The Masked Fae (Royal Fae of Rose Briar Woods Book 1) Page 7

  Slowly, I turn back. “I’m sorry?”

  She jerks her head toward one of the bushes. “I’ve been here for weeks, and as soon as one bloom fades, it’s replaced with another.”

  I look at the rose, frowning. “I imagine they are charmed.”

  Looking thoughtful, Alice leans down to fill a tiny, tin watering can from a spigot in the fountain.

  “You imagine?” She turns her eyes on me, her expression cooler than it is when I’m wearing the mask. “They’re your flowers. I thought you would know.”

  Feeling as if she’s scolding me, I nod toward the watering can. “That doesn’t seem terribly efficient.”

  “How else do you expect me to water your plants?”

  Before I can answer, she disappears down the winding path, leaving me standing here like a fool. I find myself following her, hurrying to catch up. Though the conservatory is large, it’s not so vast that it’s difficult to find her.

  She slowly pours water into an earthen pot holding a young spruce. It only takes a few seconds, and then she turns back toward the fountain to repeat the process.

  “So, this is the chore Regina gave you,” I say skeptically, wondering if someone else had this tedious task before her. But a Faerie wouldn’t need to resort to such a simplistic process.

  Alice doesn’t even spare me a glance. “I trim the plants a bit here and there as well.”

  I watch her work. She doesn’t protest my presence, but I can tell I make her uncomfortable. When I can take no more, I catch her arm and pull her to me. Not close—I leave space between us. Still, Alice’s crystalline eyes go wide, and fear dilates her pupils.

  “It’s all right,” I say quietly.

  I expect her to dart back when I release her, but she stands her ground.

  Raising one hand, I create an invisible shield above us. With the other, I draw moisture in the room into clouds inside the high ceiling. Fog swirls around us, warm and wet. The first raindrops fall on the stones near us, followed by more on the leaves of the hothouse plants.

  Alice gasps, marveling at the magic as it showers the room in a gentle rain. It patters against my small overhead ward, streaming over the edges and falling to the ground around us. The smell of a forest storm, rich with earth and life, envelops us.

  After a moment, Alice turns back to me. Her breath comes too quickly. She’s as scared as she is in awe. “How?” she asks softly.

  “I am Fae,” I say. “The elements bend to my will.”

  “Can you all do that?”

  I nod slowly. “Most.”

  Alice glances down at the watering can and then laughs. “Why is this even in here?”

  I find myself smiling as I shake my head. “I don’t know.”

  “I doubt you came to water the plants for me.” She studies me. “Why are you here?”

  I pause before I answer. Why am I here? What did I hope to accomplish with the meeting? “I don’t know that either.”

  Her frown becomes thoughtful. “Please don’t ask me to go home again. I haven’t even worked off these dresses yet.”

  “Short of physically removing you from the grounds, I honestly don’t know how to persuade you to leave.”

  Her lips twitch with a suppressed smile.

  “May I ask you about your childhood?” I ask before I can think better of it.

  Surprised, Alice cocks her head to the side as she looks up at me. “Why?”

  “If we are going to coexist peacefully, it seems we should make an effort to be cordial and get to know one another.”

  “All right,” she says slowly, clearly suspicious there is more to the question than I’m letting on. “I was born in Kellington. My parents died in a carriage accident when I was nine. My maternal grandmother already lived with us, so she became our guardian. She passed away shortly after Gustin came of age, and then I became his burden. There isn’t much more to tell.”

  And though I don’t have my mother’s talent at reading human lies, I notice the way her eyes dart from mine—she’s reluctant to divulge the entire truth.

  “What about before your parents died?”

  She shakes her head, looking away. “I don’t remember much.”

  My intuition pricks, and it becomes hard to breathe.

  “Have you ever been in Faerie before?” I demand.

  Alice turns her eyes back, no longer hiding from me. Her brow creases as she shakes her head.

  “No.” She leans moderately closer as she gives me a self-deprecating look. “Everyone knows only the foolish venture past the bridge.”

