CHAPTER TWO
Charles’s grip was unyielding, digging into my arm so painfully that it distracted me from my smarting, bleeding palm.
“Charlie, please!” I cried, but he ignored me, his expression stiff, his eyes locked straight ahead.
The night air nipped at the exposed skin of my arms and face. Heavy cloud cover blocked the stars, and a frosty hint on the wind threatened snow. It was not a night to be out in nothing but my short-sleeved gown. There hadn’t been time to search for my jacket after chaos had ensued.
Everything was a hazy blur in my mind, even though mere minutes had passed since the incident at the ball. Black ice. Biting cold. Shattering glass splintering in my hand and warm blood, shockingly bright and red against the frosty darkness surrounding me.
Screams had filled my ringing ears, and I’d stumbled, slipping on the ice. When I’d whirled to search the room for Garrick, sure he’d been the cause of the strange winter magic, Charles had been there instead, seizing my arm and whispering furiously into my ear. “Walk. Now.”
The people of Altidvale had panicked, fleeing the ballroom as if they were under attack. And no one was searching for the gold-eyed fae I’d danced with, the one they hadn’t even noticed. No, their horrified, accusatory gazes had all pinned on me.
Now, teeth chattering and breath steaming before me, I stared down at my bleeding hand. The cuts were shallow, but they still stung. I didn’t conjure that ice, I thought, even as another shiver rippled down my spine. I’d been afraid and consumed by cold, but I was sure that was due to Garrick’s presence. For the past year I’d been accused of being part-fae and dangerous, but I’d never manifested any magic before, never had any reason to suspect I could do anything unusual.
It wasn’t mine, I insisted to myself again, trying to nudge aside all lingering doubts.
The rattling of carriage wheels and the clop of horse hooves echoed through the street, but they were all heading the opposite direction that Charles and I walked. While the rest of the townspeople hurried toward the warmth and safety of home, my brother was dragging me to the foot of the mountains, toward the barrier that marked the gap between our mortal world and that of the fae. If Charles threw me beyond the border, he’d be leaving me for the fae. Altidvale’s agreements would bar anyone from coming for me—not that anyone would want to. And I could try to return—if a fae didn’t find and claim me first—but what would I be returning to if Charles refused to let me go home?
“Please, Charles—” I began again, my throat already raw from pleas and sobs that had fallen on deaf ears.
His jaw was rigid, and his eyes remained straight ahead, dark and fuming with the blackest emotion I’d ever seen from him. The final threads of his vow to Father—the last of his restraint that kept him from tossing me out—had frayed.
“I knew you were a monster,” he growled, but he seemed to be speaking more to himself than to me. “Perhaps you spent all this time glamouring everyone to love you.” He sneered. “You’re a danger, and you betrayed us all. Did you always plot to take us lowly humans unaware with your deadly magic? Have you always hated us?”
“Charles, I would never—”
“I’m marrying Miss Eggerton, and you will not live under the same roof as her, terrorizing and threatening her with your dark magic.” His fingers dug in deeper, and I yelped in pain, thrashing in vain against the strength of his grip.
“I’m your sister!”
“You are not my blood!” Charles screamed, the words louder than the pounding of my own pulse in my ears. “We might have shared a mother, but that’s not enough, not when you’re clearly more fae than human. You’re not one of us—you’re one of them.”
Tears burned my eyes. I knew better than to cry. I’d grieved the loss of my brother months ago, as he’d grown more suspicious of me and all the ways he claimed I was different. Somewhere along the way, his fear had transformed into loathing. But once, he’d been my younger sibling. The one I’d tucked into bed at night and read stories to. The one I’d looked after.
Now, it was his turn to look after me, and he found the task to be a burden.
Charles dragged me toward the outskirts of our town, winding past shadowed buildings and up the incline that marked the edge of our world and the beginning of Brytwilde. The scent of evergreens enshrouded us, coming on a gust that rolled off the snow-capped mountains.
“Think of this as my last duty, my last act to protect you,” Charles bit out as he finally stopped, his own breath clouding the air. He loosened his hold on me, only a little, as he cast a glance over his shoulder. The warmth of candlelight gleaming through windows danced like distant fireflies, and my heart ached. “Altidvale will never accept you after your dangerous display back there. You belong in their world, in Silverfrost. That’s your home. They’ll accept you.”
My eyes burned. “That’s not true. That ice wasn’t from me. There was a—”
“Goodbye, Florentia,” Charles said, and he shoved me, hard.
I choked back a scream as something in the air flickered and a pulse of warmth, of power, flowed through me. When I struck the ground on the other side of the invisible barrier, I landed on a worn dirt path that wound upward, into the mountains.
