Chapter 29
THE TREE MAN halted, eyes on something behind me.
A single green leaf fluttered to the ground, jiggled loose by his jarring stop.
Another fell as he spun on his heel and thundered off in a new direction without a backward glance.
That was close. Close enough that my life should’ve flashed before my eyes.
The inane thought snapped me out of it.
What’d stopped him?
I peered over my shoulder.
Gwen stood ten steps behind me. Armed to the teeth, she wore her usual stern glare. Still, she didn’t strike me as that scary. Soren had mentioned her tattoos made her a redcap. Redcaps must’ve had a more serious reputation than I’d realized . . .
I hurried over to her.
“This isn’t a coincidence, is it?” I asked once I was beside her and could finally take a deep breath. Because what were the odds that I would run into all of Soren’s friends in the last few hours?
Gwen didn’t try to hide her sigh. “You weren’t supposed to see me.”
She’d just confirmed my suspicions. “Did Soren tell you guys to keep tabs on me?”
“I have no idea what that human phrase means.” Gwen crossed her arms, then added, “But if you’re wondering if he asked us to make sure you weren’t harmed, then yes.”
“I don’t get it . . .” I chewed on my lip. It was thoughtful. And frankly, it would’ve saved me a couple heart attacks if I’d known I wasn’t on my own sooner. “Why wouldn’t he want me to know?”
“You know how some human females are about accepting help from males.”
I wrinkled my nose and squinted at her. “What?”
“It ruins their all-males-are-the-worst narrative.”
Pulling my lips into my mouth, I tried not to react, but I snorted a little.
“What do you find funny about what I said?” Gwen scowled.
I tried to stop the smile, pressing my lips together. “Nothing . . . I actually, well, I guess I see your point. I’ve just never heard anyone say it quite like that before.”
She shrugged and turned to leave.
“Wait,” I called after her. “Want to stay? Since, you know, I blew your cover and all?”
Another shrug. “Why not.” She dropped onto a bench at a half-full table. All the fae sitting there stood and left in a hurry. She didn’t seem to notice. I stared at their retreating backs, then lowered myself onto the bench beside her.
“Um . . . Can I ask a question?” I dared to speak up.
“Of course.” Gwen’s mere presence scared away fae that looked like they could snap her in half, so this might be a bad idea, but she didn’t seem intimidating to me.
I decided to risk it. “Do I come across like one of those girls who wouldn’t accept help?”
True to form, she considered me before answering logically. “I haven’t known you long, but you hid details from Soren, confided in Caius of all folk before trusting us”—she said his name the way someone might talk about dog poop—“and probably most telling, you came to the Hollow Court alone.”
Gwen made fair points, but it still stung.
“Maybe I just don’t know who to trust,” I muttered.
“Reasonable,” she agreed, surprising me. “If it helps, you can trust me. What’s your plan when you talk to the little prince?”
I drew a deep breath. “I’m going to ask him for my family’s contracts.”
“And when he says no?”
“Wh-what makes you think he’ll say no?” I spluttered, and my voice rose in pitch. “He seemed willing to help me when I told him about them before . . .”
“He’s not nearly as self-sacrificing as he’s led you to believe.” Gwen crushed my hopes. “You need a better plan.”
I cleared my throat and nodded. “You’re right.
” But off the top of my head, I only had one idea.
“He told Soren that he needed to know why they were important. Obviously, Soren couldn’t tell him the truth, but I was thinking .
. . As long as there isn’t a toddy wobble around, I could tell him a lie. ”
“What lie?”
“I have no idea,” I whispered. Though it stretched me farther outside my comfort zone than meeting fae princes, seeing trolls, or even visiting the fae world altogether, I made myself ask, “Can you help me?”
Gwen’s stern face lit up in excitement. She twisted to face me. “I excel at strategy,” she said with zero humility. “Let’s form a plan.”
***
When someone loudly announced Caius’s name, I jumped up. He’d returned to court solo and didn’t seem in a hurry to return to his throne, speaking to someone near the entrance. I stood taller and strode in his direction, trying to project confidence like Gwen had instructed.
She’d come up with a much better plan than mine: I’d convince Caius that these were the humans who’d stolen from me. He’d practically given me the story himself the day we’d met.
Gwen gave me a firm nod of support when I glanced back. Bolstering myself, I approached the prince as he finished his conversation, intercepting him before he could climb back up the steps. “I need to speak with you.”
He arched a black brow, not smiling. Maybe because I’d rejected him the last time we spoke. “You have my attention.”
“Remember those humans I was looking for?” I poured the words out in a rush, careful to use the word “humans” instead of “people” like Gwen had reminded me.
Spots of my story came out a bit awkward, but Caius didn’t say a word until I finished.
“That’s why I need them. As soon as possible, which I’m sure you can understand. ”
“What will you give me for them?”
Yes! Internally, I cheered.
Keeping my expression calm, I said, “Obviously, I’ll send three humans of my own to replace them. And I was thinking a fourth human for the rush, of course.”
It’d been Gwen’s idea to pretend I had humans of my own to trade. It was genius. He wouldn’t know I’d lied until we were long gone.
“Fascinating,” Caius murmured, staring over my shoulder, then turning an unblinking gaze back on me.
Strange reaction, but okay. I tried to roll with it. “I could double the number if you’d prefer.”
His eyes narrowed. “Do that again.”
“Um . . . Do what?”
Advancing on me, he invaded my space until his hot breath brushed my cheeks as he said, “Lie to me again.”