  I laugh in response, but the air catches in my throat because I don’t sense a lie this time. As far as Alice knows, she’s telling the truth.

  Yet I believe this is the girl—I feel it.

  But how is it possible? As far as anyone knows, our Alice is dead.

  7

  ALICE

  The marquis watches me with the strangest expression. He looks like I’ve flummoxed him.

  It’s been a strange meeting, even disregarding the sudden downpour. Though Lord Ambrose claims he wants to get to know me—that we should be cordial—his expression is shielded.

  He seems leery of me, unsure and hesitant. It’s as if he’s here against his better judgment. But why?

  Even after he lowers his hand, rain continues to fall around us, making my job obsolete.

  I stare at the rain-drenched flowers as the shower begins to let up. With a sigh, I say, “Now what am I going to do with my afternoon?”

  “Whatever you’d like,” he answers, perhaps thinking he’s doing me a favor.

  “While the sentiment is appreciated, I’m not sure there’s much for me to do here, my lord.”

  “Brahm.” His eyes meet mine, and they hold. Lowering his voice marginally, he says again, “Please, call me Brahm.”

  “Brahm,” I say slowly.

  He nods.

  “All right…” I frown. “If we are now on a first-name basis, then perhaps you will permit a question?”

  He looks unsure, but he nods once more.

  “The last time I spoke with you, you were gruff and abrupt. Why are you being nice now?”

  “I’ve come to terms with the fact I cannot get rid of you.” He softens the words with a weak smile. “So, we might as well make the best of it.”

  “If you free my brother, I will leave,” I can’t help but point out.

  Slightly amused, he says, “I’m not that benevolent.”

  Not yet anyway, but I cannot help but feel that my goal to win him over might not be so impossible.

  As if bracing himself for something unpleasant, he clasps his hands behind his back and says, “You haven’t left the manor in several weeks. I imagine you are growing restless. Shall we go into Kellington and see a show?”

  “You would take your garden maid on an outing?” I say skeptically.

  “You are not a garden maid, Alice. You are the daughter of Lord Gravely, born of noble blood. I am merely humoring you by allowing you to tend the plants. We are equals.”

  “But…I am human,” I remind him. Never mind the fact that he is actually a royal, though he doesn’t bring that up.

  Brahm almost smiles. “I haven’t forgotten.”

  I study him, remembering the bandit’s warnings. After a moment, I set my hands on my hips. “I know what this is.”

  “What is it?” Brahm asks, his brow furrowing.

  “You’re going to trick me into following you across the bridge, and then you’re going to leave me.”

  “While that is certainly a tempting idea, I have no intention of it.”

  “How can I possibly trust you when you’re desperate to oust me from your house?”

  “Because lies do not come easily to the Fae of West Faerie—our magic does not allow it. Surely you’ve heard that?” His dark eyes earnestly meet mine. “I will bring you back, safe and sound, at the end of the night. You have my word.”

  I look for a loophole, a way he
could be twisting his words. But it doesn’t matter. I won’t go with him. What if the bandit were to finally visit and find me gone? Worse, what if he were to see me together with Lord Ambrose?

  Though I now realize it’s honestly not safe for him to return.

  He was right—the Fae know of his existence. They call him the Highwayman, and his moniker graces a good portion of the estate gossip. The men whisper of his treachery. The women say he’d be an exciting paramour if he could be tamed.

  The thought gives me chills.

  Part of me hopes he’s not foolish enough to visit. The other part knows I will wait by my balcony just as I have every night for the last two weeks, just in case.

  “Not tonight,” I say to the marquis. “But thank you for the offer.”

  Disappointment passes over Brahm’s face, maybe resignation as well. “Perhaps a different day.”

  He then looks up, and the remaining clouds disperse. He steps away from me, no longer needing to shelter me from the storm. “Have a pleasant afternoon.”

  I nod silently, watching him leave the conservatory, feeling unsettled by the conversation.