With the air knocked from my lungs, it took me a moment to move, to even breathe. Struggling to inhale, I gaped up at Charles, whose expression changed for the briefest of seconds. Something wide-eyed, almost like regret, filled his eyes, and then his face became stony once more. “Never threaten us with your magic again,” he said, his voice low. “Go home. Leave us in peace.”
Charles lifted his gaze to the mountains. “Here is your gift!” he shouted. He knew the Silverfrost royalty would hear, whether through magic or spies, as he launched into the terrible words we’d been taught to recite if ever we sacrificed one of our own to the fae. “Rulers of winter, accept my offering freely and generously given, and in return, I plead your graciousness and goodwill upon my household and my town.” I knew what he would expect—to return the next morning to find a pile of gold awaiting near the barrier, or even a fae servant waiting to grant a single wish or blessing upon him as a sign of gratitude. “Come yourself or send one of your humble servants to fetch her, and may you welcome her warmly into your kingdom, where she belongs.”
Silently, he turned, stalking back toward home without glancing back.
“Charles!” I screamed, launching to my feet, determined to race back into Altidvale with him. If a fae didn’t murder me out here first, I’d freeze to death. Surely I could find someone in my mortal town who would take pity on me.
But when I charged forward, my hands struck something solid and hard, despite the fact that there was no visible wall. Staggering backward, hands smarting, I choked on a sob. The border. The fae must have enchanted it, ensuring that mortals who crossed into their world truly belonged to them. It wasn’t simply that our people were forbidden to retrieve their lost loved ones—they couldn’t do it without belonging to the fae as well. I couldn’t return to the human world.
A new chill swept through me, having nothing to do with the temperature.
Whether he knew it or not, Charles had left me to die.
I lost track of time as my brother’s form faded down the street. My mind whirled with panic and desperation. I pounded my fists against the barrier to no avail.
There was nothing to do but accept that I was trapped in Silverfrost, a fae kingdom known for its cruelty toward humans. I could lie down and wait to freeze, or I could turn and face my fate.
For a wild moment, I wondered if dying of exposure would be more peaceful than venturing deeper into Silverfrost and braving the fae. But I shook my head, refusing to entertain the notion. I couldn’t give up that easily. I had to search for shelter, and then I’d try to formulate a plan.
Wrapping my arms around myself, I trudged up the path, my slippers dislodging rocks and roots. Soon, evergreen boughs swayed overhead, blocking out the grey sky. In the thickening shadows, the cold grew icier, and my tears froze to my lashes. I swallowed back my mounting terror. Somehow, I had to find a place to wait out the frigid night.
I scanned the path, my eyes searching the trees edging it. They thickened into a forest, creaking in the wind. The shadows between them were too dark to discern anything but the occasional moving form or pair of gleaming eyes. I prayed those belonged to animals and not bloodthirsty fae or other monsters. If there is a path, surely it leads to one of their towns or dwellings. The fae would be eager to collect any humans who wandered beyond the barrier, whether to torment, enslave, or murder them.
A bitter laugh escaped me. Hoping for shelter among a people who would enjoy my misery seemed like madness, but at least that gave me a slim chance of survival. Maybe.
Footsteps on the path made me pause. They didn’t come from ahead, but from behind, making me hope—foolishly—that Charles had seen reason and returned for me. That he’d chosen to brave the dangers of Brytwilde rather than leave his elder sister to die here.
But those thoughts faded when I turned and found none other than Garrick approaching, his gold eyes bright in the dimness. This time, he wore a fur coat and was fully armed, like a hunter venturing through the woods in search of prey.
“There you are,” he said, as if he’d been scouring the town for me since Charles dragged me from the ballroom. He rushed forward, shucking off his coat and offering it to me.
“You!” The single word came out in a rush, full of accusation.
Garrick blinked, as if stunned.
“You’re the reason I’m here.” My teeth chattered, but I was too upset and distrustful to take the coat he still held out to me. Tears stung my eyes. “You unleashed that magic in the ballroom, framing me, and then you disappeared.”
His brow furrowed. “I can’t wield winter magic.” Without waiting for my response, he stepped forward and wrapped his coat around me tightly. I was shivering too violently to resist. It smelled of pine and earth and fresh mountain air, and it enveloped me in a warmth that sank into my bones.
Garrick scanned the path ahead. “We need to find shelter,” he said, taking my arm gently and guiding me forward.
My face was numb, making it difficult to speak through my cold lips. “Can I trust you?”
