A Cage of Moonlight (Dark Fae Academy Book 1)

by Jenna Wolfhart

  “This is perfect,” Bree said with a smile, sighing one more time as she scanned the room.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she caught the Lord staring at her. With a slight hitch in her breath, she cast a sideways glance his way. In the dark moonlit room, he looked far different than he normally did. There was something much softer about his appearance, as if a mask had fallen away to reveal the true male underneath. His dark eyes gleamed, flecks of gold lit up like beams of light shining from within. His golden hair curled around his pointed ears, the soft strands brushing against the back of his neck.

  “What are you doing?” Bree whispered, though she didn’t entirely know what she was asking. He was just standing there, after all.

  “I was only thinking that this room suits you.” A pause. “You have never looked more alive here than you do in this moment. And that includes the moment you were forced to dance in front of us all.”

  Bree frowned at the memory. “Don’t lie. You probably loved seeing me humiliated in front of everyone. And then shot by order of the future King.”

  He arched an eyebrow. “I have heard that rumor as well. You truly think the Prince ordered that shot?”

  “He admitted to it.” A bitter taste filled her mouth as she remembered the look of disdain on Taveon’s face when he’d told her exactly what he’d done.

  “No wonder you are willing to spy for me.” Dagen shifted toward her, and his large shoulder blocked out the firelight behind him. “I did wonder if you were merely attempting to play me at my own game, but I see now that you are sincere in this. I am sorry I doubted you. This room is yours, for as long as you stay here at the castle.”

  “The rest of my life then,” Bree said with a frown.

  Dagen paused but then he stepped closer. “Now, I have given you your room. What is the information you have learned?”

  “Taveon said he’s going to name Conlan or Branok as his Hand. He wrote you off because...well, he doesn’t like you. And Rafe’s not on the short list because he’s not a political fae or whatever.” Bree shrugged. “I’m sorry it’s not a more exciting answer. It was pretty much what I expected him to say, don’t you think?”

  “Indeed.” Dagen let out a sigh. “Well, a deal is a deal. You now have better quarters. Perhaps you will grow to love this place and the fae within it.”

  “This place is an eyesore,” Bree said. “And the fae within it have been nothing but cruel to me. Except Rafe.”

  “And he is the only fae to have been kind to you?” Dagen arched an eyebrow. “No one else in the entirety of this castle?”

  “No one else. So you can see why I’m not exactly crazy about calling this place my forever home.”

  Dagen’s face clouded over, and he turned away. “I see. Well, enjoy your new quarters. I will get your belongings from the cell sent here. Send word when you have more information to share with me.”

  Chapter 18

  Bree

  Prince Taveon stormed into Bree’s room while she still had her skin soaking in the soothing water of the bathtub. She’d found a bathroom in a door just off from her bedroom and had gone straight in after Lord Dagen had left. And then the Prince came looking for her. When he didn’t find her in the bedroom, he threw open the bathroom door and pushed inside without a moment’s hesitation. His entire face was a worrying shade of red, and his hands were trembling as he stared down at her.

  He swallowed hard, eyes flicking across the bubbles that hid most of her body from view. But the sight of her was still enough to cause him to stammer out his first words, softening the blow of his anger.

  “Did I not tell you not to trust Lord Dagen?” He paced from one end of the bathroom to the other, and Bree sunk a bit lower into the bubbles. Had he somehow found out what she had done to get her living quarters rearranged? And, if so, what would he do with her now?

  “He didn’t think it was right for me to live in a cage. It was difficult to disagree with him on that.”

  He let out a frustrated sigh. “So, you asked him to move you? Behind my back?”

  “No,” Bree said slowly. “He came to me. I couldn’t go to him because I was locked in a cage, remember?”

  “Bree. He’s dangerous.”

  “So are all the Dark Fae.” Bree shrugged, sloshing the bubbles around the water. “He said he could get me better living quarters, and who was I to complain? It wasn’t like you were about to do it for me. Why would I turn him down?”

