Chapter 6
Alette
I stand in the center of a luxurious room that feels like it belongs to someone else, definitely not me, but the fae had told me that this is where I’ll be staying from now on.
Staying. He said it like he thought I was a guest, and one that should have been honored to be so.
Even though I’m not. I’m a prisoner being treated like a queen.
“What do you think?” the human maid asks as she smiles while fluffing the dress and carefully avoiding the magical dagger at my waist.
The gown I’ve been dressed in is a work of art, pale green with gold embroidery that glimmers in the firelight.
It clings in ways I’m not used to, the fabric swishing against my legs with a soft rustle that feels entirely alien to my skin.
I shift uncomfortably, the luxuriousness of it all a stark contrast to the rough, practical clothing I’m used to.
But it’s the dagger in a sheath at my waist that really bothers me, the weight of it pressing down on me.
The blade feels... alive. The hilt is bone-white and smooth, cool to the touch, and the dagger itself gives off a faint, otherworldly hum that vibrates through the air.
It’s not quite detectable in this light, a flicker of power that unsettles me.
Every time I brush against it, a strange, tingling sensation crawls over my skin, almost like it’s trying to reach into me, to connect with something deep inside.
But what it wants from me, I don’t know.
The thought of carrying such a weapon feels like I have a heavy weight on my chest, but I’m wearing it anyway, because a blade that can hurt a fae might not be the worst thing to carry when I try to escape this place.
Unfortunately, I can’t just try running to freedom.
I have to be smarter. I have to find my way out before they do whatever they plan to do to me, because I seriously doubt their goal is to have me take them through some labyrinth.
Fae are liars. All they want is death and pain.
“It’s… lovely,” I tell her softly, forcing a smile as I glance at myself in the mirror.
My reflection stares back. I don’t look like myself anymore.
My long dark hair has been brushed and styled loosely around my shoulders, and flowers have been woven into a few small braids, tiny bursts of color that seem out of place when my soul feels cloaked in shadows.
Something that sparkles has been brushed across my cheeks, and dark lines encircle my eyes, making them look even bigger and more vulnerable than they normally do.
“I’m glad you like it,” the other servant, Ellie, tells me, her tone cheerful but strained, as though she’s trying to convince herself as much as me.
The human servants, two women about my age, flutter around me like birds, their movements quick and efficient as they adjust my gown and hair.
Everything about them is polished: smiles, voices, even their footsteps.
But then, if my life was always at risk, working for the fae, I might be the perfect servant too.
“Why do they need me to dress like this?” I ask, a knot of confusion tightening in my stomach.
I can’t imagine what I wear or don’t wear should be important to them.
Ellie glances at me and smiles politely, but her eyes waver… Sympathy? Guilt? I don’t know. “It is tradition, my lady.”
I flinch. “Please. No need for the formality,” I say quickly, a wave of discomfort flooding through me. “I’m… Alette. Just Alette.”
Both of their smiles falter, but Ellie answers, her gaze still polite, almost apologetic. “No… no, we’d prefer to stick with a proper title, if we could, my lady.”
“Okay,” I say, nodding uncomfortably.
I’m not a lady. I shouldn’t have servants, fancy dresses, or a room like this. All of this feels wrong. Like I’m a pig being fattened up for the slaughter. A sense of dread grows inside of me.
I should be glad to be away from my grandparents.
From the deal they were making with Mr. Clay that makes me sick to even think about.
I should be glad for a break from the back-breaking labor it takes to run our farm, and the days spent in constant anticipation about what else I’ll do that will upset my grandparents and end in a punishment, but I’m not.
I’m anxious. This is all bad. I know it.
Nothing good has ever come from the fae.
“What do the fae want with me?” I don’t know why I ask. The fae rule these two women. They’re never going to tell me the truth.
Lily looks away from me, fidgeting with my skirt again, the fabric shifting beneath her fingers. “They’ll make that clear to you, my lady,” she murmurs, her eyes downcast, avoiding my gaze.
“Is all of this honestly about some labyrinth?”
Without addressing my question, Ellie says, “You really do look lovely, though.” There’s an empty quality to her words that makes me feel like there’s no world in which we would be friends.
Still, I try. I ask them about themselves, their lives here, anything that might make me feel a little less like an outsider. But they only respond with vague pleasantries, their answers light and airy, as if they’re reciting lines from a script they’ve memorized but don’t truly feel.
It’s like they’re puppets. Not people.
I let out a frustrated breath, feeling the knot in my stomach tighten as I glance around the room.
The walls are carved from smooth, light stone, polished to a shine, reflecting the soft light in a way that seems almost magical.
The bed is draped in silks that look more expensive than anything I’ve ever seen, the fabric shimmering with an opulence that feels entirely out of place.
It’s beautiful, yes, but all I can think about is getting out of here.
Getting back to town, to Goose and the villagers, and enjoying those handful of perfect days I get when I visit town.
There’s a sudden knock at the door, the sound sharp and jarring, making both servants freeze, their cheerful expressions faltering like a candle flickering in the wind.
One of them hurries to open it, but as soon as she sees who’s on the other side, she shrinks back, her confidence evaporating like mist in sunlight.
A man steps into the room, and the world tilts on its axis.
My heart races, a frantic drumbeat echoing in my ears.
He’s impossibly beautiful, as beautiful as the King of the Earth Fae, but in a different way.