Garrick cast me a disparaging look. “Firstly, your people were already against you. Secondly, that magic was your own. And thirdly,” he added, his teeth flashing in the night as he grinned, “why would I give you a coat if I wanted you to die?” Before I could try to argue further, he added, “I left because I worried my presence was the reason you lost control of your magic. I didn’t think your people would be so rash as to cast you out after one incident, without a single question asked.”
My mind whirled, refusing to latch onto the idea that I had magic. Cold as I was, my resistance to walking with a stranger was swiftly breaking down in the face of my need for help to survive. I allowed Garrick to lead me forward. “Perhaps you want me to survive long enough to run and provide entertainment,” I suggested. “You told me you’re a hunter, after all.”
Still smiling, Garrick shook his head. “I wouldn’t do that to a magical creature like you, Starlight.”
I frowned but chose to ignore his nickname—reminding me of the way he’d said I had hair like starlight—and his insistence that I possessed magic. I was too overwhelmed. “He sold me to the Silverfrost family,” I muttered as Garrick drew me off the path and into the forest, shoving branches out of our way.
“Who?”
“Charles, my half-brother.” I sniffled, feeling pathetic, but Garrick didn’t offer me a pitying glance. Instead, he stared into the darkness, seeming to be mulling something over.
“There’ll be a penalty to pay if you don’t arrive on their doorstep soon,” he explained. “They’ll send some of their servants from the castle to find you. They may have already.”
A shiver darted down my spine despite the warmth of Garrick’s coat. “What will they want with me?” I breathed.
In the darkness, I couldn’t read Garrick’s expression. “It depends. With most humans? Slaves or entertainment. With you and your magic? I cannot say. They might accept you as one of their own.”
Might. I couldn’t risk my entire future on a chance.
“Is that where you’re taking me?” I asked, my voice tremulous.
Garrick hesitated, a long moment passing between us, and I was reminded that fae could not lie. “I am taking you to shelter, or you won’t survive the night. There’s a cabin not far from here that I often stay in. After that, we will decide what to do in the morning.”
I paused, contemplating his words. “What do you want to do?”
Garrick didn’t miss a beat as he pressed further into the woods. “Ensure your survival.”
“Why?”
This time, Garrick’s rich laughter echoed off the trees. “Because no one deserves to freeze to death simply for being different.”
I couldn’t argue with that. “Why were you in Altidvale?” I went on as the trees began to thin and starlight flooded through the forest canopy. We entered a glade covered in pine needles. Nearby, a stream burbled over stones, winding deeper into the wood.
“I told you. I wanted to join your ball.”
“Doesn’t Silverfrost offer entertainment?”
Garrick gestured to the cabin ahead of us, nestled on the edge of the glade. “This is where I’ve spent my nights for the past month. Wouldn’t you also be drawn to company?”
“Human company?” I asked pointedly.
Something flashed across his face—loneliness or pain, I wasn’t sure. “Any company.”
An icy breeze swept through the clearing, and I noticed the way Garrick flinched. I’d assumed up to this point that maybe his magic somehow kept him warm, and he didn’t need his coat. Apparently I’d been wrong. I picked up my pace, eager for the promise of shelter.
The cabin door creaked as Garrick swung it open, but the interior was cozy, if cramped. Other than a small washroom in the far corner, there was only one room, containing a fireplace and a bed layered in heavy blankets, a chest resting at its foot.
My eyes snagged on that bed, and my heart thundered in my chest. Until now, I’d been anxious for safety and a chance to survive. I hadn’t considered what it would mean to spend the night in such close quarters with a stranger.
Garrick might have saved my life, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t harm me later. I’d been taught all my life that the fae were cruel and deceitful. Their generosity generally came with a steep price. If Garrick was right and I did possess magic—outlandish as that was—then maybe he’d saved me in hopes of using me. Or maybe he was the one the royals had sent to fetch me after Charles had offered me to them. If he retrieved me for the crown, perhaps he’d receive a lavish reward.
I hovered near the door, rubbing my temples and willing my sluggish mind to work faster as Garrick clicked the door shut behind us and strode toward the fireplace. Silently, he built a fire from a stack of logs waiting on the hearth, leaving me alone to my thoughts.
We will decide what to do in the morning. As if Garrick would give me a say in my fate. I shivered.
“You’ll feel a draft by the doorway,” Garrick said, never taking his eyes off the flames he was coaxing to life. “I promise I won’t bite.” He smirked. “Not after we’ve only known each other for one day, anyway. Perhaps after two.”
Embarrassment stained my cheeks as I tried to decide if his jesting tone meant he was flirting with me. “What sort of promise is that?” I managed to choke out.
