He was in pain, he was sexy, and I knew the fae queen wanted an alliance with witches who were willing to marry faeries. I had the key to saving his life. So I made this bargain. Let it never be said that Daisy Pendleton let a sexy-ass man die on her watch.
“You do need to rest,” I murmured, seeing the burn marks on his wrists when his movements drew his sleeves up higher on his muscular arms. “These look bad…” Dots of blood spotted his shirt in places where the wounds had opened a little, despite our efforts to heal him.
“Bah,” he said. “I really do hate being tortured.”
“Everyone does.”
“But I’ve had worse.”
“So you don’t mind that you’re going to have to share your wife with some pompous lord?” I asked, crossing my arms. “What is this other man going to say about your home and your….cows?” Trying to have a conversation with Orson really drove home the fact that I literally knew nothing about him except that he had a sexy accent, gorgeous eyes, and he was ripped. Hmm. Even contestants on the Bachelor were more informed than me. I didn’t even know if Orson had a house. For all I knew he slept in a pile of hay. “I chose you,” I said. “Not anyone else.”
“You chose me, eh? A perfect stranger?”
“I’d seen enough,” I said, raking him with my eyes.
“I’m used to the arrangement,” he said. “The low faery lords often do swear fealty to a high faery lord. They act as a…” He snapped his fingers, like he’d been searching for a word I might understand. “Sponsor. In court. And our country lands send them food and wool, fools and wood, as they say. My sponsor was Lord Liorgan—that is, Stuart—and now that he’s passed on, I shall need a new one, alas for me. Stuart was a good friend, but he told me his intent to sacrifice himself, so what was I to say?”
“Maybe don’t?” I couldn’t imagine that if my friend told me they intended to sacrifice themselves I’d be like, oh okay. But faeries had a weird sense of honor. “You seem cheerful enough about this other man horning in.” My arms remained crossed. My neck relaxed into a tilt. Some girls have resting bitch face but I think I had developed resting bitch neck. “I get it. Exchanging contacts for goods. Sure. That makes sense. Sharing your wife? Not so much.”
“It’s not uncommon in the magical world. You surely know that; aye, but I know you do. Your friend Charlotte had how many lads flocked around her?”
“It’s common among people who already know each other! That’s why it’s called ‘bond-brothers’ and ‘clans’ and such! Not just letting your future wife be subjected to whatever this is going to be.”
His hand cupped my face. It was dry and warm even though his brow was sweating.
This was the first time he had ever really looked at me. Or vice versa. It was intimate and I realized I wasn’t used to that at all.
“You need rest,” I said. “Let’s get you to the healing baths or whatever.”
“Lass, who do you trust in this world?”
“Trust? What does that have to do with anything?”
“I asked you a question, and it has everything to do with everything. You must learn to trust if you’re to thrive here.”
The reason I’d agreed to this crazy idea was because there was something about Orson that made me like him, and I didn’t feel that way very often. Not at all. I searched his face now. His eyes were greenish, although their color was not quite settled. Having been captured for a while, his wild black hair and beard and eyebrows were all a mess. He had a strong nose. My grandmother would not like me producing kids with a man like this. She liked everything to look refined and clean. But what I liked about Orson was that he looked like he could protect me. He seemed strong enough to scoop me up like a baby. Nah, forget that, he could probably carry me in his hands.
Just thinking about those big arms around me and hopefully a big something inside me and oh damn, I did not have time for this level of hot and bothered. I had never been with a man before, but it wasn’t for lack of wanting it.
And yet, there was something in his eyes that didn’t match his words. Something guarded. I knew what guarded looked like. Why hadn’t I seen it before? What was he hiding from me?
“You won’t be matched according to what power you have, what money you have, or anything of that nature. You’ll be chosen because of intuition. The lord who chooses to be with you—with us, in fact—will choose us for a reason. He’ll choose you because you suit him, and the fates shall agree.”
“And what about me?”
“You’ll surely agree as well—or your life will be long and miserable, won’t it?” His hand slipped away from my skin, leaving a tingle in its wake, and I straightened up.
Who do you trust in this world?
What did it say about me that not a single person sprung to mind?
Chapter
Daisy
Oh well. Onto one of my favorite subjects: clothes. I needed to know what the situation was around here, because I was used to having a world of designer clothing available. If there was one thing my grandmother and I agreed on, it was dressing to impress, stun, or kill.
When Grandmother was young, she was hawt, I mean, like most witches she lived a long time so she was a teenager in the 1940s and a young married in the 1950s and she had hats, gloves, leather bags, heels, perfume in deco bottles, furs, cigarette holders and cases, brushes with ivory handles…
I don’t know how many different animals died for her wardrobe. I tried not to think about that part, because I like animals, but let’s just say a lot. I’m sure they were all blessed and thanked for their sacrifice, at least. Witches knew you have to thank the land if you want to keep taking stuff from it.
