After I’d refused him, Liri had smiled.
“Perhaps after you’ve returned home for a spell you will find you miss Faerie. Perhaps we will meet again, my pet, and you will reconsider my offer. You may find yourself wishing to return sooner than you’d imagine.”
It had taken all of my willpower not to visibly shudder. I knew exactly the kind of mate Liri desired—not a Fae who could match his powers, but a pet, as he called me, to satisfy his needs and obey.
I’d escaped one brother. I wouldn’t sacrifice myself to the next one—not if I had any say in the matter, which I did. For now.
Let Liri think I might reconsider, so long as it got me back home.
The Fae arrogantly believed their realm was the best one of all and couldn’t imagine why anyone would live anywhere else unless they had no other choice.
All I wanted was to return home and never step foot in Faerie or see Liri’s smug face again.
“Can I go home now?” I’d asked, squaring my shoulders.
Liri had given me a tight nod.
“Whatever you wish, Aerith.”
I wished I’d never been forced to marry for my father’s convenience. And yet, after everything, after my absence—my sacrifice—Father was about to insist I do it all over again.
CHAPTER THREE
The grounds of my family’s new estate were as big as the entire neighborhood I’d grown up in. Manicured shrubs lined the cobblestone drive leading up to a two-story manor home that rose up from the grounds like a mountain range, spreading to either side of the property.
Cirrus had honored his promise and paid my father well. But instead of being cautious, Father had sold our home in Pinemist and purchased this monstrosity in Sweetbell.
When it came time for me to return home, I found myself on unfamiliar ground, feeling even more like an outsider than when I left.
Saturday eve, laughter and music filled the grand parlor, shaking the chandeliers from the high ceiling. A pianist played lively music from the pianoforte while finely dressed elves clustered in small groups. Shalendra had three admirers vying for her attention beside the bay windows. She wore a new purple velvet gown and black onyx beads at her throat.
I had not seen any signs of her emerald pendant, the one from Mother, since returning to the elven realm three months ago. Nor had I seen Jhaeros. He’d been cast off from what Mel had told me. Maybe if he hadn’t been such a prick, I would have felt sympathy for him.
I stood near the pianoforte where it was loudest and most difficult for any of our present company to approach and make conversation.
Aside from my sister’s three admirers, there were five “eligible males,” as my father called them, from the richest families in Sweetbell. They stole glances my way. My time in Faerie had heightened my previously lackluster looks. Plentiful palace meals had filled out my figure. The dark half-circles beneath my eyes had completely disappeared, and my blonde hair had taken on a golden shine that followed me back to the elven realm.
Liri had sent me home with the lavish wardrobe and jewelry I’d acquired during my fifteen months in Dahlquist.
Tonight, I wore a beaded nude gown with light blue, pink, and maroon embroidered florals. A maroon satin ribbon circled my waist, tied in a thin bow, and the gown pooled at my feet where the skirt flared over the intricately woven rugs of the parlor.
I stood poised, taking in the scene around me while listening to the music, which Melarue had wanted to dance to earlier, until Father snapped at her to “behave like a lady.” Remembering Mel’s pout brought a small smile to my lips. Mel was now in her seventeenth year and still a spitfire, despite being dressed up in a ruffled white gown—which she kept tugging at.
Fifteen months ago, I wouldn’t have been able to stand still without fidgeting either. I would have fought not to clutch my stomach or tremble any time a male approached. But as a princess of Dahlquist, I’d learned poise and grace—much to my father’s delight since the purpose of tonight’s social gathering was to auction me off.
While Cirrus had compensated Father generously, my mate’s death marked the end of the monthly stipend. If Father had remained in Pinemist, there would have been enough funds to last several lifetimes, but the estate in Sweetbell cost a king’s ransom to maintain.
“Yes, yes, the air of a goddess, to be sure,” I overheard my father saying eagerly to an elderly elf couple and their highbrow grandson who flicked his eyes my way with an assessing expression. “Chosen by a Fae prince for her otherworldly beauty and grace,” Father continued.
