10. One, Two, Three…

Another week passes, but the upper floors remain dark and untouched. A few demanding customers keep Lori busy for most of the evening of my eleventh day in Faerie.

A few minutes before midnight, she yawns on her way over to my table and slumps onto the chair across from mine. "God, I swear, most of the High Fae are more interested in you than the books."

I arch a brow and peer at her over my latest read. "Hm?"

"Someone apparently shared with them that you're from the old world, and now you're officially an object of curiosity."

"Now that you mention it, a few ladies did stop by my table today to exchange pleasantries?—"

Lori rolls her eyes. "Oof, they're relentless. Don't give them anything, or we'll be swarmed before too long. Sure, they're always eager to spy on the new seeds, but an old world seedling is a big novelty."

My voice rises a few octaves. "Don't they have, I don't know…better things to do?"

The thought that they should be curious enough about me to alter their schedules feels laughable.

Lori stands and switches off the lights with a wave of her hand, only leaving on the glowing orange sphere over the librarian desk. "Don't worry, Nell. Between the two of us, we can unravel their little scheme. We'll play dumb and give nothing away, and within a month, it'll blow over. You'll see."

After she locks the main entrance, she heads directly for the tunnels. "Good night."

"Good night."

Lori doesn't raise an eyebrow or ask questions when I leave in the opposite direction, and the scope of my newfound autonomy washes through me once more. I thought I was coming to Faerie to be a prisoner, and yet I've never felt so free.

I can eat what I want and go to bed whenever I please.

Moonlight bathes the gardens, and the teal moss covering the Hawthorn is fluorescent under its silvery rays. The air is warm and still, filled with sweet hints of dew and honeysuckle.

Breathing in the beauty of the night, I climb the stairs to the balcony to grab an apple from the evergreen buffet. I'm a little hungry after my evening in the library, and I love to gaze down at the empty gardens at this hour.

It's the middle of the night, and I'm wandering the halls of a Fae castle with no escort…

My heart skips a beat when I spot One sitting alone at a table. The moon reflects off the white claw marks scarring his mask. His back is hunched as he eats, the slouch so different from his usual posture that I pause.

Is it really him? He looks so…beaten down.

I clear my throat loudly to make my presence known, and his fists clench for a moment, but he quickly melts back to his earlier posture.

I rush over to him with a verve that surprises me. "You're back."

He doesn't answer or glance up from his food, but his shadowy aura thickens around him like a thundercloud.

A torrent of questions threatens to pour out of me as I slide into the seat in front of him and suppress the anger in my voice. "Why am I the only one left to her own devices? The others have lessons with your brothers almost every day, but you just left without so much as an explanation."

He leans back in his chair. "I figured I'd leave you a bit of space to acclimate. And you needed to put on a bit of muscle first. I didn't want you to faint at the first sight of a nightmare."

"Oh." To be honest, he's the one who looks about to faint right now, not me. "You look like you're carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders…"

He reaches for his wine glass and takes a careful sip. "Is it that obvious?"

I offer him a compassionate smile and wait for him to elaborate.

"There's so much to do. So little time to do it." He gulps down another mouthful of wine. "Nightmares need hunting, hunters need guidance, and seedlings come last, I'm afraid."

It's not exactly an apology, but I appreciate the sentiment.

"Is it because of the summer celebration? Lori told me that it gets quite busy for you around holidays."

"Holiday is certainly a misleading word for it." A dark chuckle escapes him before his voice rises a little. "I'm not decking the halls or carving pumpkins, I'm trying to save lives. Trying to keep the world as we know it from fucking ending."

"Can I do anything to help?"

He opens his mouth to speak but ends up biting his bottom lip instead, and the silence stretches on.

The slight hitch in his breath brings goosebumps to my neck. "Have I said the wrong thing?" I ask.

"Not at all. You're the first person to ask me if I need help since…forever, really. I don't usually share the weight of my workload with anyone." He rubs the top of his mask. "There's just something about you…"

The pressure of his unseen gaze is almost too intense for me to bear at this point, and I try to think of something to defuse the tension, but he beats me to it with an awkward cough.

"You spent a lot of time with Lori while I was away?" he says.

I blink one too many times, still wrecked by his blunt admission. "Lori's great."

He leans forward, the strange energy dissipating. "I agree. Don't tell her, because it'll go straight to her head, but she's my favorite hunter." With an elusive grin, he lifts a thick piece of meat from his plate and brings it to his mouth.

"Really? How did she manage that?" I ask in jest, my eyes never leaving his mask, yearning to see what lies underneath.

For whatever reason, I crave his attention. Maybe denying me a mentor was meant to spark this weird, misplaced feeling inside of me, and if so, well played. Reverse psychology works.

One chews slowly at my obvious flirtation, his fork suddenly hesitant to grab the next bite, and a faint, high-pitched chime tinkles through the gardens.

We both turn toward the source of the eerie noise, the air now several degrees colder. An unnatural breeze blows through the thick vegetation, the leaves of the Hawthorn in a twist, revealing their silvery underside.

One's fork bumps the rim of his plate with a loud clink, and he stands abruptly, tossing his napkin over his unfinished meal.

My brows pull together. Something's not right.

I jump to my feet and search the gardens. "What's happening?"

Two marches out of the building and grips the railing, staring out at the Hawthorn. The broken glass shards on his mask gleam in the moonlight. Three runs out of the gym one story below and looks up at his brothers, his iridescent mask all black.

