Chapter Twenty-Five
If my favorite story in Faeries of the British Isles was about faerie doors, Lydia’s was about the faerie king. We made Mrs. Osbourne tell it over and over again until it was as well-worn as the grooves on her butcher block. As the story goes, long before Queen Mor, when England was a wild place, the portal between worlds was open. The Others passed through freely, looking to make bargains and use fragile humans as their playthings. Milkmaids would wander off into the night and return at sunrise, strangely hollowed out.
Fields would turn to ash in a single afternoon, others would sprout wheat of pure gold that melted in the rain. Babies were snatched out of their cradles, strange copies left in their stead.
Clever humans knew to stay away from the edge of the forest, not to let a stranger inside after dark, and never to respond to someone calling your name if you did not recognize the voice doing the calling. There was one such girl who thought she was very clever indeed.
Her parents, terrified by their daughter’s remarkable beauty, kept her locked up on a country estate much like ours, tucked away from the world outside and the dangers that lurked there.
The girl was content to live a quiet life with her garden and her brothers and sisters and her books. But on the evening of her eighteenth birthday she heard music so beautiful she couldn’t help but weep. With big, fat tears rolling down her cheeks, she followed the music beyond the safe walls of her estate and into the bordering woods. It was there, under a willow tree, that she found a man strumming a lute. Except it wasn’t a man. As she got closer, she noticed something just the slightest bit off about him, his too-long fingers, his pointed ears, his face so beautiful it made her weep harder, and she knew she had stumbled upon one of the Others she’d been warned about.
She turned to run before he saw her, but she wasn’t quick enough.
Immediately stricken by her beauty, the man grabbed her by the hand, fell to his knees, and begged her to be his wife.
Thinking herself very clever, she promised to be his wife for a year and a
day and then she would be free to live as she pleased. The man agreed to her terms and took her back through the portal to his land to wed. It wasn’t until a crown was placed upon her head at their wedding that she found out her new husband was the king of the Otherworld and she had been tricked. Time doesn’t pass for the Others like it does for humans, and a year and a day in the Otherworld could be as long as a human lifespan on earth.
In some versions of the story she eventually fell in love with her husband and they reigned side by side for many years; in others, she escaped him andfaerie doors, he spent the rest of his eternal life searching for revenge upon her and herll it over and offspring. I always liked the version where they fell in love best. Lydia and Iher block. As would make tiaras of dandelions and pretend to be the faerie king’s humanthe bride.eely, looking In my dream, I am wedded to the faerie king, attempting to escape thes. Milkmaids prison of our shared bedchamber. He runs his hand softly over the front ofhollowed out. my body, cupping me from behind. “Come to bed, wife.” His tongue flicksout wheat of against the shell of my ear and I shiver all over. He moves his mouth lower,cradles, trailing his tongue over my pulse, down to where my collarbones ache.
“Come to bed,” he says once more, and this time I follow him.st, not to let a His hands are hot as they press against the planes of my back. He cradlesng your name my face gently and tucks a loose curl behind my ear. I writhe against hisone such girl body until I’m aching for him all over. I don’t understand why he’s making me wait. He rolls so he is on top of me and cages me in with his arms. Hisuty, kept her knee nudges between my legs, and I drop them open for him. “Kiss me,” Iom the world whisper against his mouth. “Take me. I was only ever yours.” The faerie king comes into focus. He has Emmett’s face.her brothers “Ivy,” the faerie king says.birthday she “Ivy.” It’s louder this time.big, fat tears “Ivy!” I blink awake, confused and clammy, the wanting all over me likee walls of her a fever. The room I’m in is shabby and unfamiliar. I blink again, and my eyesow tree, that adjust to the low light of dawn.he got closer, Oh, right. The storm. The coaching inn. Emmett.his too-long I tilt my face up and see Emmett staring down at me, a bemused smile onp harder, and his face. His hair is wild with sleep, his eyes slightly puffy. “You’re difficult to wake up,” he says.uick enough.