I nearly snorted.
Sure, that was why Cirrus had chosen me—nothing to do with my arrows and direct aim. I met the male’s stare, held it long enough not to appear too demure, but brief enough not be perceived as willfulness.
It wasn’t simply poise that kept me still, but an alert attentiveness Cirrus had counted on for his survival against a family plotting for the crown.
One of my sister’s admirers waved over a footman carrying a silver tray with bubbling champagne flutes. She and her merry posse grabbed glasses and tipped them back, cheeks reddening with each swallow.
Nobody in this crowd was plotting murder, but marrying any one of these pompous fools would be the end of me.
The moment I saw an opening to slip out unnoticed, I took it—moving swiftly past the gathered groups like a passing breeze. There in a fleeting second, then gone the next.
I allowed a rare smile to lift up my lips in the hallway, impressed by my own disappearing act given I’d been an object on display and was well aware of how stunning I appeared in the sheer embroidered-and-beaded gown. The garment was gorgeous enough to hang on the wall as art.
I lifted the skirt off the floor to avoid snagging. As I passed the empty sitting room, I cast a longing look at the beautiful campaigne board with its pewter and bronze game pieces set up on a polished round table. I’d never cared for the game growing up—I’d never had time for such idle pursuits—but in Dahlquist I’d found myself with few friends and plenty of leisure time. Campaigne had been the only familiar thing from my world and I’d spend untold hours mastering the game—often stuck playing against myself. I doubted even Jhaeros could best me. The thought of beating the arrogant elf at his favorite game brought another smile to my lips.
I hurried my steps to the back of the estate. Escaping the parlor unnoticed was one thing, being missed for much longer was another. Once I reached the French doors, I propelled myself outside into the dark courtyard and breathed in the fresh, balmy air.
Lanterns glowed at my feet. The darkness above blanketed me.
How soon until Father tracked me down? Dragged me back inside? Forced me into the arms of some highfalutin elf?
I pictured the assessing brown eyes of the elf in coattails who’d looked me over in the parlor.
I couldn’t decide which was worse, being stuck beneath Father’s roof or with a mate by arrangement.
I looked into the stars overhead, searching for an escape. I hadn’t belonged in Faerie, and I certainly didn’t belong in Sweetbell. As I stared into Sky Mother’s boundless depths, a blinding white light split apart the darkness directly above my head. I shielded my eyes, but it only glowed brighter before contracting and solidifying into a brilliant sliver of parchment. It fluttered down from the sky, landing in my hands. My chin lowered as I gaped at the silvery parchment. Before I could read what it said, plump fingers snatched it away.
“What is this?” Shalendra demanded.
I whipped around, fingers balling into fists, ready to strike. Old habit. Father stood behind me, arms folded, a deep frown on his lips. Beside him, Shalendra looked over the silver parchment, flipping it over to examine the back. I gritted my teeth, frustrated they’d managed to sneak up on me. If it hadn’t been for the flash of light, I would have noticed my family closing in.
I uncurled my fingers and flung my palm out in front of Shalendra. “Give it back,” I said in a low warning voice.
; “What is it?” Father asked.
“An invitation to The Monster Ball,” Shalendra screeched. “Do you know how rare it is to get one of these? How come Aerith was invited?” Shalendra’s lower lip pouted.
I snatched the parchment from my sister, nearly ripping it as I did. One side of the invitation had “The Monster Ball” written in elegant calligraphy. My Father inched his way closer as I turned the invitation over and read the back side.
Just as the moon has brought me to you, so shall the moon bring you to the ball.
October 31st
The Witching Hour
I squinted then lifted the invitation closer to my eyes to read a second and a third time.
“It’s because that Fae prince made her a princess, isn’t it?” Shalendra asked, still pouting.
“That Fae prince” had made sure she lived in luxury, yet my sister wouldn’t even say his name.
“You mean your brother-in-law—Cirrus?” I said, unable to hold my tongue.
