A Court of Hopes and Dreams

Chapter Three

"Why did you try to stop her from killing the wolf when you are human as well?" I was brought out of my thoughts when the lion looking fae asked me that question. I thought for a minute, "Why wouldn't I? I know people aren't fond of faeries but there are prejudices and stereotypes on both sides. Just because there are differences between us doesn't mean that I am going to want to stand by and watch as a fae got killed." Before he could respond Feyre came back. I motioned towards the shed and told him, "Your friend is in the shed. I stopped her from selling him into the market to get money for our family."

He nodded and gruffly responded, "Thank you, for a mortal you are empathetic to my kind." He wandered off. Feyre turned to me and asked, "Are you ok? He was very scary in there. He held you like he wanted to spirit you away from everyone." He kind of is though. I did not say that out loud though. I nodded my head and watched as he came back to lead us over the wall. Every step toward the line of trees was too swift, too light, too soon carrying us to whatever torment and misery awaited. I didn't dare look back at the cottage. I knew that this night would haunt me for the rest of my life. I am going to feel the hurt of our father's betrayal and rejection for a while longer.

We entered the line of trees. Darkness beckoned beyond. But a white mare was patiently waiting-unbound-beside a tree, her coat like fresh snow in the moonlight. She only lowered her head-as if in respect, of all things-as the beast lumbered up to her. I can tell he only thought of one of us coming with him, not two since there is only one horse for us to climb up on. "If you do not want to get on the horse, the little one can come with me, she can get on my back. I would not mind." He taunted me, just when I thought he would be ok, he says things like this. We gave him a look and he smirked as much as he could in this form.

He motioned with a giant paw for us to mount. Still the horse remained calm, even as he passed close enough to gut her in one swipe. It had been years since I'd ridden, and I'd only ridden a pony at that, but I savored the warmth of the horse against my half-frozen body as I climbed into the saddle and she set into a walk. Feyre is right behind me, she has not really ridden either. I was more confident in the saddle then she was. Without light to guide me, I let her trail the beast. They were nearly the same size. I wasn't surprised when we headed northward-toward faerie territory-though my stomach clenched so tightly it ached.

Live with him. I could live out the rest of my mortal life on his lands with Feyre. Perhaps this was merciful-but then, he hadn't specified in what manner, exactly, we would live. The Treaty forbade faeries from taking us as slaves, but-perhaps that excluded humans who'd murdered faeries. His comments are what is getting Feyre more nervous though, I can tell. She is super tense behind me. It also makes sense too since she has more prejudice against faeries than I do. I didn't really believe in the stories growing up but maybe I should have.

Prythian. The word was a death knell that echoed through me again and again. Lands-he'd said he had lands, but what kind of dwelling? Our horse was beautiful and its saddle was crafted of rich leather, which meant he had some sort of contact with civilized life. I'd never heard the specifics of what the lives of faeries or High Fae were like-never heard much about anything other than their deadly abilities and appetites. I clenched the reins to keep my hands from shaking. If I show that I am nervous, then Feyre is going to get more nervous. She is already nervous enough.

There were few firsthand accounts of Prythian itself. The mortals who went over the wall-either willingly as tributes from the Children of the Blessed or stolen-never came back. I'd learned most of the legends from villagers, and didn't take much stock in them, though our father had occasionally offered up a milder tale or two on the nights he made an attempt to remember we existed.Well that his other three daughters existed. Never me. When I was little he did spend some time trying to acknowledge me and talk to me. He gave up when I was eight and our mom died. We lost our wealth not that long after, he stopped talking and looking at me after.