Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
OPHELIA
“Have you heard about the fae in Far Water?” Tara, the grocer’s wife, asks me.
I pluck a juicy red apple and turn it over in my hands. “I can’t say that I have.”
Lies, of course, but it won’t take much for Tara to tell me more than my stepmother did. She has always been the talkative sort.
“No?” Tara gasps, her wrinkled mouth forming an O. “You must’ve heard! Everyone’s talking about it. You shouldn’t be out alone right now, dearie. It’s unsafe.”
Lady Ashbridge made me promise not to leave after dark, and I am technically keeping my promise. The sun will still be up for a few hours.
I smile wryly. “It’s not as if I have anyone clamoring to join me in my errands. You understand how my family is.”
Tara has her own opinions of Lady Ashbridge—namely, that she’s an unfortunate side effect of one who is brought up with too much money and too few manners. I would never outright insult my stepmother, even to Tara, but the occasional comment should slide by well enough.
“I don’t believe that for a second. You have people who care for you, aside from me. Why, I saw you out with Ethel just the other week.”
“I’m surprised you haven’t already heard.” Heat rises to my cheeks, and I clear my throat. “Ethel and I are no more.”
Understanding flickers across her features. “Ah. That’s too bad. Jerry and I were rooting for ya.”
Most were—at least, most who knew of our courtship were.
My stepmother did not know. She wouldn’t have approved of anyone making me happy, and Ethel brought joy to my life for several years before we fell apart.
As much as I miss her, it was the right thing to do.
Courting someone while keeping a halfling secret is no easy task.
It hasn’t been long since we ended, but the wound no longer feels so fresh.
Some people are meant to be alone, and I am one of them.
“Life goes on,” I say. “Tell me more of the fae. Do you know what business they have in Far Water?”
“Someone says their prince is throwing a ball. Can you believe it? A ball, here?”
“Ah, but of course, I can.” I roll my eyes. “That’s very much like the monarchs. Rather than visiting to help our small town, they throw lavish parties we can’t afford to attend.”
“Yeah, yeah. Typical royals. But you’d better keep your wits about you.” She leans in. “I saw one just outside here a bit ago. Handsome as the devil, just like they always say. Nearly handsome enough to drag me away from Jerry and into their wretched land, if y’know what I mean.”
“Tara!” I let out a sound between a gasp and a laugh. “Surely that was not your first time spotting a fae. You’re quite old.”
“You come into our shop and insult me?” Tara laughs, waving a plump hand as if the gesture will cause me to disappear. “Get out of here, girl.”
“I’ll have to pay first, Madam.”
“Just the apples for you today?”
I’m supposed to respond, but a flash of brilliant white hair captures my attention. It isn’t white like Tara’s, having transformed with age. No, there’s something delightfully youthful about the face wandering outside.
The pointed ears, the bright blue eyes, the endless twinkle behind them, and his porcelain skin. There is no doubt that the man is a fae, and a wealthy one—the sort of person who rarely sees the sun.
My heart flutters. I may have taunted Tara for never having met a high fae before, but I’m no better than she is.
I suppose I met my mother, but that was long ago. She was gone when I was old enough to form a single memory. Sometimes, I remember something—not a face or a voice, but twinkling bells and a flash of silver.
The swell of magic. I can recall that too, and I feel it now. It grows in my weary chest, and Tara’s warnings fall on buzzing ears. Even when I tear my gaze away, my attention is still on the stranger. My mind continues racing back to him, circling him, no matter how hard I yank it away.
He’s the key to the other half of me—to my mother. That makes him dangerous, but so enticing.
“Yes,” I croak. “That will be all, Madam.”
Should I run away or toward him—and why do I yearn to do both? I hold my head high, chin tilted up, as I strut outside. I doubt I’ll capture his attention, anyway. There are other ladies out—ladies who don’t have holes in their dresses and an unmade face. There’s no reason for him to look at me.
Yet, he does, and the world comes to a standstill. How am I supposed to tear my gaze from him a second time? It was hard enough before, and now… now he’s looking at me.
A high fae is looking at me, and it feels as though he’s been looking for me. As if I’ve been caught. Found.
I clutch my floral reticule tighter. If the stories are to be believed, this faerie is not interested in the contents of my bag; there is something else he would much rather steal. Perhaps he would ask for my child, or a mortal hand in marriage, but I don’t have those things to offer.
