. And the Fae I’ve relied on to protect me, the one I’ve developed these strangling, unwanted feelings for, is so far away. His mind feeling even more distant than that.
When the silence between us lingers, Kai finally steps out of the room. He pulls the door closed behind him. My eyes fall to my food that I eat to my fill. Rowan watching me without a word as I do.
My hands wrap around the handles of the tray to lift it from my lap so I may stand. Rowan waves a hand, the entire thing disappearing.
“Let me help with that.” He grins.
“Thanks.”
His gaze eats me up. Every inch of my skin is already sick of him watching me, though I know it could be worse. Why am I even boohooing about a handsome Fae man finding me attractive enough to dote on? Attractive enough to want to marry?
“Are you still decidedly set on wooing me?” I say with a calculated languidness. I think back on the blur of the night in the Lavender Lounge of the brief kiss we shared. While the Fae technically spark, us humans look for chemistry. Rowan and I… we have it… but not in the truly shocking, electrical way that Lincoln and I do. Rowan’s kisses don’t satisfy the longing need inside of me.
“I’m here aren’t I?” He shrugs. “I could be off fucking anyone else but instead I’m chasing after you. Seems like I might not be the only one either. But I don’t mind the competition. It’s healthy.”
“And do you see me as a prize?”
“Absolutely.”
Yeah, I fucking hate that.
I don’t take the time to respond as I press my feet into my boots. Before I move toward him, I take the time to slip the amulet into a small pot on top of the fireplace mantel. I pat it for good measure and a wish of safe keeping. There isn’t a need for me to reply to Rowan, now, as Violet sweeps into the room without bothering to knock as Rowan had.
“Don’t worry, m
y underdressed pet, I’m here to save you.” An emerald green dress wraps around her, tied with a shining satin ribbon. Her tiny feet are slipped into sparkling gold shoes. The heels don’t even click against the ground as she moves through the room. It’s like she swallows up sound and light.
“If we must.” Purposefully, I keep what distance I can between me and Lincoln’s sister. I wonder if she is a mirror of her mother’s cruel demeanor I’m often told about.
Her eyes narrow on the drop of syrup staining my t-shirt but she doesn’t say anything as she glides across the room and takes my hand. In one swift movement she pulls me forward from the bed and drags me as I clumsily follow. Rowan snickers behind us. Even with his echoed laugh I can sense him trail after us.
Outside of the room the halls are illuminated by the light of the day. I watch door after door pass only to wonder which one they’ll drag me through to portal me all the way to whatever shop meets their fancy.
I feel like a rag doll. Their plaything. Even if it’s all for my safety, I despise the way I feel like I’m just floating along. But what sort of coming into myself sort of story would it be if they didn’t whisk me away for some sort of makeover? I think bitterly.
Violet’s grip holds me with a surprising delicateness. She holds onto me until her unheard heels pause at the chosen door. We stop and I look around. This hall looks the same as the last and the one before it. I could get lost here so easily, and it’s only now that I realize that I don’t know how exactly we got here.
Twisting, I look back at Rowan as his sister reaches for the door. His attention is fixed much lower than I’d care for it to be. He meets my gaze with a knowing smirk and steps forward as Violet tugs me into the void. In the briefest of moments, I reach out to him. Not because I feel any need for his touch, or because I’m nervous it will be just Violet and I, though I am. Simply, it’s because I haven’t figured out how to land and with what I know of the Princess she isn’t likely to catch me or to care.
We fall. The three of us descend into the abyss of the portal, sinking like abandoned ships. Violet’s palm pulls away from mine and even in the darkness I can tell she’s grinning. Even as I lose the gentle touch she’d given me, I reach out hopeful.
Fingers graze up my forearm, holding me steady. As my head spins, I know the landing is coming. I dread embarrassing myself in front of Violet. Rowan won’t let that happen. The air between us is choked away and he brings me up to his body. Even through the many layers of clothes his muscles are apparent.
It’s enough, the moment long enough, I can close my eyes and pretend it’s Lincoln. As soon as his messy curls and deep-set dimples appear inside my head, Rowan stumbles forward, holding me. And Lincoln’s gone.
I crack my eyes open. Rowan tilts his head, letting me go slowly. Violet’s already strolling down a pathed walkway with racks of elaborate clothes set out that she’s examining with such scrutiny.
“I may not be able to read minds,” Rowan tracks after Violet. “but I can smell the difference in you when you think about Lincoln.”
“You can smell that?” Suddenly, I’m resisting the urge to lift my arm and take a whiff of my own armpit.
“Humans put off a lot of pheromones. You don’t consciously recognize it but we can.”
“Well, I really don’t like that.”
I frown at the scarf Violet holds looking between the material and myself. She plucks it off the hanger and drapes it over her torso so it covers her chest. Not a scarf, just a barely there top.
“It’d look better on me anyway.” She shrugs.
“What’s so great about Lincoln?” Rowan tries again.
“I don’t know. He’s kind, funny—though I’m not going to tell him. He’s loyal and loving. Protective but not suffocating.” He has a good dick. I think to myself. “Lincoln believes in me more than I believe in me.”
“I believe in you.”
“You believe in my status.” I snort.
“I believe in that ass too.” Rowan wiggles his brows.