My head is tucked against his warm chest, his heartbeat hammering in myhand, fell to ears. He’s got an arm tucked against my back, his hand falling right on the small of my waist.a year and a
agreed to herThe tips of my ears are freezing, but the rest of me is warm with the heat of Emmett’s body.wasn’t until a “I’m sorry.” I scramble across the bed, hot with embarrassment.d out her new “The fire went out in the night. You were cold,” Emmett replies.ricked. Time “Yes. Cold.”and a day in Emmett swipes a hand across his face, like he can wipe away the blush of color along his cheeks. “I’ll get it going again.”her husband “Aren’t you lucky you had such a good teacher,” I say as he bends toaped him and open the tinderbox.n her and her He’s ditched his shirt sometime in the night, and he wraps himself in a. Lydia and I blanket to get to work on the hearth.human I understand what Emmett meant when he said he would always be love- hungry. I feel a stab of desperate hunger when I look at him.escape the The storm has finally quieted, and dawn arrives with a wash of pale bluer the front of pressing against the windows.tongue flicks I notice for the first time that Emmett’s left collarbone juts outmouth lower, unnaturally under the skin. Usually hidden by his high cravats, it’s poking outrbones ache. from under the blanket now.
“What happened there?” I gesture to it.k. He cradles Emmett touches the bone gingerly. “I broke it jumping horses when I wase against his twelve. I was afraid my governess would scold me, and I had no one elsehe’s making looking after me, so I hid it, and it healed all wrong. Hurt like the devil.”his arms. His At twelve, I was still playing dolls with Greer. Emmett was so alone, heI didn’t have a single person he trusted enough to tell about a broken bone.he faerie king His back is to me as he stokes the fire. “You talk in your sleep.”
I shuffle down under the quilt until I am completely covered. “Please leave me here to die,” I call out.
Emmett laughs. “Don’t you want to know what you said?”over me like “No. I want to be drowned in one of the puddles outside.”and my eyes “It wasn’t all that bad. Something about a king.”
I poke my head out from under the covers and hope he doesn’t see me blush. I pray I said nothing about what the king was doing. “That’s not soused smile on terrible.”ou’re difficult Emmett turns and flashes me a devilish grin. “And my name.”
“Ugh,” I shout, and dive back under.mering in my “It’s not as bad as when you were sick. You said all sorts of things.”right on the Brown hair. A strong hand on my forehead soothing away a fever.
with the heatI poke my head out of the covers again. “That was you? I thought maybe I’d dreamed it.”
He stills. “I felt so responsible. It was my fault you had to jump in that blasted river in the first place. I made Lottie sneak me in to sit by your bedside in the night.” y the blush ofPicturing the scene makes my heart ache. Emmett in the dark, sitting in that hard, wooden chair while I tossed and turned. “It wasn’t your fault.” he bends toHe won’t look at me. “Of course it was.”
I can see it all in the slump his shoulders, like the weight of the world is himself in aresting on them. “Emmett, you’re not responsible for keeping me safe.”
“That’s a stupid thing to say.” ways be love-I don’t understand why he sounds angry with me.
h of pale blueDownstairs in the pub, Emmett shakes awake a mostly sober driver, and at dawn we climb into a gig, a two-wheeled cart pulled by a single horse. one juts outEmmett hopes the lighter vehicle will do a better job at navigating the sodden ’s poking outHampshire landscape. He pays the driver double to pull us as fast as he can, which proves to be not very fast at all.
The bogs have flooded, and the hard-packed dirt roads from yesterday s when I washave turned into rivers of mud. no one elseSomething strange happens on the drive. I can see Emmett retreat inside of himself again. The softness behind his eyes hardens and the cool mask of so alone, hedisinterest falls over his face once more. It’s suddenly like last night didn’t happen and I’m just another girl he’s ignoring at a ball he didn’t want to be at in the first place. ered. “Please“Emmett?” I nudge him with my elbow. “Are you quite well?”
“Perfectly fine.” He still won’t look at me.
“What will we tell them?” I ask.
“I’ll tell them that I went to go get drunk in Alton, and you, with your kind heart, came to see if I was all right. We were trapped in the inn by the esn’t see mestorm, but slept separately. I’ve already bribed the driver to corroborate.”
That’s not so“It’s not a good story,” I say. It still involves me sneaking off, spending time with Emmett without a chaperone, outside of polite society. I’ll still be kicked out of the competition, but it might just keep me alive.
“It’s the best I can do.”
The poor cart horse trudges along for over an hour until we finally reach the outskirts of the hunting camp. The cheerful bunting has been blown down
ought maybeby the storm and it droops sadly, tangled in tree branches.
