Chapter 11
ELEVEN
CAIRN
The female clearly thinks I’m mad. Her hands are clasped in her lap, fingers twisting together, and she’s looking at me as though I’m a wild animal that has just told her I plan to walk into a hunter’s trap.
Which, in a sense, is my plan.
Voices drift up to the window from the street below.
Male. Two of them. I lean forward a little, searching for the source.
They’re further down the street, talking to someone outside another building.
I tilt my head, focusing past the noise of the inn, the murmur of conversation rising from the common room, and the sound of the female’s breathing.
“—to check every establishment. Anyone who has a fae, we need to see their ownership papers.”
“The orders have come down from the crown itself.”
“After what happened with the young girl, the Dell should be investigated. Last thing anyone needs is one of those monsters running loose.”
Those monsters. Running loose.
My lip curls. If we were running loose, they wouldn’t be standing on street corners complaining about it. They’d be dying on them.
“What is it?” Her voice comes from behind me. I glance back. She’s moved from the bed and is near my shoulder, trying to see what I’m looking at.
The innkeeper’s voice joins the guards. They’re outside now, almost below the window.
“I run a respectable place. We have no trouble here.”
“We’re not suggesting anything else, madam. It’s a routine check. Anyone with a fae, we need to verify ownership, check their papers, and make sure everything is in order.”
“Most of my guests are farmers and merchants. They have no need for fae toys.”
“Most … but not all?”
There’s a pause before she answers, and when she does, I can hear the reluctance to cause trouble in her voice. “There’s a noblewoman … she arrived yesterday with a fae pet.”
“Then if you’ll direct us to her room, we’ll do a quick check. I’m sure it’ll be nothing but a formality.”
“I won’t have you bothering her without good cause. The poor thing has been through enough.”
“The papers are the cause, madam. After the trouble at the Dell, every fae in the area needs to be accounted for. There can be no exceptions.”
I turn from the window.
“There are guards here, checking fae ownership papers.”
Her expression shifts, the worry in her eyes replaced by something brighter. Her gaze darts toward the door.
“I’d think about it before you scream for help.” I make no move to stop her.
She freezes, mouth half-open.
“You told the serving girl here I was your pet. You told the seamstress your father bought me. You spent the night in a room with me.” I watch the words hit, one by one. “What do you think the guards will see when they find us? A kidnapped princess … or a woman who helped a fae animal escape?”
The color drains from her face. “I didn’t help you at all! You took me.”
“I know that. You know that … but they don’t. You’ve had every opportunity to scream for help, or run. Instead, you bought me clothes, you sat in the inn and ate, while I knelt at your feet. You played the part of a woman with her favorite pet so convincingly that no one looked twice.”
“Because you made me—”
“Did I? Was I holding a knife to your throat in the store? Or downstairs? Did I force you to tell the innkeeper I belonged to you?” I tilt my head, smiling. “You fed me from your hand … by your own choice.”
She’s shaking now. I can see her working through it, trying to find a way out that doesn’t exist.
“The Dell knows what really happened,” I continue.
“They know a fae escaped with the king’s daughter.
They’re going to try and keep the real details private.
It’s bad for business to have prey turn on their patrons.
But if you show up now, with me, after days together?
How will your father feel when he hears that his daughter has been aiding an escaped fae by buying it clothes and openly sharing its bed? ”
“He wouldn’t believe that! He knows me. He knows I would never—”
“Would he? How do you explain why you didn’t sneak off while I was sleeping?”
At the edge of my attention, I track the sound of the guards as they move through the inn downstairs.
“When they come up here, they’re going to knock on the door. If no one answers, with their orders, they have the authority to force it open. They won’t wait for permission.”
She swallows, her eyes jumping between me and the door.
“They need to see something that makes them leave, without stopping to ask questions or looking too closely.”
“What would—” Her face changes. “No.”
I just stare at her.
She shakes her head.
“What do you think they’ll do if they walk in on a noblewoman while her fae services her? They’ll apologize and leave. They won’t demand papers from a woman who’s been caught in the middle of something that’s whispered about but never acknowledged openly.”
“No!” She backs away from me. “Absolutely not. There has to be another way.”
“There isn’t.”