When I was growing up, she had a dressing room with all that stuff still in it, the old hat boxes and everything, and she still wore them. Witch fashion changed very slowly. Circe’s Monthly, the oldest witch’s magazine, still had spreads where young women wore hats with feathers, gloves, and never ever pants, all designed by old magical fashion houses in Europe, so that was Grandmother. She never went out without her hat and a dress. The dresses were the one thing where I was old-fashioned too. I almost never wore pants. Like, I knooow. “Pants are very practical, Daisy!” That’s why I didn’t like them. I prefer looking impractical at all times, like I need a manservant to pick things up for me.
In this regard, I think the faeries and me were gonna get on fine.
Lady Melis took me down a narrow boardwalk path through the fenland (her words, not mine, I would have called it a swamp but I guess that wasn’t very poetic). The boardwalk had wooden railings carved from beautiful wood that curved in natural angles and felt soft and smooth under my hands, practically begging me to slide my fingers along them as we walked. Under the boardwalk, the water was thick with aquatic flowers and unusual plants.
“The other humans are already getting dressed,” she said, “while Queen Morgana met with you.”
“We prefer to be called witches,” I said. “Not humans. Humans don’t have magic.”
“The other witches, then,” she said graciously, but it was a grace that humored me. So far the faeries were not very friendly, which is what I expected. “I apologize that the conditions here are humble. This is Queen Morgana’s winter retreat where she likes to relax away from the court and she can swim through the cold season.”
“You’re the water faeries, hmm?” I said. Lady Melis, like Queen Morgana, had webbed hands.
“Yes, Queen Morgana is of the House of Coral, one of the great water faery clans. I am of the House of Mangrove and the winter palace is here in my own families’ lands. But there are many other houses and the thirteen most powerful with unmarried sons will be choosing from you and the other witches. I don’t envy their choice…”
That was definitely a swipe at my girls, as she showed me into the dressmaker’s hut.
It was a small two-story cottage resting on stilts, accessed by the watery paths. It was constructed from wood that had turne
d gray and weathered, and it had a roof that overhang the building with vines and moss growing over everything. The windows were numerous and some of them were round like portholes, and tilted open. I gotta be honest, it looked pretty ramshackle, like the whole thing could collapse into the swamp.
I could already hear the other girls chattering through the windows. Lady Melis opened the door and I was greeted by a flurry of laughter, fabrics and girls messing with their hair and accessories. All of them wore beautiful gowns, although the styles varied from light and frilly to dark and dramatic. I assumed the dressmaker was the very short, squat, elderly fae woman with blue frilled fins around her face like a collar. She immediately hurried over to me.
“Lady Daisy! You’re the last one, then! I’m the dressmaker, Yami. Let’s get you into something! Hurry up, it’s almost time for dinner and I don’t want you to keep Queen Morgana waiting. The ready-made gowns are all around you, so please choose whatever you like.”
They all paused and looked at me expectantly.
There were my twelve fellow faery brides. I had recruited them all at the Haven in order to fulfill the contract with Queen Morgana to save my own ass, and they were not a very choice lot if I’m being honest. Who do you think signs on to leave their home and family forever and marry a man they’ve never met?
Some messed up bitches, that’s who.
I didn’t remember half their names.
Worse, I had lied to a lot of them and told them about all this cool stuff that would happen in the faery realm, when I didn’t actually know the first thing about life here. Luckily, they all seemed pretty happy with the clothes, and the glasses of sparkling wine they were drinking probably didn’t hurt either. Maybe it wasn’t a lie so much as a prophecy. Yeah.
“Do any of them appeal to you, Daisy?” Polly asked.
“Give a girl a minute to actually look,” I said.
Polly was a gator shifter. She had a sturdy brow, sharp teeth, and her body was big boned and squarish. She looked ready for a street brawl, except that her personality was completely at odds. She wore her hair in a soft bun with a few curls escaping and a hair ornament made of tiny pearls, and I wasn’t surprised that she had chosen a long, sort of cutesy dress made of white cotton and lace with silk flower trimmings. Polly was a Jane Austen fan girl. You would learn that if you talked to her for two minutes. Jane Austen novels were very popular with hedge/cottage/kitchen witch types. That class of witches were everyone’s favorite kind, with all the feminine virtues down to a tee.
“Be careful which you choose,” Rowena said, with a slow smile.
“Why?”
“Every gown has meaning.”
I reached for a rack of fabrics, enjoying the caress of silk, fine cotton, wool and linen on my skin. They were all gorgeous but most of them were definitely not my style.
“Daisy, I thought we were going to throw off the shackles of conformity here,” Lucinda said. “You told me that faery life is free but now I am being told that faery noblemen are going to make their choices among us and we’re going to be trained to be faery ladies. Trained. Like dogs. This is not the sort of life that is good for my spirit or mental health.”
“Well, I’m in the same boat, so just chill,” I said. “I thought I was going to marry Lord Orson and now I just found out that one of these high lords is going to get to pick me too, so none of us are getting exactly what we want, but it’s better than wizard prison, right?”
“I don’t know. I was not some man’s object at the Haven.”
“Girl, they murder people at the Haven, and if you really think that’s better than getting married, I don’t know what to tell you. I don’t think the faery men like us either so fair’s fair. This is what’s called a strategic agreement.”
Yeah, so in contrast to Polly were Lucinda and Rowena.