His features are sharp and otherworldly, carved by some divine hand.
He has piercing blue eyes that seem to see straight through me.
Long brown hair frames his face, the strands flowing like liquid chocolate, and his presence fills the room, making it feel too small and suffocating.
Another fae.
“Leave,” he snaps at the servants, his voice a commanding growl.
The servants dip their heads and scurry out without a word, their retreat leaving me alone with the frightening fae.
I swallow hard, my pulse hammering in my ears as he closes the door behind them with deliberate slowness, sealing us inside together.
The silence that follows is thick, almost suffocating, pressing down on me like a heavy blanket.
Then his gaze locks onto me once more, icy and unyielding.
I stand up straighter, determined not to let him see how much he unnerves me. I can’t show weakness. Weakness will only make it easier for them to hurt me.
He strides toward me, his movements graceful but predatory, each step calculated as though he’s sizing me up for a meal. When he’s close enough, he reaches out and grabs my chin, tilting my face up so I’m forced to meet his gaze, and an electric shock courses through me at his touch.
He studies me with a scowl, his expression a mix of disdain and intrigue. “This is it? You’re the human everyone’s been going on about? You’re just a small bruised thing.”
I jerk my chin out of his grip, the contact sparking a rush of adrenaline. “I’m sorry, I don’t believe we’ve met…”
He answers simply, his tone dripping with condescension. "I’m King Oberon."
I curtsy clumsily, not sure what else to do. “I’m Alette.”
“You don’t look special,” he mutters, his words more to himself than to me.
Still, my cheeks flush with a mix of embarrassment and indignation. “I never claimed to be.” Then I press my luck. “Which is all the more reason to just send me home.”
His eyes narrow. “You’re not going anywhere.”
Of course it can’t be that easy. I instinctively take a step back, the realization sinking in that I’m trapped.
His gaze shifts to the dagger at my hip, a spark of interest igniting in his eyes. “Is that it?”
I glance down at the strange weapon, my chest tightening. “Is it what?”
He rolls his eyes, exasperated. “Is that the dagger from the goddess?”
I nod, trying to decide if saying more will help or hurt me. “Yes. Varua made it from her… spine. In front of me.”
He looks surprised. “It’s powerful. One of a kind,” he says, his voice reverent.
I hesitate, the tingling sensation from the dagger growing stronger as if it’s reacting to his words. I don’t like this. Any of it. The powerful blade or the powerful fae king.
“Can I see it?” he asks, his curiosity now laced with something darker.
A tremble rolls through me. I don’t want to be in this room with this fae king. I don’t want to be close to him; he’s dangerous. But I’d be a fool to not do as he says. Slowly, I remove the dagger from my belt and hold it out to him, my palms sweaty.
His eyes light up as he reaches for it. But the moment his fingers close around the hilt, he recoils with a hiss of pain, a sharp sound that reverberates through the room. The dagger clatters to the floor, the sound ringing in the silence like a death knell.
“So it’s true…” He stares at his hand, then at the dagger, his expression a mix of shock and confusion. “How can you touch it, but I can’t? How is it that you can touch it and the Great King Oberon of the Fire Fae cannot?"
I kneel to pick it up, half expecting it to burn me as well, but the moment my fingers wrap around the hilt, it feels... normal. Strange, but not painful. I shrug, uncertainty swirling within me. “I don’t know.”
And I don’t. None of this makes sense to me.
I’ve only seen a fae once before, and it ended in blood and death.
To me, they’ve always been ghostly creatures lurking in the shadows, waiting to strike if given the opportunity.
But since meeting King Sylvian, I don’t know what to think, other than that these fae are keeping me alive because of their misbelief that I’m something special.
Someone capable of helping all fae kind.
I wonder what will happen when they realize they’re wrong.
He scowls, his handsome face darkening. “This is unacceptable. You’re just a human.”
“I’m aware,” springs from my lips.
He straightens, his expression hardening into something colder, more calculating. “You will be the tool I use to rule the fae. You will do as I say, nothing more, nothing less. Do you understand?”
“I–”
The massive man leans over me, those startlingly blue eyes pinning me in place. “You, Alette, are mine.”
I swallow. I’m his? What does that mean?
Before I can respond, he holds out his arm, the gesture both commanding and oddly intimate. “Come. It’s time for dinner.”
I hesitate, glancing down at the dagger in my hand, its power thrumming beneath my fingers. If I have to hurt this frightening king to escape, I will. Not that I think even this dagger will keep me alive if I have to fight this massive fae king.
Right? It can’t possibly change me into a worthy opponent for this man…
The power it holds hums faintly, but it doesn’t feel threatening. It doesn’t feel like enough, even though I saw the goddess herself create it. Still, it’s the only weapon I’ve got.
He snatches my wrist, and my head jerks up. “Don’t even think about it.”
My voice trembles. “Think about what?”
We stare at each other, and I wonder if he can read my mind. If he knows that I would kill him right now if I had to in order to escape. Not that I think I could.
Reluctantly, I slip the dagger back into its sheath and place my hand on his offered arm.
The moment our skin touches, my heartbeat picks up, a wild rhythm pounding against my ribcage, but I force myself to stay calm as he leads me out of the room.
Still, I can’t shake the feeling that whatever world I’ve been dragged into, I’ll need to tread carefully.