“Exactly.” Violet rolls her eyes. “It’s comments like those that put women off.”
“They seem to work well enough when I’m taking them to bed.” Rowan points to a shop with its dangling sign. The dressmaker.
“Let’s make this very clear.” Violet strolls ahead pushing open the door to the shop. A bell rings inside. “Any woman, when she sleeps with you, made that decision long before you did.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, if you think women are always silky smooth and smell like cherry blossoms, then you’re an idiot.”
I catch a laugh in the palm of my hand as Violet responds. Rowan shrugs with indifference. He holds the door for me and waves me inside. The shop quickly reminds me of Cordelia’s dressmaker and our visit there, except more organized. Dresses are arranged by color across racks that line walls on either side. Within one color they are organized by sheer coverage, the first dresses being thongs that basically are held up by your shoulders instead of your hips, in my opinion.
An attendant sits behind a desk, he bows as we walk in. Other than the ring of the bell there is no ushering welcome or designer waiting to pin fabric to me while I stand uncomfortably as if I’ve never worn a dress before. It’s hardly meeting my minimum expectations for a movie like makeover.
“So what kind of dresses do you like?” Violet says. Her hands run down her curves as she watches herself in a large mirror. She hasn’t even turned to look at the dresses yet.
“I like as much coverage as I can get.” I take my time walking around her looking, but not touching the gowns along the wall.
“Boring!” Rowan huffs.
“Rowan is right, for once. Why don’t you want to show a little bit of skin?” She pauses her peruse through her own reflection long enough to look me head to toe. “You’re pretty enough.”
Pretty enough. I imagine that’s as close to a compliment as I’m going to get with Violet. And I’ll take it.
“I don’t know. I’m just not comfortable with it. Humans don’t typically walk around in lingerie ball gowns.”
The walls seem a little bit closer than they had just moments ago. The dresses multiplying every time I look.
“Human’s don’t blah blah blah. You’re in the Fae realms now, Briar.” Rowan pulls a navy blue gown with a plunge that reaches for the navel and two strips of fabric that are supposed to act as the skirt and somehow cover up my lady bits. “We’re buying this.
I wince as he walks by me to drape the gown over the counter.
“You don’t even know my size.” I point out.
Violet laughs. “Honey, we don’t need your size.”
Right. Magic.
“What about, like, a pant suit?”
Both the Fae that brought me here and the attendant frown at me. Is that human term? Have I offended them?
“You want to wear a suit like a man?” Violet asks slowly.
“No. Not exactly. There are feminine pant suits…” But even as I say it, I’m aware it’s all a lost cause. Their brows are already wrinkled with confusion and outright surprise.
“Let’s try this on.” Violet devilishly grins.
I’m shaking my head no at the strips of fabric that I can’t imagine won’t get tangled when I try to slip them onto my body and the sheer fabric that hangs over them when she snaps her fingers. My body jars. The clothing I’d worn here pulls from my body turning to dust in the air. Underneath it the dress is already fitted to my curves. One thick strap runs over my nipples, many smaller ones spider webbing to make up the remainder of the bra. I clutch my thighs together. A small piece of material runs between my legs. I’m about to have a lip slip. Bands wrap around my hips holding it all in place underneath a sheer dark plum coverup that hugs my chest and peplums at my waist, with a skirt that stops mid-thigh.
A squeak admits from my gaping mouth. My arms wrap around me, trying to hold my body in. Violet gives me an unapologetic smirk.
> “No, no, no.” She clicks her tongue. “Move your hands.” Her thin fingers pry my grip from my body as she steers me toward the mirror. “You should work on your confidence. You look so much better now. In fact, you’re wearing this home.”
“That’s hardly necessary.” I wheeze. “I am confident.”
“Then you won’t mind wearing this out.” Violet stiffens, turning back to look through the racks.
I chance a glance at Rowan. His arms hold a heap of outfits, each one as revealing as the next. Moisture shines on his lips, following the slip of his tongue. He stares so concentratedly at me that it feels as if he is seeing into my soul, or trying to.
You look… edible. Lincoln’s deep husky voice enters my mind in an abrupt startling way.
I jump, turning back to the mirror. Gently, I run my hands over the thin fabric.
Can you see me?
I can see you, how you see you, through your eyes.
I can tell Lincoln’s distracted, hardly available for our conversation, barely connected to the moment. My palms get sweaty with a new, odd sort of nervousness.
I haven’t heard from you today. It’s the less clingy dramatic version of ‘I miss you.’ Hours feel like days, almost weeks, when I’m so used to his commentary inside my head. With a deep breath, I try to take myself in as everyone else sees me. I’ve never thought myself ugly. You’d think with the number of people telling me that I’m endlessly beautiful I’d have a big head. It’s just I’m so… naked.
Busy. Just stopping in to suggest that you tell Rowan to shut his mouth and find something else to look at.
A humming laugh vibrates my chest. I move stiffly, worried the bands of material will slip in either an unflattering way or full out expose me.
“Rowan,” I clear my throat, giving him some time to bring his attention up to my face. “Lincoln seems to think that you should close your mouth and find yourself occupied with something other than my ass.”
Couldn’t have said it better myself.
“Isn’t he busy running errands for Cordelia?” Rowan purses his lips but turns on the heel of his boot.