Up close, his eyes are impossibly lighter, the gray of a rainy sky.
He’s slender and tall, rather than the muscular type I’m used to seeing in the local farmers and witches.
There’s a glow about him, whether it’s the sparkling of his white hair or the smile that curls on his lips so effortlessly.
The slight bump on his nose is the only thing one would consider an imperfection, but it looks positively divine.
He has a friend, too, I suppose—another fae, one who hardly captures my attention despite his strong build and rugged appearance. He would usually be more to my taste as far as men go, but I can’t look away from the white-haired one.
“Do you believe in fate?” the white-haired fae asks.
Everything in me wants to tremble and hide from the question and his penetrating gaze, but I force myself to do the opposite, holding my head higher. The fae love playing games, and I won’t lose this one.
“I believe you are speaking to me in clichés.” I sniff, adjusting my hold on the bag. “If you intend to waste my time with silly questions, perhaps you shouldn’t have bothered me at all.”
Long ago, I learned how to make people leave me alone.
No one is allowed to get too close—close enough to see my pointed ears or feel the moon magic thrumming beneath my skin.
These words would usually make a man—at least a polite man—back away.
The impolite men wouldn’t, and they would get an elbow to the gut.
He surprises me, not with lewd commentary, but with a roar of laughter bubbling from the deepest pit of his abdomen. Even his friend looks shocked.
“I apologize,” the white-haired fae says through laughter. “I didn’t intend to waste your time, my lady.”
“Ah, but intentions are only half the battle.” I force myself to look away. “I do have somewhere to be, so as wonderful as it was to meet you—”
“Wait.” He clears his throat. “My lady, please listen to me. It is an emergency.”
Emergency? No. It is nothing more than fae trickery.
I narrow my eyes. “Is that so?”
He nods, appearing sincere. I know better than to trust a fae. “I’m new to Far Water and in great need of entertainment. Surely, you can tell me where you and your friends entertain yourselves.”
“That depends on the manner of entertainment you are seeking.” My face flushes. “There is a brothel, but I’m unsure of the way there. You must ask someone else.”
“No, no.” He laughs again, tossing his head back, his white hair brushing over his shoulder. “Do you truly think I would ask a lady like yourself about such matters?”
But I am not a lady. Has he not realized that yet, by my rough hands or the tears in my chemise? My wariness grows, eclipsing my fascination with the stranger.
I lift a shoulder. “Why not? I’m an inhabitant of this land, after all. I know more than you.”
“I don’t doubt that for a moment, but I am only looking for somewhere to drink. That is all.”
Well… that’s relatively harmless.
“Ah…” I point over his shoulder. “There’s a tavern up that way. Go straight and look for the drunkards ambling about. You can’t possibly miss it.”
“You underestimate me, my lady.” He ducks his head, pushing his face closer to mine. “I’m terrible with directions.”
Up close, his eyes shine like the sun, with spots of yellow behind the stormy gray.
My lips part, and my chest heaves as I inhale. “I fail to see how that’s my problem.”
“Perhaps it’s not, but you may have the solution nevertheless.” He tilts his head to the side. “Will you have a drink with me, my lady?”
No. I will not have a drink with you. You refer to me as a lady; some say ladies should not entertain the idea of having drinks with strange men. You’re the most peculiar of all, my good sir.
I know exactly what you are.
That’s what I should have said, but my wisdom was lost somewhere between grabbing the apples and locking eyes with the stranger.
Ladies such as my stepsisters are not permitted to spend time in taverns, but while I have many restrictions, my stepmother no longer cares what I do outside the house.
She has two perfectly eligible daughters to attend to, and ensuring they find their match is more important than my having a clean reputation.
No one thinks twice when I stroll into the tavern, even though an ethereal stranger accompanies me.
This is him in his mortal form. How will he appear when his glamour drops?
My glamour is weak, just enough to blend in with the mortals, but like most of my magic, I have little control over it.
It’s far easier to remain hidden. I’ve never been comfortable with my fae form, even a stolen glimpse in the looking glass.
The purple sheen of my eyes, my ears sticking out of my hair, and the glow about my skin…
It feels so unlike me.
His friend settles in at a table near ours, and I sit alone with the white-haired fae.
“You have yet to tell me your name,” I say.
He lifts a brow. “And you have yet to tell me yours.”
Never give a high fae your name. That’s what I was taught, but is it still true when I am a fae myself?