It's the first time I've seen the three of them together in one place, and the pulse of their combined power is palpable. It ripples through the air, and goosebumps brand my flesh from the top of my head to the very tip of my toes.

The delicate chime thickens still, and clouds drape the entire balcony in shadows. A slender white silhouette moves in the dark, quick and tall, and a quiet but unmistakable laugh pierces the night. Not the kind of laugh you share with friends, but a laugh that ices the soul.

Two's gaze darts in One's direction. "He got out."

Darkness pulses around One's body at the news, my companion now seemingly inches taller than he was before. Both men look intently at each other like they're having a silent conversation, and without another word, Two jumps over the railing.

One grips my wrist and hauls me toward the wall of mirrors at the back of the balcony. "Come. I'm taking you home."

My body obeys of its own volition, quite literally bewitched by his command. Once we reach the glass, One yanks my hood over my eyes and whisks me up in his arms, his strong grip not giving me an inch to spare. "Hang on tight, kitten."

The hard planes of his torso are even more unnerving than they were the first time he spirited me out of Demeter, but it's the obvious fear in his voice that terrifies me.

The sting of the frosty glass chafes my skin, and sweat gathers on my palms as we pierce the veil between worlds.

When One had fetched me from the royal summer house, he'd guided me through a rusty dungeon, so I'm surprised to find a polished, golden-trimmed mirror in the middle of a well-kept room on the other side of the sceawere today.

He sets me down, and my own will drips back into place.

I shake out the leftover tingles in my arms and legs. "Where are we? What just happened?" I ask.

The force of his magic is a huge wake-up call. Every inch of me could be under his command at any time, if he so desired…

One straightens his sleeves and jacket. "We're in Lundan. Beneath your father's castle." He thoroughly ignores the other half of my question, and I squint at him, torn between the urge to ask again and the certainty that he won't answer.

"Father would never keep a mirror here," I say instead.

A sarcastic snort pops out of his mouth. "Believe me, he would."

"But it's only been twelve days. Isn't it supposed to be two weeks out of four?"

"This arrangement is fluid, kitten. The king is the ultimate judge of the schedule."

I cross my arms over my chest and dig the balls of my feet into the ground. "I thought you didn't know the specifics of the bet."

"I know the basics," he snaps back.

Our chests rise and fall as we stare at each other, and I wish I had a mask to cover my emotions, too. "Who's out? What do you fear so much? Is it a nightmare?"

He growls in response and escorts me to the small interior courtyard with his lips curled down.

The gloom of midnight rain hangs in the air, the secluded garden morose in autumn compared to the luscious, colorful vegetation of the countryside—and downright ridiculous compared to the beauty of Faerie.

The summer house is much more cozy and fun. The Lundan castle is just not the same. I glance down at my black pants, knowing no one, especially Father, should see me in them. It's the middle of the night, and everyone but the guards are asleep. I should be able to slip past them no problem, my magic more powerful than it was before I left.

"Be safe, kitten." One angles his chin to my bedroom window, and I follow his gaze.

"Wait… How do you know which room is mine? Have you been here before?"

"Yes," he declares confidently.

I cross my arms over my chest. "When?"

"A few months ago. I was curious to see what you looked like," he admits softly.

My stomach flip flops, and even though I ought to be spooked or angry, the heat in my gut tells a different story. "You're creepy. You know that, right?" I say in jest.

A small smile tugs at his lips. "Don't lie. Given the chance, you would have done the same." His masked stare bears into me for a second before he shimmers in a shadow so deep, I lose sight of him.

"Goodbye, then… Be safe, too," I mumble to the empty space beside me, crestfallen to see him leave so quickly.

He's out… Who were they talking about? What could have made that inhuman sound?

Tiny shadow needles prickle my spine as I make my way inside the castle, past the unsuspecting guards, and reach my bedroom door. The rattling sound of the locked doorknob sends a burst of adrenaline through my body.

Esme locked my bedroom. She probably expects me to report to her as soon as I return, but I inch open the hallway window instead. The narrow ledge that runs around the entire building is wide enough to hold my weight, so I boost myself up and climb outside. If I was wearing my usual corset and dress, I'd never manage to balance myself on the ledge all the way to my bedroom window, but the slick Faerie uniform and boots do not get entangled in the vines or weigh me down.

I glide quietly along the wall, inch open my bedroom window—I'd broken the lock last year and kept it a secret—and jump inside. I've always wondered what would happen if I slipped out at night, unnoticed, but I've never had the right clothes—or the confidence—to do it before.

Exhilaration washes through me, and my cheeks heat with pride. I can't wait to see Cece's and Esme's expressions tomorrow when I surprise them at breakfast.

I ruffle through my dresser for a suitable nightgown and wipe the sweat from my armpits before pulling on my sleeping socks. The snug pieces of cotton are stretched tight over the new muscles in my legs.

The last two weeks, I'd tolerated the tight, long-sleeved tunic and washed myself with a hand towel after each run. Each night, I'd gone to bed with sore muscles but a newfound sense of freedom, and my slumber had remained undisturbed.

So different from my life here…

I expected to come back home full of shame and secrets, and while I've seen wild and unspeakable things, I'm not that…glad to be back.

Before I can dwell too much on why, I hide the book I brought with me inside the black clothes and cram them to the bottom of my hidden drawer. I slip under the covers, trying to recall the exact shape of the phantom I caught a glimpse of, earlier.

Whatever it was, One was desperate for me not to see it.