Shalendra wrinkled her nose as though a royal prince of Faerie was beneath her.
Father rubbed his hands together and beamed. “This is excellent news!”
“How so?” Shalendra cocked her head to one side.
“I’ve heard tell that those lucky enough to receive a ticket to The Monster Ball are royalty from all of the different realms: princes and princesses; even kings and queens. Supernaturals with powers and riches beyond anything we could imagine.” Father’s eyes practically glowed.
Shalendra turned up her nose and tossed her hair back. “And I’ve heard it attracts the unsavory sort—wicked creatures who would kill to get their claws on one of those invites.” Shalendra looked at the silver parchment in my hands and took a step backward.
I rolled my eyes. “I survived Faerie. I can certainly make it through a ball—no matter what kinds of creatures are in attendance.”
“Very good, my dear,” Father said, bobbing his head. “You will be the belle of the ball, and by the end you will have found yourself a new mate.”
I lowered my arms and glared at my father.
“I don’t want a new mate,” I said between clenched teeth.
“At least this time you get to do the choosing,” Shalendra piped in, daring to step closer to me and my cursed silver ticket. “Maybe you’ll meet a wealthy gargoyle prince, or a shifter, or even another Fae.”
My body froze at that. What if Liri had been invited? Or worse, what if he’d arranged for my invitation? He had talked about meeting again. Somehow, I doubted he’d take “no” for an answer twice.
I shook my head.
“I’m not going.”
Father’s whole body jerked and his eyes narrowed to slivers nearly as thin as the parchment pinched between my fingers.
“You do not turn down an invitation to The Monster Ball.”
“Shalendra can go in my stead.”
Father sighed with aggravation. “Yet again you disappoint me, Aerith. Have you no sense of honor?”
My heart tightened, beating against my ribs like a fist—striking out again and again.
“Have you no shame, Father?” I fired back.
Father could plan and plot all he wanted. I’d already sacrificed myself once. I wouldn’t do it again.
Father tsked and shook his head. “Faerie changed you, my dear, and not for the better.”
“Whose fault is that?” I asked.
Shalendra gasped. “What’s gotten into you, Aerith? How can you speak to Father that way when he’s already been through so much—losing his mate, then scraping by to keep a roof over our heads? Now we could lose our home again because your mate up and died and you’re refusing to consider a new one. It’s not like you’re in mourning or anything. I doubt you shed one tear for poor Cirrus.”
Oh, so now she could say his name.
Shalendra moved to Father’s side and looped her arm around his, giving him a gentle squeeze.
My stomach heaved. It was a good thing I hadn’t eaten any of the stuffed mushrooms or mini pear tartlets being offered from trays in the parlor.
“There, there, darling,” Father said, patting Shalendra’s arm. “If Aerith won’t go, I’m sure Melarue would jump at the chance to attend such an illustrious gathering. She has complained about feeling bored in Sweetbell.”
Shalendra rolled her eyes. “She’s too wild for her own good. She’d probably end up marrying a goblin just for the novelty of it.”
Molten heat seared through my veins, causing spots to form over my vision. I crushed the ticket in my hand.
“You cannot send Melarue to the ball. She’s only just turned seventeen.”
Father huffed. “She’s old enough now and unlike you, Mel has a sense of adventure.”
I put my hands on my hips. “So, you would throw her to the wolves?”
Father lifted his nose. “I have no doubt Mel could hold her own.”
“Well, you can forget about sending her. It’s my ticket to do with as I please.” I moved toward a lantern as quickly as my fitted gown allowed and fed the silver parchment to the flame.
“No!” Shalendra screeched, eyes expanding in her face. She pulled away from Father and reached out a hand as though she had the power to call the ticket back.
Tiny bright sparks erupted from the parchment like a sparkler on solstice.
My smile of satisfaction was interrupted by a flash of light overhead.
No. No. No.
As with the first time, the light dispersed and a silver ticket fluttered down in front of me. I snatched it from the air as it floated past my neck and stared at the parchment in disbelief. The familiar calligraphy felt like a summons.