Emmett and I hop down from the cart, and he pays the driver at least jump in thattriple what he’s owed. sit by yourAnd here it is. The moment I’ve been so afraid of. Time for my reputation to go up in flames. Will the queen strip my family of their lands and titles as ark, sitting inshe’s promised? Will I be killed? Surely Emmett and Bram wouldn’t let that happen, but perhaps even they will be powerless against her.
My knees are weak, my hands clammy. All I ever wanted to do was fix the world isthings, and instead I’ve broken them beyond repair. Last night felt like a dream, but the cold light of reality is here now, and it stings my eyes.
Emmett marches in first, like I’m not even here. I trail after him like a shadow.
I expect a flurry of activity, of scandalized shouting and heavy glares. driver, and atInstead, we find . . . nothing. single horse.The tents are still secured to their platforms, though bedraggled after the ng the soddenstorm. The ground is little more than a mud pit, the tables and chairs from the ast as he can,first night half toppled and covered in filth.
“Did they leave?” I ask. om yesterdayEmmett looks just as confused as I am.
Just then a footman comes from out of the larger staff tent, caked in mud retreat insideup to his knees. He bows to Emmett, startled by our presence. “Your cool mask ofHighness, has the party returned?” t night didn’t“I—” Emmett scrambles for an answer. want to be atSuddenly from behind us comes the jingling of reins and the barking of dogs. We turn to see a parade of horse-drawn carts and carriages trooping through the entrance to the camp. Leading them on horseback is Bram, who looks as perfectly unmussed as usual. The same cannot be said for the rest of the party, who look as if they’ve been trudging through mud for hours. ou, with yourBram comes down from his horse and gives me a quick bow and Emmett he inn by thea warm hug. “One of my more memorable birthdays. How did you fare here at camp?” off, spending“Oh—” Emmett stumbles as we both process what’s just happened. y. I’ll still beBram’s hunting party must have been delayed by the storm as well. We’ve beaten them by mere moments. Emmett blinks and squares his shoulders. “A little damp, but no worse for the wear.” finally reachIn our muddy clothes from last night, we look no better than the hunting blown downparty. We both make up half-hearted excuses of not wanting to call the staff
from their tents during the storm to prepare us for bed. river at leastEmmy, Marion, Greer, Olive, and Faith hop down from their carriage looking as if they’ve just been through war. Even Viscountess Bolingbroke is my reputationdisheveled, which feels outside the bounds of reality, like watching a dog s and titles aswalk on its hind legs. uldn’t let that“Goodness, what happened?” I ask.
“It was horrible,” Emmy says. “A deluge stranded us in the woods.” o do was fix“You were out there all night?” ht felt like a“The cooks had set up tents for our luncheon, so we weren’t entirely exposed to the elements, but one of the tents ripped halfway through the night er him like aand dumped water all over Greer,” Marion explains. I look to Greer, whose hair still hangs in damp strands down her back. heavy glares.“Bram’s magic kept a fire going, but I honestly thought I was going to drown,” Faith says. gled after theBram smiles apologetically. “I’m regretting I never tried harder to study airs from themagic.”
I follow the others into our tent. They all dress in dry clothes and wrap knit shawls around their shoulders. We take turns braiding each other’s hair while they ask me questions about my night. caked in mud“Our tent held up fine,” I lie. “It was a little cold, but it sounds as if we ence. “Yourfared much better than you all.”
“Was it just you and the staff?” Greer asks.
“Horrible Emmett was here too,” Olive reminds her. he barking of“He’s not horrible,” Faith snaps. ages trooping“Oh god, did he try to seduce you?” Greer says. “I bet he’d say something s Bram, whoabout needing body heat to survive. The absolute cad.” She laughs, and it or the rest oftakes all I have to laugh along with her. Faith’s hands are still in my hair, and she tugs slightly harder as she finishes my braid. and Emmett“Don’t let Bram hear you say that,” Faith warns. you fare hereCamp is packed up quickly, everyone eager to be out of the forest and back to the warmth and comfort of the palace. st happened.It takes over ten hours to return to Kensington Palace, a miserable, bone- well. We’verattling day on mud-choked roads. It’s a relief to arrive back at Caledonia houlders. “ACottage and its copper tubs full of steaming water and perfumed oils. I scrub my skin until it’s red and stinging, like I can wash away the weight of n the huntingEmmett, but I only end up raw. call the staff
The next few days pass with each of us on edge, waiting for the queen’s next heir carriagelesson. Instead, we’re met with nothing but more of Viscountess olingbroke isBolingbroke’s etiquette lessons during the day and countless games of whist tching a dogat night. We don’t even see Bram, who seems preoccupied with his own social calendar.
