Page 29 of The Court the Fae Forgot
He kept his hand in my hair and on my neck, suffocating me between jolts of pain as my hair threatened to rip from my head with every step as he marched me back up to the cottage. For one, awful, moment, I wondered if we’d been seen in the river—the dark fae and I.
Even as I thought it, I knew it wasn’t what drove my father to his present madness, or my sister to fill the air with more shouts for me to escape—however late those pleas might be.
What had passed between me and the fae was nothing more than some kind of delusion. A delusion brought on by the same faerie magic that had been calling to me from the Wildness for weeks now, but a delusion all the same. For all I knew, that fae didn’t even exist.
He’d said himself that he was the forest, he was the Wildness.
Nothing more. Nothing less.
But I couldn’t think of what else might bring my father to drag me up the hill behind my mother doing the same to Ada. My heart ached at the sight of her, arms flailing as my mother ignored my sister’s wails piercing the night like a banshee. The sound flooded through me, weighing me down with a dread I’d never felt before.
My father’s grip on my neck was too tight for me to turn my head to look at him, so it wasn’t until he’d shoved me roughly to the floor inside the cottage that I was able to see the look on his face. And as soon as I did, I wished I hadn’t.
I could have happily gone my whole life without seeing the rage, the utter hatred, that twisted the features sneering down at me.
Behind him, my mother had both her arms wrapped around Ada as she pulled my sister flush against the wall, her own face a mixture of fear and fury that only made my heart beat faster.
I didn’t dare open my mouth to speak, to ask what was going on, not when I was still spluttering to regain my breath after my father had nearly crushed my windpipe in the march back up the hill. Each gagging, coughing draw of air only made my father’s teeth grit tighter together.
“Shut up, you ungratefulbitch,” he snarled at me, hands reaching for the belt at his waist. “You had this coming for you.”
Ada let out another wail as she struggled to free herself from my mother’s grasp, but it was no use.
I’d seen my father angry before, but never like this. His hands were shaking with rage he tugged the belt from its loops so forcefully that the end flew out and let out a loud, crisp snap like the cracking of a whip. I couldn’t help the way my body flinched at the sound. I wasn’t the only one, either.
Ada had finally gone silent, her eyes wide with horror as my father advanced on me. I cowered back from him, my exhausted arms trying to pull me away from his flickering shadow as it grew to encase me.
It was futile. All I managed to do was corner myself against the cottage wall, my back pressed to it as I looked up at my father like a trapped animal.
The leather of his belt stretched and crackled as he twisted it between his hands.
“You really thought you could get away with it, did you? Robbing me blind? What were you going to do, try to run away?”
I blinked up at him in surprise. How did he know? He couldn’t know. I’d not told anyone of my plans. I hadn’t so much as allowed myself to stow away an extra crust of bread for fear it would get me caught.
“See, she doesn’t even deny it!” my father roared, half turning to glare at my mother and sister, still entangled together at the far end of the cottage. In his rage, he dug deep into his pockets until his trembling fingers dragged out a small, jingling purse of coins.
The moment I saw it, any attempt to refute my father’s accusation died before it had so much as fully formed. A familiar golden ribbon tied the purse closed, but no matter how long I stared at the bag my father waved inches in front of my nose, it was like my brain refused to register it.
The coins … the purse … how was it here?
I’d seen it stolen, seen the fox pick it up between his teeth and disappear into the depths of the forest. I’d run after it, nearly lost myself in those same woods, unless that too had been a delusion.
Across the room, my sister pulled against the arms restraining her. Her eyes had grown wild, her voice high and breathless.
“I told him, Aurra,” Ada called out, despite my mother’s attempts to clamp a hand over her mouth. “A fox brought it back. I saw it. I swear I did.”
I was speechless.
I gaped at my sister as I struggled to comprehend what she was saying.
A fox … a fox brought it back?
Surely not the same fox that had taken it. I was just beginning to convince myself itwasn’ta fox that stole the purse in the first place.
I wracked my brain, trying to remember if I’d told Ada how I’d lost the money. I had to. I must have; it was the only way she could have come up with this story to try and save me.
But I didn’t.