Father puffed out his chest. “Looks like it’s settled, Aerith. You’re attending The Monster Ball.”
CHAPTER FOUR
On the eve of the ball, Shalendra’s maid, Penelo, helped me get ready. I’d let Mel select my dress—a yellow ball gown with a sleeveless corset top.
“In case you find yourself lost in the dark amongst monsters,” Mel had said. “Remember you are sunshine.”
Tears had glistened over my eyes.
And then Mel had added, “And you’ll burn anyone who bothers you to a crisp.”
The burst of laughter that erupted from my lips had felt good.
Now I sat fidgeting on a low-backed cushioned chair while Penelo finished arranging my blonde locks into a soft bun with wispy strands framing my face. Next, she brushed golden shimmer over my eyelids and applied dark liner that made the blues of my irises pop.
Mel sat on the edge of my bed holding still for once as she watched every step of my makeover. Thankfully Father and Shalendra knew to stay away.
“What kinds of shapeshifters do you think you’ll meet?” she asked.
I held my youngest sister’s gaze in the mirror and shrugged.
Penelo hissed as the movement nearly bumped her arm while she held a mascara wand in front of my left eye.
“Sorry,” I muttered to Penelo before glancing back at Mel. “I don’t know. I doubt they’d shift at the ball.”
“So, they’ll look human the entire time?” Mel’s head drooped in disappointment.
I chuckled. Mel sighed then perked up a heartbeat later. The mirror reflected her head as it lifted and her eyes widened on mine.
“If I was a shifter, I’d want to be a raven so I could fly. No, no, wait. I’d want to be a jaguar so I could run really fast and roar at the stupid elves who call me Butternut.”
I jerked out of the chair and spun around, hands on my hips, ignoring Penelo’s sharp intake of breath as she pulled the mascara wand away just in time to avoid marking the yellow fabric on my gown.
“Who calls you Butternut?” I demanded.
Mel pressed her lips together and shrugged. She ran her fingers over the silk comforter on my four-poster bed, studying her hands closely as she stroked the smooth fabric.
“Well, whoever they are, they’re all a bunch of pit heads,” I stated.
Mel snorted and looked up at me with a grin. Her face fell a second later.
“Aerith,” she started softly, stopping to stare into her lap.
“What is it?” I asked, sweeping over to her side.
When Mel looked up, tears glistened in her eyes.
“Are you going to find a mate and leave me again?”
“Absolutely not,” I said, shaking my head vehemently. Penelo sighed, but my updo held. She’d pinned it well.
Penelo began putting away my hair combs and makeup. I glanced her way and cleared my throat.
“That will be all for now, Penelo. Thank you for your assistance.”
She looked up and frowned. I raised my eyebrows and watched her until she’d shuffled out of my room. I was sure she would have liked to stay and eavesdrop so she could report to Shalendra later. I closed the door behind Penelo and returned to Mel’s side, taking her soft hands into mine.
“I am not attending the ball to look for a mate.” I glanced at the door and lowered my voice. “Maybe I’ll meet a high elf looking to expand his royal guard.”
It was a coveted position that welcomed females and included a generous stipend and comfortable accommodations. With my aim, a high elf might consider me—so long as he or she didn’t learn of how I’d failed my deceased mate.
“A royal guard?” Mel wrinkled her nose. “But you are royalty.”
I glanced at my reflection in the mirror. I certainly looked like it. I’d learned to sit up tall and proud at the palace in Dahlquist. Holding my head high had become second nature, as natural as breathing.
“Not really, and no one needs to know that,” I said dismissively.
Title aside, I’d been more bodyguard than bride, which is why I should fit right in as one of the archers of a royal guard.
Mel frowned.
“I don’t want you to go off as part of a royal guard either. Can’t you sell off your jewels and gowns? We did it before and got by. And you have much finer things now,” Mel added. “We could buy a cottage back in Pinemist. I could grow our vegetables.”
Stolen Princess Page 3
