Chapter 14
DAHLIA
The night market could’ve been torn straight from the pages of a fairytale.
Stalls lit up by hanging orb lights fill the huge forest clearing.
Flowing fabric drapes over the stalls in soft purples, muted greens, and blues, and each shop is tended by a shopkeeper who watches over their various wares.
I wish Eden were here to see it. Or Fern. Or even Blossom. We’ve barely been here five minutes, and I’ve already spotted a dozen gifts I’d buy for my sisters. There are books for Heather, perfumes for Camellia, and short dresses that any of us could use as dance gowns.
Claren trails a few feet behind us while demons potter around the clearing, chattering and haggling over prices.
But there’s not just demons here. At first, I thought they were humans – tall, beautiful, humans with strange, glimmering clothes.
But when we pass another slender couple peering at crystal bottles on a wine stand, my stomach drops.
Their pointed ears force me closer to Tauren.
“There is no need to fear the faeries,” he chuckles, brushing his fingers over my hand. “You are safe while you are with me.”
“I thought this place belonged to your court,” I ask nervously. “Why are there faeries here?”
“The night market marks the border between our two courts,” he explains. “Demons and fae gather here to trade and share stories. We’re not enemies.”
A handsome, brown-haired faerie passes us, dipping his head respectfully at Tauren.
“See?” he murmurs, nodding back in greeting. “You’re safe here.”
Discomfort churns inside me, but I don’t have time to worry about faeries. Besides, they can’t be worse than the monster beside me.
Forcing a grin, I rub my hand against his cotton shirt. Time to start acting. “Where will you show me first?” I purr as his brows pinch together. “I want you to show me everything.” I lean against his chest, peering up deviously.
“I told you to behave yourself.” Warning dips in his tone.
“Am I not being good?” Pouting, I turn to the nearest shop and tug him towards it. “Can we look here first? It smells delightful!”
He doesn’t respond, just follows me with narrowed eyes until we reach the stall. Freshly baked goods cover the table. Everything from blueberry tarts to sugary iced buns to chocolate-drizzled muffins that smell divine. If I were at home, I’d eat one of everything.
“Stars,” I moan as Tauren tenses behind me.
He draws closer. “Would you like one?”
“Hmm…” Seizing the opportunity, I press my rear against his hips while I look over the table. As I hum in thought, I rub my backside against him in subtle up and down motions.
His breath catches.
I’ve never done this to a man before, only ever read about it in romance books, but it seems to be working. His hands drop to my hips as I feel something hardening beneath his breeches. Something big enough to make my stomach flip.
“Dahlia,” he growls, but he doesn’t step back.
“Hmm?” I roll my hips, browsing the cakes. “Did you say something?” When I glance back, I almost buckle under the intensity of his gaze.
“Enough.” His hands grab my hips. “I told you to behave.”
I grin at him, sickly sweet. “So sorry,” I lie. “Won’t happen again.”
After purchasing a cake, Tauren stalks behind me while we continue through the markets. My chocolate muffin tastes as divine as it looks. I’ve almost devoured it before I remember I didn’t just make him buy me a cake so I could eat it.
Swirling my finger through the icing, I lift it to my lips. Then I push my finger into my mouth and suck in a way that would make Blossom cover the eyes of my youngest sisters.
A few male demons at a nearby stall pause, watching me with hungry eyes.
Three, two, one—
“What are you doing?” Tauren steps in front of me, blocking their view. His gaze falls to my lips and his jaw clenches.
This is too easy…
I slide my finger out with a grin. “Just enjoying my cake,” I say innocently. Scooping up another clump of icing, I push it into my mouth again. Seconds later, my finger comes out with a wet pop. “Would you like to share?”
Tauren’s lips part. “Are you trying to torment me?”
Yes. But I don’t tell him that. “I don’t know what you mean.” I put on my best clueless voice. “Am I doing something wrong?”
He studies me for a moment before rolling his eyes. “Finish your muffin. I’m taking you to Girabalt’s.” Cupping my elbow, he whisks through the markets before I can ask who that is.
We stop outside a small blue tent near the back of the market. The entrance is hidden by a curtain of lilac fabric, and above that is a wooden sign with Girabalt’s written in pretty gold letters. Claren stands beside us, watching Pumpkin as she sniffs around our boots.
“What is this?” My nose scrunches. It’s too small to be a shop. You could barely fit two people inside, but Tauren guides me in anyway, Claren and Pumpkin following closely behind.
After stepping through the curtain, my jaw drops. The small blue interior I was expecting is now a huge, bustling gown shop.
Faeries in blue uniforms flit between rails, arranging long, flowing gowns and corsets.
The golden walls are barely visible through the layers of fabric-filled rails and shelving.
In the centre of the wooden floor is a dais showcasing the prettiest ballgowns I’ve ever seen.
The light from the chandeliers above makes the already sparkling gowns look ethereal.
