4. Chapter 4
4
Zara
H atred seethed out of my pores as I marched between the two men, away from my home and away from my family—dysfunctional as it was. This could not be happening.
But as I walked back into the woods, helpless to defeat these magical beings, I couldn’t tell if I hated them or my father more.
I’d known about his bargain since I was six years old, when Papá sat me down and told me about it against my mother’s wishes. It hadn’t made sense to me then, and over the years—other than my weapons training and my father’s unusual spurts of affection around my birthday—the bargain was never again mentioned except once. I was fifteen. My father had just betrothed himself to Nina after seven years as a widower. He had allowed me to be present while he told Nina of the curse on my life. She, of course, was appalled, but my father’s wealth beckoned louder than her fears. I would never forget the way she looked at me that night, as her expression of horrified shock transformed into one of quiet delight. In those eyes, her intentions were plain: she hoped to give birth to the heir who would inherit Papá’s fortune, and I would be left to the whims of fate.
I stopped walking, too rattled by the reality that was starting to sink in.
The well-dressed fae I hadn’t stabbed, Felipe, paused before he crashed into me, but I could feel his breath over my shoulder.
I whirled on him, elbow first, and rejoiced as his eyes closed in the tiniest flash of discomfort. It might not have hurt his immortal, perfect body much, but at least I’d surprised him. His friend, marked by two bloodstains I’d given him, smirked.
“I can’t go with you,” I blurted out.
Felipe’s brown lips curled like drying apple peel. “You don’t have a choice. Your life belongs to the Shadow Court.”
I looked him up and down. Between his ostentatious black suit and baked-in look of disdain, he definitely seemed like he belonged in the shadows. “You said my father made the bargain twenty years ago. But twenty years ago, I wasn’t born yet.”
The man’s onyx eyes sparked as he shot a look at the other fae. “How old are you?” he asked me, eyes attempting to puncture me with their intensity.
My stomach knotted. “Nineteen.” It was true. At least for a handful of hours.
The other fae moved so quietly I spooked like a horse as his shirt brushed against my upper arm. “You can’t be nineteen. You are Zara Valencia Calderon, and you were born this day twenty years ago.”
These creeps knew my name.
“The time for your life in the mortal realm has come to an end,” he continued. “My father requires you at his court.”
“ Your father?” I glanced between him and the suited fae.
His thick brows lifted. “We really don’t have time for questions. We can compel you to follow us, but we’d hoped you’d come willingly.”
I shook my head, desperation mounting.
The fae sighed. He was so tall that my head only reached to his collarbone, even though he slouched with his neck tipped sideways and his hips at a lazy tilt.
“The problem is, if you don’t come with us on the twentieth anniversary of your birth, your father will have failed to uphold his end of the bargain. You know what happens to people who do that?” He leaned forward so his eyes were nearly level with mine. “They die.”
A shudder rocked my entire body. Rage and fear and hate, like too much chili pepper poured into a dish, mixed and turned my blood to fire.
The man in the white shirt started walking again, as if he’d solved my dilemma and there would be no more arguing. When I didn’t follow, he turned around with a huff of anger and stormed back to me.
“Do you want your father to die?”
After a moment of stunned silence, I fumbled out, “I was—I was born one hour before midnight. That’s…it’s…technically, as of this hour, twenty years ago, I wasn’t born yet.”
The prince—for that’s what I assumed he was—frowned. “But it is the day of your birth.” He almost sounded pleased I was arguing with them.
Felipe cleared his throat. “It’ll be dawn in a few hours, sweetheart, and we are to have you and the others back at court before the night is done.”
“You can’t take me until my twenty years are complete. I have until one hour before midnight,” I nearly shouted. My voice came out sturdier than I felt, but I lifted my chin and inhaled loudly to drive home the point.
The two men exchanged a glance. Then, the prince whose father was apparently the ruler of the Shadow Court, pinched his lower lip between his perfectly white teeth, deliberating.
Desperation churned inside me. “If I don’t show up to my birthday celebration tonight, people will ask questions.”
“People will ask questions, eh?” The prince’s smirk fanned the flames in my blood. “I’m ever so worried about mortals’ questions .” He sighed and ran a hand through his floppy hair. “But she’s right,” he said, startling the sneer off my face.
The suited man snorted and turned aside.
“At one hour to midnight, your time here will end,” the prince continued. He winked at me, sending a shiver of disgust over every bit of my exposed skin. “You have your request, but when the time is up, you will come with us. You can’t run from the shadows, se?orita Valencia. So don’t even try.”
As I stumbled into my bedroom not five minutes later, I was out of breath. My hands shook so violently, I couldn’t light the candle by my bedside. I pulled away the mosquito netting that surrounded my bed, shoved aside the pile of cushions meant to mimic my body under the covers, and crawled onto my tall bed. My mind rang with the words of the shadow fae. At one hour to midnight, your time here will end.
I punched one of the pillows lined up under the covers then flopped on top of them, crying silently.
“Spare me, please,” came a deep voice from the corner of my room.