  “I cannot believe this. What is he playing at?” He stormed from one end of the bathroom to the other again. “I will tell you one thing. When I become King, the council’s orders will no longer take precedence over mine. And I will put you right back into that cell.”

  “Well, then I certainly cannot wait until your coronation, my Prince,” Bree said dryly. “Please, do tell me who I need to assassinate for you so that you can take the crown more quickly.”

  He stopped pacing at that, glaring down at Bree with an intensity that took her breath away. Taveon rarely showed much emotion other than a flicker of irritation or disdain. But he was boiling now, his fire stoked by both Dagen and herself.

  “You do not know who you are dancing with, Bree. This is a mistake. One I fear you are sorely going to regret.”

  Bree’s heart thumped hard. “Why? Are you going to do something to make me regret it?”

  She didn’t know why she’d just said that. Taking Lord Dagen’s living quarters might be dancing with danger, but speaking to Taveon this way was jumping straight into the fire.

  Taveon took a step closer to the bathtub, his eyes blazing. “Be careful, Bree. Just because I have been kind to you does not mean I will continue to do so.”

  She snorted. “Kind? You think that’s kind? Maybe I really wasn’t wrong about the Dark Fae if that’s what is considered kind. Locking me up in a cage. Shooting me when I don’t obey. Forcing me to come here to become your assassin.”

  “You volunteered.” His jaw flickered. “If you had told Princess Norah that you did not want to come here, you know she never would have let it happen. You came here willingly. Do not try to deny that now that you think you have a Lord on your side. Do you know anything about Dagen? Or did you just accept these quarters from him without considering what he might want from you in return?”

  Bree flicked her gaze away, unable to look at Taveon. She hated that she felt so guilty about spying on him for Dagen. And she hated that she felt guilty for feeling guilty. Neither of them deserved her loyalty. Neither of them were truly on her side. They just wanted something from her. They both wanted to use her for their own gain.

  And she hated that she had no other option than to go along with all of it.

  “This water is getting cold,” she said by way of response. “I’d like to get out now.”

  The truth was, the water still felt boiling hot, though maybe that was just her body’s response to this conversation and to Taveon’s presence in the room while she was naked in the tub. The bubbles were starting to melt away. If he stayed much longer, he would soon get much more than an eyeful.

  “You will get out when I say you get out,” he said, practically shouting the words. “You forget yourself once again, Bree. You are not a guest here. You are my servant. My slave. You will do as you are told or I will be forced to do something about it.”

  “What, like shoot me again?” she barked, grabbing a towel from beside the tub and standing straight up from the water, not even thinking about what she was doing.

  Taveon’s eyes went wide as she frantically clutched the towel around her naked body. Water was splashing everywhere, and rivulets streamed down her skin. She didn’t even care. She was far too angry at him to worry about how much skin she was showing. She couldn’t just sit in a tub and listen to him carry on and on about this slave nonsense.

  “Yes,” he said, though he sounded almost as if he had forgotten what they’d been talking about. “That is precisely what will happen if you do not obey me.”r />
  “Fine.” She narrowed her eyes. “How about you punish me right now then? Go on then. Get it over with.”

  She threw up her hands to emphasize her words, and her towel slipped completely from her fingers. It fell into the bathtub with a splash, leaving her standing there in nothing but her birthday suit. Her cheeks flamed, and she fought the urge to hide behind her hands. But she didn’t hide herself, not even from him. Any show of weakness would only be another win in Taveon’s column, not hers.

  Taveon’s cheeks looked as red as a sunburn, and he cleared his throat as he glanced away, his eyes going from the wall to the door, to anywhere but Bree. “I cannot have this conversation with you when you are like that.”

  “Then can you hand me a dry towel please?” she asked, her voice coming out much more choked than she’d intended.