“My sisters would kill for five minutes in here,” I gasp. Tauren doesn’t let me stop to soak it in. Taking my arm, he leads me past the colourful gowns and through a set of peach-coloured double doors.
I forget how to walk as I enter. This room is like the first snowfall of winter.
Rows upon rows of stunning white gowns fill the golden-walled shop.
Traditional cloud-white wedding gowns hang beside tight-fitting ivory dresses.
Between them are long gowns with off-the-shoulder sleeves, shorter dresses with tulle skirts.
Any dress a princess could dream of is here, twinkling under warm lights.
Beneath the gowns are endless racks of white shoes and accessories. Dainty heels. Veils. Sparkling tiaras.
If my sisters were here, we’d spend days trying on everything. Even Fern, who usually hates dressing up, would probably join in on the fun.
But my sisters are not here, and the dark-eyed demon beside me is my constant reminder that I’m not going to be seeing them again any time soon.
“It’s so good to see you, Lord Tauren and Master Claren.” I look up to see a tall faerie male dressed in the blue shop uniform but with a regal gold trim. His green eyes crinkle as he spots Pumpkin at our feet. Then he spots me and grins even wider. “I see you’ve brought me a gift.”
I want to scowl at the faerie, but there’s something so warm about him that I can’t help but smile back as he bows in greeting.
“Girabalt.” Even Tauren sounds happy. “I trust you received my letter.”
“I did.” Girabalt’s eyes gleam with curiosity. “Although last time we spoke, you didn’t tell me that you were planning a wedding or that you’d met a princess…”
“The wedding is not a love match.” The joy in Tauren’s tone is replaced by something more calculated. It makes my smile fall. “This is merely a political move.”
Girabalt’s gaze slides to me again before lowering to the collar at my throat. His grin vanishes.
“I’m happy to let Dahlia choose an appropriate gown,” Tauren continues, unfazed. “Please help her find something suitable.”
I want to roll my eyes, but I manage to hide my displeasure long enough for Girabalt to lead me towards a changing room, gesturing for Tauren and Claren to take a seat on some white chairs nearby.
The faerie lifts the thick curtain for me to pass through.
But the moment it closes, he shakes his head and pins me with a pitying stare.
“I’ve known Tauren for many years. My cousin is the Lord of the Faerie Court, and he and Tauren are firm allies.
But perhaps I did not know him as well as I thought…
” Nerves flutter inside me. “Has he hurt you?”
I stare at him blankly.
“I see the collar around your neck. I can feel its magic connecting you to him.” Running a hand through his auburn hair, he sighs.
“I don’t care how long I’ve known him, or how much power your husband-to-be holds, I will not dress a bride who does not wish to be married.
Tell me, Princess, are you here against your will? ”
My lips part, then close again. Two nights ago I would’ve begged for his help. Faerie or not, I would’ve cried tears of joy.
But now, even behind the safety of a heavy curtain, with help staring at me in the face, I find myself hesitating.
Even if this faerie can remove my collar and sneak me out of here without Tauren noticing, where would I go?
He could send me home to Father, but I doubt I’d get to spend long reuniting with my sisters. I’d be shipped off in another foul-smelling carriage to Lord Elheart’s palace before dawn.
I could ask him to take me to Night Alley, to live with my eldest sister and Kasimir, but for some reason that doesn’t sound as appealing as it did the night of Blossom’s party.
I don’t even know if she’d want me there.
Of course, if I told them my situation, she’d let me stay for a while.
But could I spend the rest of my life there? Would I want to?
Maybe Blossom was right. Maybe I should’ve just chosen a boring, ‘safe’ prince at her stupid party. Visions of custard-blond hair and wine-fuelled kisses dance through my mind. A strong hand dragging slowly up my thigh. My back pressed against the wall.
I might not like being his prisoner, but I’m definitely having more fun than I would with any other prince right now.
And I’m not sure if I’m ready to stop just yet.
“The situation with Tauren is under control.” I hold my head high. “There’s no need for you to jump to any conclusions.”
Girabalt narrows his eyes, unconvinced. “Are you certain of this?”
“Yes,” I bite out. Am I? Maybe a back up plan would be a good idea. A smart idea. It’s what my older sisters would do. “Actually…”
The faerie arches a brow.
“Would you be able to send a message for me?” I twist my hands together. “The circumstances of my arrival in Tauren’s court were quite… unexpected. And I really should let my family know I’m here.”
Girabalt nods, seemingly satisfied with this.
“Of course. I’ll fetch you a quill.” He moves towards the curtain but stops before heading out to the shop floor.
“One last thing.” He smiles warmly. “Any preferences for your gown? I pride myself on the diversity of my designs, and anything that doesn’t quite fit you can be altered.
I’m very quick with a needle.” He tosses me a wink.
My plan from before bubbles up inside me like a wicked creature in a pond. “Oh yes,” I tell him, unable to help my laugh. “I know exactly what I want.”