  Another week passes, and there is still no sign of the masked man.

  I worry; I pace. I nearly make myself sick.

  He said he couldn’t keep coming—I know why he couldn’t keep coming—but that doesn’t soothe my rampant worries.

  Maybe he met someone else in the woods and moved on.

  Perhaps I should as well.

  I glance toward the wall that separates my room from the marquis’s.

  Lord Ambrose hasn’t asked me on another outing, nor has he come to speak with me again. He seems to be keeping his distance. When he passes me in the halls, I get a respectful nod, and that is all.

  I haven’t become friendly with the marquis’s staff either. It would be challenging to forge a relationship with them, considering they don’t want me here, and I don’t trust them.

  Regina is pleasant, but she’s rarely around.

  I’ve become my only source of company, and I’m not all that interesting. Maybe it’s because I’m a human in Faerie, and it’s inevitable, but I feel like I’m going mad.

  Irritated with myself, I decide I’ve had enough. I’m obviously waiting for a man who doesn’t intend to return.

  I stalk into the hall, turn left, and stop in front of a door I’ve only been through once.

  I rap on it loudly, crossing my arms as I wait for the marquis to answer. I wait…and I wait.

  Finally deciding he’s either not in, or he has no intention of answering, I turn to leave.

  And then the door opens.

  When I look back, I nearly lose my nerve. Lord Ambrose stands inside his room, his shirt partially open. His hair is mussed. He wears no waistcoat or jacket.

  My mouth goes dry, and I realize I’m staring at him like a fool.

  “Miss Alice?” he asks, perhaps wondering why I’m outside his room at this hour.

  In a rush, I say, “I know it’s late, and I know you’re likely going to think I’m insane, but I need a little fresh air—right now.”

  His eyebrows fly up, and though he does, in fact, look at me like I’m insane, a smile edges across his face. “Right now?”

  “Now.”

  Slowly, he nods, glancing down at his open shirt. “May I dress first?”

  My cheeks heat, but I nod curtly. “I will wait for you in my room. Knock when you’re ready.”

  “Where are we going?” he asks.

  “Anywhere,” I say. “Just…away.”

  I disappear inside my room, resting my head on the door when I’m alone, wondering what’s wrong with me.

  A few minutes later, there is a knock.

  Bracing myself, I open the door. A girlish part of me swoons at the idea of Lord Ambrose calling on me—even if I commanded it.

  None of my suitors were as handsome as he. Obviously, none of them were Fae, either. But the marquis is not a suitor, nor do I want him to be.

  I just need someone to talk to. And right now, he is my best option.

  He offers his arm. “Shall we?”

  Grateful, I take it. We walk down the hall, neither of us speaking. It’s not awkward, however. It feels as if we are waiting until we can breathe outside the confines of the manor before we begin the conversation.

  “Would you like to walk?” he asks when we leave the house and begin down the steps. “Or should I rouse a groom to prepare the carriage?”

  I glance toward the dark forest. “Is it safe?”

  “No one will bother you while you are with me.”

  “Not even goblins?” I ask, trying to joke. The question comes out timid.

  His arm stiffens slightly. “Not even goblins. We won’t find any inside the estate grounds anyway—they cannot cross the fence.”

  Though I’m nervous, I nod.

  “Am I correct in assuming that your reluctance means your time in Rose Briar Woods has not been pleasant?” he asks.

  “Your estate is lovely,” I answer automatically.

  “There is far more to Faerie than my estate. And much of it is beautiful.”

  “And deadly,” I say under my breath.

  The marquis tugs me to a stop, turning me so I have no choice but to face him. “You’re safe with me, Alice.”

  “And if I were to leave your side?”

  A true smile flickers across his face, transforming him. “I wouldn’t advise it.”

  He’s like a different man when he smiles—still just as handsome, but far more approachable.

  “Carry on, my lord. I will stay by your side.”

  “My name is Brahm,” he reminds me solemnly, his voice heartbreakingly familiar. “Brahm.”