  Taveon bustled about, still keeping his eyes very firmly fixed away. He found another towel in the bedroom’s wardrobe. As he pressed the material into her hands, their skin brushed. Bree’s entire body zeroed in on the contact, and her back snapped tight. Taveon finally risked a glance her way, swallowing hard as he met her eyes. Something strange passed between them then, something Bree couldn’t make sense of. Almost like...a connection, a spark, an understanding of who they both were.

  But then Bree snatched the towel away, draping it around her body. That was ridiculous, she thought to herself. There was no connection with Prince Taveon, except for the one that was full of neverending hatred. She’d only felt that strangeness with him because of the situation. It wasn’t every day that you found yourself bathing in front of an attractive male.

  Not that he was attractive. At least not as a total package. Sure, he was easy enough on the eyes but that was it.

  He was an asshole. One Bree wished she never had to see again.

  “Right.” He took a step back, clearing his throat as he did so. “I will need to converse with my fellow council members about this and speak to Lord Dagen personally. Do not get too comfortable in here, Bree. You may not call this room yours for much longer.”

  She made a face at his back as he stormed out of the bathroom. And then he turned to glance over his shoulder just in time to catch it. Irritation flickered across his dark features.

  “Lord Dagen is not one to hand out gifts without expecting something in return. Careful, Bree.”

  Chapter 19

  Taveon

  He could not believe it. What was Lord Dagen playing at? Why in the name of the forest would he move Bree Paine, Taveon’s slave, into nice quarters on a hallway that was filled with low-ranking members of the Court? Hell, even Rafferty lived in that same wing. Sure, Dagen had posted guards outside her door, but it was ridiculously careless. Not only could Bree try to escape, but her life was in danger every second she stepped foot inside the main corridors of the castle.

  Taveon threw open the door to Lord Dagen’s chambers without even knocking. The male might have been his father’s Hand of the King, but that was no longer his position now. Taveon would barge in if he pleased.

  “What is the meaning of this?” Taveon asked in a low growl. Lord Dagen sat at his dining room table, a small oval thing made from the woods of the Forest of the Fireflies. It stood out from the dark and dreary atmosphere that hung throughout the rest of the castle. It was one thing that Taveon had always noticed about the Lord. He might have been his father’s right hand, but his tastes had always been far different.

  Dagen leaned back in his chair and laced his hands behind his golden-haired head. “I assume you are here about the girl.”

  “Of course I am here about the girl,” Taveon barked. “You moved my slave from her cell to a room in the middle of the rest of the Court’s quarters.”

  “Your champion,” Dagen corrected. “I moved your champion to better quarters. If she is going to succeed in her task, then a damp, dark, and dreary cell is not the place for her to waste away her hours. She needed more space, fresh air, and a window to see outside.”

  Taveon’s frown deepened. “Since when do you have any mercy for the slaves?”

  “It is not mercy, Taveon,” Dagen said, forgoing any acknowledgement of Taveon’s title. “It is common sense.”

  “You went behind my back,” Taveon continued as though the Lord hadn’t said a word. “You did not even discuss this with me. You just moved her without asking.”

  “I did not need to ask,” Dagen said, his eyes glittering. “Your father may be dead, but I am still the Hand until a new King takes the throne. And as long as I hold my title, my word counts for more than yours. The champion is to live above ground instead of below, and she will be receiving far more nutritious food from now on. Those scraps will do nothing but make her weak.”

  Taveon couldn’t believe this. Lord Dagen had done many things in his life, but the Prince had never known him to be quite so bold.

  “Why are you doing this?” Taveon couldn’t help but ask. “You do not even wish me to rule, and it is not as though you care about Bree.”

  Dagen raised an eyebrow. “And you do care about her? If you did, you would have given her better quarters yourself. Honestly, Taveon. I do not understand why you are so worked up about this. What harm can there be in giving her a nicer bed and a window?”

  Taveon prickled at Dagen’s words. He had not told the Lord what she’d done that day he brought her back. In fact, he had kept that information hidden within himself. Only Rafe knew the truth. He needed to be careful now. If the Lord knew the truth about what had happened, he would start asking questions. Questions that Taveon could not and did not want to answer.

