The Crown Prince of the Fire Fae is looking for a bride, and to find one, he'll invite the most eligible ladies to compete for his hand.
Maren, a humble lady's maid, did not consider herself one of these women--not until she was forced to accept th...
The skin on her hand had healed without a scratch. The blood had vanished. Not a smear of crimson stained her bed or the floor. The evidence disappeared, manifesting itself in a small line of tingling in the valley of her palm. She reached under her pillow, wondering if it were all a dream. But her fingertips grazed metal that grew warm from being smothered all night.
Emberlynn entered her chambers with a tea set and a surprised grin. "Someone actually went to bed last night?"
Maren leaned back protectively on her pillow. "To prove you wrong."
The attendant lowered the brew onto the nightstand. "How does it feel to be rested?"
"I'm not sure yet," Maren answered, mumbling a thanks as Emberlynn passed her a teacup and saucer. It was scented with cinnamon. the aroma calming her nerves. She took a sip, wincing a bit as it burned her tongue. "How was your night?"
"Long." Emberlynn said it with such shortness there was no more room to pry.
"Well, I hope you can get some rest soon." Maren took another sip.
Emberlynn nodded in acknowledgment of the comment, but otherwise let it pass.
"I'll be skipping breakfast."
She finished the tea and set it back onto the tray for Emberlynn. "But I need your help. I am going to speak with him today. I would like to look as nice as I can."
The attendant bowed her head. "I can show you a few options."
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Maren grew adjusted to imagining her appearance without the assistance of a mirror. Green velvet hugged her torso, emerald chiffon forming her sleeves and skirt. For the first time in a while, her gown did not reach the floor. It reminded her of a dancer's from the light weight and its affinity to twirl when she walked. Her slippers were like that of a dancer's as well, silk ribbon entangling her ankles like ivy. As soon as Emberlynn had gone, Maren slipped the dagger from her pillow and placed it behind a few books in the shelves of her room.
Certain that it would not be seen, she darted into the hallway. Servants in ash grey watched her pass by, some of them carrying platters while others held baskets of linens. She refused to glance at any of them, unable to conjure a sense of warmth until she knew exactly what she was doing. All of that began with finding him.
The library was silent and undisturbed. She shuffled from aisle to aisle, shelf to shelf looking for the Dauphin. He was nowhere to be found. Her heart dropped a bit, the mere size of the castle becoming that much larger. However, she took care in finding the black book that left her the key. As quietly as she could, she slipped it back into the pages. There was no use in keeping such an artifact when a promise sealed by blood bound her and Faine together. Before she parted with it, she made sure that it stood upright amongst the other titles.
"Fancy finding you here," Genevieve said.
Maren grinned, wiping her hands on the skirt of her gown as though her guilt would rub off as well. "I did not know you liked books."