“There’s always another way. We could … I could tell them I lost the papers. Or that they were stolen with everything else, when the bandits—”
“And when they ask to examine me? When they look closely and discover I’m not what I’m pretending to be?
How long do you think a glamour will hold up under such close inspection?
” The truth is, at full strength, nothing would be able to break through a glamour I make.
But I don’t have access to my full powers, so all I can manage is a shallow cover.
One that will break if they look too hard.
She’s still shaking her head, but she knows I’m right. She just doesn’t want to admit it.
I reach for the hem of my shirt and pull it over my head. My face stays blank. This part is easy. I’ve done it so many times, my hands don’t even hesitate.
And I hate that. I hate how the compliance lives in my muscles, carved there by centuries of repetition. I hate that my body learned to obey no matter how much my mind objected. Every noblewoman who ever crooked her finger at me left her mark in this … this reflexive submission.
Her eyes go wide, and she takes another step back, hitting the wall. “No. Don’t.”
“Take off your top.”
“I can’t. I won’t. You can’t make me.”
“I can.” I close the distance between us in two long strides.
She flinches, pressing herself harder against the wall, but there’s nowhere for her to go.
“I could strip you myself and hold you down until they open the door. I could make you scream and they’d only hear sounds of pleasure. Is that what you want?”
Tears fill her eyes. “Please don’t do this.”
“I don’t want to do this.” My voice comes out harsh. “Do you think I want to touch you? You … a human female.” My lip curls. “I’ve had centuries of human hands on my body, mouths on my skin, and being made to perform on command like a trained dog. Do you really think I’m eager to do it again?”
She stares at me, her lips parted, the tears spilling over onto her cheeks.
“I’m doing this for survival. Nothing more. Now, take off your shirt and get on the bed, or I’ll do it for you.”
Below us, the guards have finished talking to people in the common room, and are moving toward the stairs.
Her hands shake as they lift to the laces on the front of her tunic. She’s crying silently, tears running down her face, and her fingers keep tangling in the ties. She’s taking too long.
I reach out and brush her hands aside. She flinches at the contact, but doesn’t pull away. I unlace her shirt quickly, the same way I’ve undressed countless human noblewomen before, although with far more speed involved than seduction this time.
The fabric falls open, revealing the shadow between her breasts. She’s breathing too fast, her chest rising and falling rapidly, while rage is a living thing in my chest, fed by every set of laces I’ve undone, every body I’ve had to service.
I hook my fingers under the material and slide it off her shoulders, then unlace the tightly fitted undergarment beneath. She makes a sound, a small protest, as the fabric falls down her arms, baring her breasts. They’re pale, soft, with nipples tight from cold or fear. She moves to cover herself.
I catch her wrists. “Don’t.”
“Please—”
“They need to see a woman who’s in control.
If you’re covering yourself like a frightened maiden, they’ll know something is wrong.
” I keep my grip tight on her wrists, holding them at her sides.
“When that door opens, you need to look like you’re lost in pleasure.
Can you do that, or do I need to do it for you? ”
She stares at me out of those wet eyes, her lower lip trembling.
“Alleria.” I snap her name, and part of me notes that it’s the first time I’ve said it. “Can you do that?”
“I … I don’t know.” Her voice is barely a whisper.
“Get on the bed.” I release her wrists.
She doesn’t move, standing against the wall, half-naked and trembling, tears falling down her cheeks.
I take her arm and guide her toward the bed. She moves like a sleepwalker, her feet dragging, her body resistant but not fighting. When the back of her knees hit the mattress, I push her down onto it.
She lands on her back, arms instinctively coming to cover her chest again. I shake my head, catch her wrists, and pin them above her head.
“Don’t,” I say again.
I kneel over her, my knees on either side of her hips, one hand wrapped around her wrists. Her breasts rise and fall with each panicked breath. She looks terrified.
The boots are almost at the top of the stairs.
I think of the first woman who ever selected me from the cages.
Lady Ashworth. Of all of them, her name is the only one I remember.
She purchased me a year after the Sealing, two weeks after my capture.
I was wounded, weak, still reeling from blood loss.
She was wealthy, bored, and curious about what a fae could do in bed.