  “She does not wish to be here,” Taveon finally said. That much was the truth, and it wouldn’t hurt for the Lord to know that much. In fact, Bree had probably told him as much. “She may try to escape now that she is no longer behind iron bars.”

  The iron kept the Redcap girl from doing anything too crazy. She might not realize she was strong enough to rip through them in her beastly form, but Taveon certainly did. But iron was a weakness for the Light Fae. One touch could send her falling to her knees.

  Dagen waved his hand dismissively. “There are guards stationed in the hallway, and the window is far too high in the tower for her to do a thing. If she tried to jump out, she would fall to her death. She might hate this place with all of her being, but she is not suicidal. She cannot run.”

  Taveon realized there was no use in arguing anymore. Lord Dagen had made his mind up about Bree, and there would be no talking him out of his decision. For whatever reason, he was dead set on keeping Taveon’s slave in courtly quarters.

  “Fine,” Taveon said with a scowl. “But if she escapes and I am left without my champion, that is on you, Lord Dagen.”

  And it didn’t escape Taveon’s notice that this was precisely what Lord Dagen wanted. Without Bree, the Prince would have to find another champion, one much less certain to win.

  Which would mean Taveon would be much less certain to take the crown for himself.

  Chapter 20

  Bree

  Normally, Bree got some leftover scraps that tasted of a horse’s ass around dinnertime. Things were different today. Ethne, one of the council members, came bustling in, telling Bree to get ready. Apparently, she was being allowed to join the feasting for once, though she couldn’t help but feel a little uneasy about the whole thing.

  It had only been a couple of days since she got shot with an arrow at the last feast. Why in the name of the forest would she go right back there so she could get shot again?

  “You will be wearing this,” Ethne said, holding up a silvery dress that was far more revealing than Bree was used to wearing. “This is my dress. A slave would never wear it.”

  “Thank you,” Bree said, fingering the silky material. “Don’t get me wrong. I appreciate it, and I want nothing more than to get out of this room and eat a meal like a normal person, but...well, everyone knows I’m Taveon’s slave now. I’m still me, whether I wear this d
ress or not.”

  “Ah.” Ethne smiled. “Many of the Dark Fae have gifts. Mine just happens to be casting glamor. Unfortunately, I can only make someone look like myself, so you will be going as me tonight.”

  “What?” Bree gaped at the fae.

  Ethne dropped her voice to a low whisper, casting a furtive glance at the door. “Lord Dagen told me what you are doing for him. I am happy to help you in your mission. Plus, it will give you a chance to have some real food.”

  “But...” Bree continued to clutch at the material. “What if someone tries to talk to me? Won’t they realize I’m not you?”

  Ethne gave her a tight smile. “Most likely not. These feasts are courtly affairs which means that females are not given a place of prominence. We keep quiet. The males do most of the talking.”

  “How...” Bree wrinkled her nose. “Archaic.”

  “Yes, well.” Ethne loosed a breath and lifted her shoulders. “Welcome to the courtly ways of the Dark Fae. I know things are different from where you hail. I am quite envious.”

  “Don’t be,” Bree said. “We’re your food, remember?”

  “It is difficult to forget. Remember, not all of us agree with the Tithe.” Ethne frowned and searched Bree’s eyes. “You just have to understand. It has always been this way. Or rather, it has been this way as long as any of us can remember. It is just how our world works. It is impossible to imagine it being any different.”

  “Just because things have always been a certain way...well, it doesn’t make it right,” replied Bree.

  “You are right. It does not. And King Midas’s family has ruled for generation after generation. Some say it is time they no longer do.”

  “And you’re one of them.” Bree raised an eyebrow. “Why? I thought Lord Dagen supported the King. I thought the reason he didn’t want the Prince to rule is because he’s too different from Midas. He doesn’t ‘have what it takes’ or whatever.”