Garrick studied me, amusement still dancing in his expression. “Fae cannot lie, so I would say it’s worth far more than a mortal one. You can trust me when I say I won’t bite...unless you ask me to.”
I gaped at him, but rather than dignify his words with a response, I wrapped his coat more tightly around myself, longing for the comfort of my own home. What I’d give to be in my bedroom sewing, away from this brazen fae and the ways in which he made me feel both terrified and scandalized.
Garrick’s humor melted as anger darkened his face. “Come sit before you freeze. You can trust me, and my word, far more than you could trust your brother or the promise he made to your dying father.”
My heart dropped into my stomach. “How do you know about that?”
“Like I said before, I heard the townspeople whispering about you,” the fae said, his tone as disgusted as I felt. “Their constant gossip. Their judgment. They bemoaned poor Charles Cantwell’s vast generosity and sweet temperament, the way he sacrificed in order to uphold his vow to your father.” Garrick placed a hand over his heart in mockery. “Tonight, we saw the true worth of his words.”
“Indeed,” I whispered, tears burning my eyes.
Garrick leaned back on his heels, scanning me slowly. “I’m sorry. It was insensitive of me to speak that way. Please, warm yourself. I promise you that no harm will come to you in this cabin.”
I arched an eyebrow. “Outside of it?”
“I can make no promises about that, Florentia.”
“I...prefer Ren,” I said hesitantly, before relenting and approaching cautiously, sitting as gracefully as I could on the floor. I held my hands out toward the growing fire. Though there was an acceptable distance between us, I couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable. I’d never been unchaperoned like this with a man who wasn’t family. “It’s not proper for a lady to be alone so long with a strange man,” I ventured. Not that I wanted Garrick to leave...I simply hoped he would take note and behave like a gentleman, though that was probably too much to hope from a fae.
“It’s also not proper to throw your sister out into the night and leave her to freeze,” Garrick growled.
Startling, I glanced at him, surprised at the hostility in his tone. And maybe a little bit afraid. His guttural voice was a sharp reminder that he wasn’t human.
Garrick cleared his throat. “I’ll stop speaking of your brother.” He turned away, shaking his head. “It’s just...my kind value loyalty above all else, especially to loved ones. It’s hard not to think of him as the vilest of men to break his word and threaten your life so callously.”
I had no response to that.
For a long while, we sat in silence, letting the fire crackle and pop, its warmth slowly enveloping the cabin. My tense muscles began to relax as Garrick rose, moving about the room to gather a kettle, filling it with water from a supply he must have kept on hand, and setting it over the fire to boil.
“Do you truly live here?” I asked after a long while, studying the way the firelight cast flickering shadows over the sharp planes of Garrick’s face. His piercing gold eyes remained focused on the dancing flames, not turning to look at me. He was handsome, in the breathtaking way that fae tended to be, but there was a ruggedness about him. It wasn’t only the leathers and fur clothes he favored or the fact that he had bows and quivers of arrows hanging on the wall. It wasn’t the mud-encrusted boots he’d shucked off at the door. It was something in his very appearance, one that told me he was as dangerous as he was beautiful. He was predatory, lethal—with or without magic.
“I’m a hunter,” Garrick repeated, shrugging. As if that alone answered my question. But then he went on: “I travel throughout the mountains, and there are cabins scattered everywhere. I keep necessities stocked in each so I can take shelter while I await my prey.” He collected two mugs from a cabinet, added tea leaves, and poured hot water from the kettle into each.
When he offered a mug to me, I cradled it in my hands, letting the rising steam caress my face. “Do you set out traps and bait them to come closer to your cabin?”
Garrick turned to me, his mouth twitching in another smirk. “Why? Are you hungry for venison? Hare?”
I shook my head. “But I don’t understand you,” I ventured. Perhaps it was the fact that Garrick didn’t scorn me, or maybe it was my hope to become better acquainted with this fae until I believed I could trust him, but I felt bold enough to ask personal questions. “If you grow so tired of living and hunting alone in the mountains that you chose to seek mortal company, why not live among your kind?”
Taking a long gulp of his tea—to give himself time, I imagined, since it hadn’t steeped nearly long enough—Garrick leaned back on his hands. “And what is my kind, Starlight?”
This time, I scowled at him. “We are not familiar enough for nicknames.”
“I’ve already asked you to call me Garrick, and Miss Cantwell is entirely too formal for my world. Here, we don’t think it too formal to call someone by their given name. And a nickname?” His lips curled into another dimpled smile, and unbidden warmth spread through my chest at the sight. He reached out, tugging gently on a lock of my hair. “It doesn’t mean the same thing here. In my world, flirting doesn’t mean I’m proposing marriage.”