  For a moment, my heart stutters. I study him in the night, questioning what I know cannot be true.

  I can make out his ears in the lantern’s glow—they’re noticeably pointed. I know if I were to trace them with my fingers, I would feel the difference. They are not human ears, but those which belong to the Fae—not as prominently pointed as the northern elves’, but certainly not rounded at the top.

  And yet, I cannot shake the strange suspicion that I’ve met this man in the shadows before—that I’ve waited for him every night for three weeks straight.

  “Brahm,” I repeat, knowing my thoughts are nonsensical.

  The marquis nods, his dark eyes on mine.

  “Are we going to walk?” I ask weakly.

  As if shaking himself, he moves with a start, leading me into the woods.

  Creatures watch us from the brambles. I can see their glowing eyes from the corner of my vision, but every time I turn, they’re gone.

  “What are they?” I finally ask, uneasy.

  Brahm smiles. “Faunaweavers. They’re shy.”

  “But they exist? I’m not losing my mind?”

  He chuckles. “They exist. If you’re patient, and you stop trying to find them, they’ll come out.”

  “Are they…unnerving?”

  He flashes me a questioning look. “Define unnerving.”

  “Terrifying? Grotesque?”

  He laughs again. “I’ve never heard them described that way, no.”

  We walk, eventually finding ourselves surrounded by the roses that grow wild in the wood, so different from the ones I tend in the conservatory. Raspberries grow amongst them here as well, their fruit hanging red on the canes, now ripe.

  I gesture toward the berries. “I suppose if I eat one, I’ll lose my mind?”

  “How have you been avoiding the effects of our food thus far?”

  I glance at him, unable to shake these strange suspicions. “A concoction.”

  He doesn’t so much as flinch. “A smart thing to keep close in Faerie.”

  “Yes…”

  “Do you have it with you?”

  “I don’t.”

  He raises a dark eyebrow. “Do you trust me?”

  “Not particularly.”

  Humor l
ights his eyes. “Then I don’t suggest you eat one.”

  We continue, and I begin to wish I had worn boots the day I came into the woods. Tiny rocks and sticks jab into my slippers, making it uncomfortable to walk. I’m about to suggest we turn around when a wooden bench appears right in the path. It’s simply there, waiting to be sat upon.

  “I swear that wasn’t there a moment ago,” I say.

  “You must have wished for it.”

  “I did?” I say dumbly.

  Brahm nods. “The woods are a strange place. They take pity on those they favor.”

  “And they…favor me?”

  “They must, or you wouldn’t be alive.” He gestures for me to sit. “Even though it was well after dark, you arrived at my estate when most humans who wander Faerie after dusk disappear forever.”

  I want to argue that it was thanks to the Highwayman, but I hold my tongue.

  Not sure I’m comfortable with benches appearing out of thin air, I sit slowly, expecting it to wink into nothing and send me crashing to the ground.

  “Let’s test my theory,” Brahm says casually, crossing his arms as he stands in front of me. “Wish for something.”

  “Something like what?”

  He smiles. “Anything.”

  For a moment, my thoughts flicker to the bandit. Immediately, I dismiss them, irritated with myself.

  “A little more light would be nice,” I say.

  Suddenly, the surrounding woods flicker to life as dozens of floating fairy lights illuminate the space. I let out a startled squeal, nearly darting under the bench.

  “You spook very easily,” Brahm says, grinning for the first time since I’ve known him.

  “It’s not natural,” I argue.

  “Not the natural you’re familiar with,” he corrects.

  “I’m not sure I can get used to it.”

  “Does that mean you’re ready to return to Kellington?” he teases.

  “Not yet.”

  Shaking his head, he sits next to me. The bench isn’t large, and we’re very close. His shoulders brush against mine, but he doesn’t seem to mind.

  Unable to help myself, I say with only a mild bite in my voice, “Do you find me less uncomfortable now?”

  Brahm turns his head to look at me. “No.”