Witch society was pretty strict, so a lot of the witches at the Haven were rebellious types that I guess roused too much rabble at some point.
Lucinda described herself as a ‘non-conformist’ when I met her. Have you ever met a person who describes themselves that way who is also fun? Yeah, exactly. Lucinda went by the name ‘Persona’, which was just like, ugh. Was she a girl or a bad college poem? She was tall and slender, dark-skinned with wild curly black hair, probably mixed race like me and many other American witches. She had chosen a shapeless gown with one sleeve, made out of what looked like hemp cloth, but she had one of those gazelle bodies that looked good in a sack.
Rowena was a Bathorite. You might have heard of the Countess of Bathory, the Hungarian noblewoman who tortured and murdered young women and supposedly bathed in their blood? Anyway. That really happened, and Elizabeth Bathory was a normal human, but sometimes normal humans could become witches, and there was some evidence in the witching community that the Countess of Bathory became a murderess in order to learn blood magic. No good witch wanted to be associated with such a person, but a certain group of witches admired her moxie, and the Bathorites were born, fueled by rumors that maybe the Countess became a vampire or an immortal witch and was still alive today, and that she was in fact a heroine for defying the bonds of her human life and the patriarchy and councils that say witches shouldn’t do blood magic.
That’s kinda cool. I get it.
But yo, they’re just a straight up cult. Rowena had chosen a long, dark gown with tight black sleeves that ended in points, and a skirt of fluttering dark green leaves, and a headdress made from tree branches and crow feathers that her vivid red hair was wrapped around. She also looked beautiful, in a goth way.
So some faery man was probably in for a surprise when those two started talking, but there wasn’t much I could do about it.
“The dressing room is there,” Dressmaker Yami said, pointing to a curtain, fidgeting with impatience. “Queen Morgana will be waiting.”
“I gotcha, I gotcha.” I had selected a few that were okay off the racks and then I saw it. The gown for me.
It was bright pink with frilled hems at the bottom that looked like they were dipped in gold, but the collar was the real showpiece. It was like huge flower petals that stood up behind the strapless gown. My boobs and face were going to be like Thumbelina being born out of a damn flower.
“Oh my god, that is hideous,” said my nemesis, Erin the wolf girl.
“Sorry I’m not basic.” I went into the dressing room and hurried the dress on, because I was a tiny bit worried about wanting Queen Morgana to like me, even though I wouldn’t admit it. This was all pretty overwhelming if I started to think about it. It would have been easier to just shrink away and see what happened, but Pendleton women do not ever shrink away.
The dress was boned in the bodice, it made my boobs look amazing, it was extremely uncomfortable, and there was no way I could reach the hook and eye clasps.
“Cash!” I whispered over the loud conversation about my choice of dress going on beyond the curtain.
My cat familiar appeared right away. He looked at the gown. He saw me trying to reach the clasps. He changed into a human. He sighed.
He walked behind me and flicked his finger at the huge, stiff fabric petals. “Insanity,” he whispered. “Complete insanity.” He did up all the hooks and then he grabbed the fabric around my boobs and yanked on something and twisted something else, and suddenly it wasn’t nearly as uncomfortable.
“Good luck,” he said.
Then he vanished.
I let out my breath. I couldn’t let any of the witches see him. I would never live that down. But—okay—there was one person I completely trusted, if I counted him as a person.
I stepped out of the dressing room. Erin snickered while some of the other girls looked in awe. I looked either stunning or ridiculous. It was a fine line, but walking it was one of the best ways to assert your dominance over other witches. Nothing says Don’t cross me like wearing something no one but you would dare to wear.
“I’m ready,” I said casually.
“Interesting
choice,” Yami said.
I shrugged, selecting a few gold bracelets from a wall of accessories.
“The gowns you choose will send a message about your alliances here.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Gowns are like flowers, meant to attract certain bees,” she said. “Wearing a gown like that, you will certainly attract men from...a strong house. Well, it will be interesting to see how all of you fare here. Let us head to dinner. I’m sure we are late!”
Available now!
More Romantic Fantasy from Lidiya!
A Witch Among Warlocks
Prequel: The Wild-Eyed Boys
Book One: The Fairer Hex
Book Two: Boys Over Powers
Book Three: A Fine Necromance
Book Four: Battle of the Hexes
Available in audio!
Finishing School for Faery Brides
Book One: Fae Sworn
Book One: Fae Tempted
Book Three: Fae Bound
Forever in Their Thrall
Book One: Take Me Slowly
Book Two: Love Me Madly
Book Three: Kill Me Softly
Paranormal House Flippers
Book One: Demons in the Bedroom
Book Two: Wolves at the Door
Book Three: Phantom of the Library
The Sky and Shadow saga, a reverse harem fantasy with epic world building, dragon shifters, and steam:
Guardians of Sky and Shadow
Complete Series Box Set
Available in audio!
Kingdoms of Sky and Shadow
Complete Series Box Set
Brides of the Sinistral Realms
(Reverse harem paranormal romance)
Book One: Tempted by Demons
Book Two: Captured by Dragons
Book Three: Guarded by Wolves (Coming soon!)
Fairy Tale Heat
Wolves at the Door Page 20