I swallowed thickly at his closeness. Among humans, it would surely mean he was courting me, trying to win my affections, or that he was a rake, carelessly breaking women’s hearts. But Garrick seemed to speak the truth. He seemed the type of man to be friendly and open with everyone, maybe even to flirt without it meaning anything. He possessed a natural charm. His nickname only meant he saw me as a possible friend. I could accept that.
“So tell me,” Garrick continued, “what is my kind?”
I frowned in confusion. “What do you mean?” I scanned his face, searching his gold eyes, focusing on his pointed ears. Misgiving clutched my heart, turning my growing warmth into something chilly. I’d heard stories of the monsters and other creatures that lived in Brytwilde, but they’d never had faces that looked like the high fae. “You’re fae...right?”
Garrick tilted his head. “I’m a shifter, considered one of the weakest types of fae. All I can conjure is the weakest sort of glamour, enough to occasionally trick humans with a few illusions, but not enough to control them. And I couldn’t trick anyone with magic in their blood, like you. Most shifters are ridiculed and looked down upon. Our magic is never strong, save for our ability to transform into another creature and occasional related abilities.”
I stiffened. “What sort of creature?”
Garrick didn’t flinch, didn’t look away. A slow grin crept up his face, wicked and wild. “A wolf.”
I jerked backward, sloshing my tea and cringing when the hot liquid soaked my dress.
“Are you all right?” the fae asked hurriedly, reaching for my mug.
More embarrassed than hurt, I nodded.
“No need to worry,” Garrick reassured me. “I was only teasing. I promised not to hurt you, remember?” He swept toward the cabinets, setting down my mug, withdrawing a cloth, and returning to dab at my wet dress.
“But...what do you hunt?” I asked, voice strangled, torn between flinching away from Garrick and trusting the promises he’d made me.
Another grin twisted his lips, this one less mischievous and more friendly, framed by dimples. “As a shifter, I don’t eat humans or fae, not even in my wolf form. That would be too close to cannibalism.” He sneered with disgust. “I am still fae. Not a monster.”
I shuddered despite his words, but his expression remained earnest. “And the law I’m sure you learned about us fae applies to all types of fae, Starlight,” he went on. “I cannot lie. But perhaps now you see why I’m looked down upon. I’m little more than a dog to most fae, unable to even wield strong glamour, unable to use any sort of magic but to transform into a furry beast.” He chuckled, but there was bitterness in it.
“Does that mean you choose to be alone? Do you...have family?” I asked, hoping my question wasn’t too invasive.
“I, like you, have never fit into my world,” Garrick explained. “The rest of my family died during a vicious battle at the Silverfrost castle over two decades ago.” His expression was distant, as if haunted by snatches of awful memories as he spoke. “I’m accustomed to being alone. No matter the adventures I experience in these mountains, there is never anyone to share them with while I’m out here. However, I do go into towns and cities—sometimes even the castle—to trade the meat and pelts I gather for other items. Sometimes I’ll stay a bit for the company, but I think you know as well as I that often, you can be even lonelier in a crowd than when you’re secluded.” There was a lightness in his tone that made me think maybe he was trying to make his life seem less sad. It was difficult to know how sad he truly was, when he continued to smile and jest as if it all were nothing.
Eventually, he sat back, laying the wet cloth aside and glancing at my still-damp dress. “I can offer you a change of clothes,” he suggested.
My eyes scanned the single room cabin and the one bed again, tension coiling in my stomach. I needed the safety of this shelter, and whether it was foolish or not, Garrick’s promises reassured me I would be better protected with him than on my own. I couldn’t face the cold or the creatures outside as I was. But I hadn’t really considered what an entire night alone with this man would entail.
In Altidvale, it would have provided endless scandal and gossip, and Charles would have been forced to bribe Garrick into marrying me. Here in the kingdom of Silverfrost? There was no one to care about scandal, and this was only survival for me. But what was it to a fae?
As if reading my thoughts, Garrick lifted his hands, palms facing me. “I’m not trying to take advantage of you. I couldn’t leave you to die out there. That is all. And now that I’ve saved you, I’m duty-bound to protect you. It’s in my blood, being part-wolf.” He winked before gesturing toward the washroom. “You can change in there, and then you can sleep in the bed. I’ll sleep on the floor.”
Before I could open my mouth to question his generosity, feeling the polite thing to do would be to refuse to take his bed, he grinned. “I can manage sleeping on the floor just fine, Starlight. I am considered a dog, after all.”