I can’t stop thinking about what Eduart said about Emmett’s father.
Hastily, I write a note addressed to Emmett, saying simply, We need to speak, and pass it to Lottie, folded in with the rest of today’s post. ren’t entirelyFriday is the Hinchingbrooks’ annual garden party, and we’re all itching ugh the nightto get off palace grounds.
Greer, whoseThe palace tailors have made us all custom day dresses, each adorned with our birth flowers. As an October baby, mine is embroidered along the was going toneckline, hem, and sleeves with marigolds, bright pops of orange yellow rendered with such expert care I gasp upon seeing it. The rest of the dress is rder to studyconstructed of pale green moire silk. Lottie produces a matching headband, with two sweet yellow bows, one resting just above each ear. hes and wrapOlive’s pale blue dress is crawling with larkspurs, Marion’s with daisies, h other’s hairFaith’s with paperwhites that look vaguely bridal.
The party is hosted at the Hinchingbrooks’ sprawling gardens. They’ve unds as if wehung crystal chandeliers from the trees, set out delicate tables with pastel petit fours, and tied rainbows of ribbons from eaves and balconies and hedges.
We mingle for hours as the orchestra plays cheery melodies that float through the gardens. ay somethingI’ve got a mouth full of cake, and I’m standing in the rose garden when a aughs, and ittug at my sleeve startles me. I turn to see Emmett, standing in the brilliant sun my hair, andin a cobalt-blue coat with gold piping. He looks every inch the prince today, his hair finally tamed and no longer falling across his forehead. It’s the first time I’ve seen him since the disastrous hunting party, and relief floods he forest andthrough me at the sight of his face. But then comes that familiar ache, right in the center of my chest. It would be better if I could forget the sharp line of his erable, bone-jaw, the tiny wrinkle at the corners of his eyes, his dark lashes, his full mouth. at CaledoniaHis face is stony, like he doesn’t feel anything looking at me. d oils. I scrub“Downstairs drawing room, five minutes,” he whispers, and then he is he weight ofstrolling across the garden again, like we never spoke at all.
I weave my way through the party and, five minutes later, find the door to the Hinchingbrooks’ drawing room down a quiet side hallway.
queen’s nextInside, the curtains are drawn and the furniture is covered in white sheets.
ViscountessI pace around for a minute or two until the knob turns and Emmett strides in. mes of whist“Good afternoon, Lady Ivy,” he says. with his own“Are we back to formalities after we—” We shared a bed, touched in the dark. I can’t bring myself to say it aloud. Emmett seems to be thinking the mett’s father.same thing, and a charged look passes between us. need toWe pause as we hear footsteps in the hall. Then the door swings open with a bang and Bram comes crashing in. I dive behind the sofa, hidden from re all itchinghis view. He closes the door behind him and clicks the lock. Emmett goes still, shocked and silent. adornedBram’s jaw clenches. “I’m not a fool. It’s time we finally spoke about
red along thewhat’s going on.”
range yellow
f the dress is ng headband,
with daisies,
ens. They’ve
s with pastel alconies and
ies that float
arden when a
e brilliant sun
prince today,
It’s the first
relief floods
ache, right in
arp line of his is full mouth.
nd then he is
nd the door to
Inside, the curtains are drawn and the furniture is covered in white sheets.
I pace around for a minute or two until the knob turns and Emmett strides in.
“Good afternoon, Lady Ivy,” he says.
“Are we back to formalities after we—” We shared a bed, touched in the dark. I can’t bring myself to say it aloud. Emmett seems to be thinking the same thing, and a charged look passes between us.
We pause as we hear footsteps in the hall. Then the door swings open with a bang and Bram comes crashing in. I dive behind the sofa, hidden from his view. He closes the door behind him and clicks the lock. Emmett goes still, shocked and silent.
Bram’s jaw clenches. “I’m not a fool. It’s time we finally spoke about what’s going on.”