I screamed like a little girl running from a spider.
Without thinking, I hurled a pillow at the voice, but it only knocked into the netting and bounced back onto the bed. Through the faint silvery sheen of the net, I couldn’t see anyone in the dark.
One of my daggers was outside the net, resting on my bedside table. The gossamer fabric felt like a cage around me, keeping me from my weapon. My eyes darted to the blade, but before I lunged for it, I sensed movement in the shadows.
Swatting away the curtain, I growled low through my teeth as a hand, dark as the inky night sky, slipped over the hilt of the blade.
“You won’t be stabbing me again, I’m afraid.”
The voice of the prince sounded from the darkness, but no one was there. My room was painted in shades of gray and black, lit only by the moonlight falling in from the tall windows on two sides.
I saw no one.
“Where are you?” I couldn’t keep the tremor of fear from my voice as I slid my hand onto my bedside table. My fingers closed over the cool handle of my brush. In a pinch, it could serve as a weapon.
“Everywhere.”
“That’s poetic.”
A satisfied hmm emerged from the darkness. He was moving, but I still couldn’t see him.
“Let go of my knife.”
“I don’t like getting stabbed by iron.”
My pulse raged in my ears like the jangling belts of the belly dancers in the market square. “You didn’t seem too bothered by it earlier.” If this fae wasn’t affected by iron, then I’d wasted my money having an iron dagger forged.
The darkness chuckled, and I shivered despite the sweat on my back. Each long second that he remained silent, the muscles in my chest tightened.
After a minute, my fear burst out. “Are you going to stay hidden, or will you show your face?”
“You are afraid,” came the prince’s deep voice.
My father had tried to teach me to conceal my emotions, but I’d mostly been terrible at it—at least, according to his continual lack of approval. Never good enough. Never stoic enough. Never unfeeling enough. I’d assumed it was because he wanted me to fit into proper society, where women were expected to remain quiet and demure at all times, but perhaps it was because he didn’t want the fae to be able to read me so easily.
A frenzied knock at my bedroom door triggered another small yelp—I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been so jumpy. A soft chuckle from the shadows made my upper lip curl as I hurried into bed, spending five agonizing seconds tangling once again in the frustrating net.
The door opened, and I went still as a statue, despite my heart trying to explode from my chest. Candlelight flooded the room, and my eyes did a quick survey of every corner. No one was there.
The upstairs housemaid poked her head in. “Everything all right, se?orita?”
If her definition of all right included being stalked by shadows as they awaited the moment they could steal me from the mortal world, just as my father agreed so many years ago, sure, I was fine.
For a split second, I thought about screaming again, telling her to wake the guards and muster the troops—we didn’t actually have any troops—and ring every alarm bell in Leor until this sticky shadow fae was lying in pieces in the woods somewhere and I could go back to normal life.
But then my father would die.
And, though my thoughts toward him at this moment were muddy and painful, I couldn’t breathe at the thought of him dying. So I nodded, forced a smile, and dismissed the maid.
“Good girl,” the man said as soon as the door closed.
I sat up in bed, scanning the room until my eyes fixed on the silver flash of moonlight on a twirling blade. My blade.
He sat—no, lounged—in the chair before my dressing table, which was half-turned toward the enormous windows overlooking the western side of the estate, one leg hooked over the armrest while his head was tilted back against the ornate wing of the chair.
“I hate you,” I blurted, lacking anything more intelligent to say to him.
“I’d be disappointed if you didn’t. It’ll make everything much more fun.”
My throat tried to close up. I wanted to ask him what he meant by everything , but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I didn’t really want to know what these fae had in store for me. Not yet. After all, I’d marry in a few hours, and maybe that would be enough to break the curse.
I flung the covers off and hopped out of bed. I would not be sleeping in the presence of this pointy-eared creature.
“Where do you think you’re going?” he drawled, not moving from his relaxed position.
Sweat blanketed my back, and I was nowhere near sleepy. “If I only have one day left before you—before I go, then I’m not going to waste time sleeping.”
“You don’t have to sleep, but then I wouldn’t touch any doors or windows, if I were you. They’ve been enchanted to put you into a very deep sleep.”
I glared at the door to my bedroom, as if I could see the magic infused in the wood. He might be lying. But fae weren’t supposed to be able to lie. I sighed heavily.
“I really hate you.”
His shadowy features broke into a smile, then he stood. “I’m thrilled by your level of affection toward me, but I really must be going.”
I blinked. “You’re leaving?” Hope filled my chest.
“I only needed to escort you back here and place my enchantments. Now that you’re trapped in here, I’m free to go.” He moved toward the window. “I don’t have time to sit around with you all night. The enchantment will shift to include the entire house when the sun comes up so you can move about your day. I’m generous like that. But you won’t be able to run.” With hands braced against the window casing, he looked back at me. “I will return tonight. Look for me. My name is Casimiro. Oh, and happy birthday, Zara Valencia.”
Before I could so much as clench my jaw, he was gone, dissipating into the night like smoke and taking my dagger with him.