Page 15 of The Court the Fae Forgot
It was better this way, anyway. Whatever the fae had to say, it couldn’t be good. Nothing good ever came from the fae, that much was certain—and my experiences from the day had done nothing to dispel the belief.
The excitement in my father’s voice only further cemented that idea in my mind. I had more than a nagging suspicion that anything that made him happy was bound to mean trouble for me.
It always did.
I let the motion of the broom lull me into a kind of trance only broken by the sound of the front door thudding down below. Dust shook down from the rafters, filling the air with a haze as Ada jumped to her feet and pointed toward the single, tiny round window that overlooked the front of the cottage from between our beds. We rushed over to it together, jostling into place to watch the fae stride out into the moonlight down below.
He walked straight up to his horses, patting them and pulling out some treats from his pocket. The horses’ soft whinnies carried up through the glass, so thorough was their happiness. The soft light of the moon illuminated a smile creasing the fae’s cheeks as he bent close to press his forehead to one of the mare’s, his lips moving as he whispered something to her. It was a surprisingly sweet scene, a private one too. I suddenly felt as if I was intruding on something I shouldn’t be, a shared moment between friends not meant for my sorry, human eyes.
I found myself prying myself away from the window, pulling Ada with me despite her own protestations. She only stopped wriggling when, just in time, our mother reappeared in the doorway, her narrowed eyes taking in the sight of us standing in the middle of the room with suspicion.
Outside, the silence of the night was drowned out by the sound of the carriage finally pulling away. Only then did something like relief begin to stir in the air, at the final sign that the creature that had invaded what little peace we shared was finally gone.
Before she could find some new reason to reproach me, I let Ada go and crossed to shove the broom—a little too forcefully, I knew—back into my mother’s hands. “I’ve finished,” I said, knowing full well that any progress I might have made would soon be undone with the dust still settling, as it always did with the slamming of the front door, onto every surface of the tiny loft.
Her disapproving gaze combed across the room, scanning the scratched floorboards and worn blankets until it finally came to rest, once again on me. For all her claims that the fae was not here for any reason to do with me, the despise with which she regarded me spoke volumes otherwise.
“Go get started on the cart, then,” she snarled. “You know how it gets after a whole day under the trees at market. And be certain not to disturb your father on your way out. He’s enough cups to make up after all the trouble you’ve caused us today.”
I couldn’t help myself.
“So, itismy fault?”
“It’s always your fault,” she snapped back, shoving the broom back into my hands so forcefully that splinters began to dig into my calloused hands. “Sweep the path while you’re at it. I don’t want to see a single fae footprint when I go back out there tomorrow.”
It’s always your fault.
That, I couldn’t argue.
Itwasalways my fault, even when it wasn’t. But for once, however that had somehow come to be, this was. If this was my only punishment, however, then I could count myself lucky.
I’d barely stepped outside, the door creaking louder than the stairs had behind me, when any notion of luck abandoned me.
The carriage had not gone, after all. It remained, and with it, so did the fae.
CHAPTERSEVEN
The fae had stoppedat the very edge of the road, where the branches of the forest began to dip low over the top of the gilded carriage. It wasn’t until I saw him step out from inside, the moonlight catching on that mischievous smile of his as he laid eyes on me, that I wondered for the first time who drove the carriage.
Unless I was mistaken, andno onedrove the carriage.
The horses simply … steered themselves.
I had no time to wonder at this, to try and work out if it was instructions that the fae had been whispering to his steeds when Ada and I had been watching him, because he was regarding me so intently now that I could think of nothing else.
There was an intensity in his golden eyes as he watched me that told me this was no chance meeting. He wasn’t surprised.
He was waiting here, for me.
As if to dispel any doubt, he tilted his head down slightly. “I wondered how long it would take you.”
Any response I might have made died in my throat when, through the door behind me, I heard the sound of a pot clattering over and the string of loud swears that followed.
It wasn’t until I saw the fae’s eyes darken that I realized the sound had made me flinch.
His gaze flickered back to the door at my back for just a second before settling again on me. “It’s not smart for simple humans to meddle in the matters of the fae.”
His voice was low but fierce, the warning in it all too familiar.
