Prologue

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Surprise! You've won an all-expense-paid trip to motherhood.

My cami strap slips off my shoulder as I stifle a yawn and open my front door to find Sebastian, from Black Butler . It's a perfectly reasonable hour for company on the second day of spring break; however, one of us may have been up all night streaming a cozy horror game dressed as a cute Lovecraftian horror.

That is to say, I spent many hours last night with suction cups painted on my face, warding off teenage boys making hentai references.

But that's beside the point.

The point is: there's a beautiful man in a tailcoat and gloves at my front door. And I am still in my PJs.

"Mornin'," I mumble past my hand as I subdue another yawn. "The next LARP sesh I've got on my calendar isn't until next Friday. In the evening. Unless I've mixed something up." I blink, drearily, possibly in tandem, like a lizard. "Which is totally possible. Wade's gonna be pissed if I forgot about an extra sesh for spring break. I haven't seen you around before, so you should know we don't really do early." Like. At all. Ever. What in the world compelled any of us to confirm an extra morning session in honor of spring break? Delusion? Derangement? Drugs? That's ridiculous. I don't allow drugs at my house. "Tell you what, while we wait for the gang to show up, why don't you come in and we'll share some cinnamon rolls that I hope are still good? After that, I'll throw on some elf ears, and we can tell everyone my new character is a sleep-deprived mistress to the king of Ragonia. She's plotting his murder. And how to invent coffee."

Mr. Butler Guy stares.

At my chest.

A thread of unease works its way down my spine as I snap my fingers in his face. "Yes, they're excellent specimens, but eyes off the organs. Unless you're planning to murder me and sell them on the black market, it's rude to sexualize someone who just offered you a cinnamon roll." My arms cross over my breasts. "Or, now that I'm thinking about it, those cinnamon rolls might actually be danishes… Keep staring, and you'll never find out."

The man lifts his ash gray eyes to my face. Drawing his gloved hand to his chest, he bows. "Forgive me." A long black braid slips over his shoulder as he peers up into my eyes. "I wasn't taking advantage of your scantily-clad appearance. The image on your shirt resulted in a brief distraction."

I tug the hem of my cami out so I can see what's on my shirt. Four jet black bunnies with red eyes and long purple robes stare up at me. They are sacrificing a carrot in the woods beneath the light of a grinning full moon.

The man murmurs, "It's adorable in a disturbing way."

"That's my favorite kind of adorable." I sniff and release my shirt. "Fine. You get the benefit of the doubt this time. Next time, I pluck out your eyeballs, capeesh?"

" Capeesh ." He chuckles. "Zahra, I'm here on official business regarding the Villain Protection Program."

"Dude, we're a bit more chill than show up on my porch in-character . I haven't even brushed my teeth yet."

"I'm not in-character."

When he rises from his bow, I scan him from his slender black tie, down his linen shirt, to the silver buttons of his coat. It fits every angle of his masculine frame, accommodating his broad shoulders and tapering to his narrow hips.

I have an entire room of hand-altered costumes and accessories, but I don't think even I'm this hardcore with my cosplay.

In other news, I can't for the life of me recall a reason why Wade and the rest of our LARP team would be showing up at this hour even if we did plan an extra session this week.

More than half the gang would need to be possessed to be conscious this early, and I have a strict no demonic characterizations rule enforced with all LARPers who take advantage of my backyard.

I'm the only one who so much as sees this time of day because, when I'm not on break, I'm a teaching assistant at an elementary school.

Teacher wake up time is a b—

"Zahra—"

I interrupt his interruption of my inside thoughts. "Is this a prank? If the guys are trying to prank me, April 1 st was two weeks ago. I know it's a big ask to expect them to know what day it is, but still."

He sighs, and his brows dip with a level of condescension I'm simply not okay with. To his credit, he wears it well, but that doesn't mean I don't want to punch him.

He says, "I'm not a new member of your LARP team, Zahra. I am here on behalf of an organization founded by Alana."

My back straightens as his words register in my sleepy head. This man isn't a cosplayer.

He's a faerie .

And, for whatever reason, he's here by order of the local faerie princess , Alana. Who happens to be my boss, Kassandra's, friend.

My heart rate picks up as a thousand things go flying through my mind.

Last autumn, at the small private school where I work, we got a new student: Andromeda Strahk, an unseelie faerie known as a dream eater . Through a convoluted course of events—which included kidnapping, adult-size playgrounds, evil princes, and coming into magical powers—Kassandra learned that she wasn't the only special snowflake at our little school.

While she was only part sandwoman until she accepted becoming fully fae, I'm still part asteriai, AKA a star nymph .

Being part faerie, so far, has only meant the ability to hear past the natural fae glamours, which has resulted in decades of listening to voices with no origins, and subsequently believing myself a touch insane.

But…

Maybe something has changed?

If Alana is sending someone here on official business , maybe I'm about to get my wings?

Butler guy continues, "My name is Alexios Vox."

All my grand delusions of purpose and answers grind to a marvelous halt.

My nose scrunches. " You're Alexios?"

Gentle baffle softens his regal features. "You said that with a tone . Would you mind clarifying what you meant to convey with it?"

"When we met four months ago, you were rude."

"Rude?" His head tilts, clueless innocence gleaming in those gray eyes of his. "I remember complimenting you. Extensively. When was I rude?"

"You refused to drop your glamour so I could see you. Don't act like you didn't spend the entire day teasing me because I can hear faeries even though I can't see them." That little side effect of being part asteriai got me diagnosed with schizophrenia as a child, proceeded to ruin all my chances of adopting when I learned I couldn't have kids, nearly destroyed my ability to become a teaching assistant, and basically annihilated my self-perception growing up.

Alexios has the audacity to smile as though our brief meeting at the end of winter break is a fond memory. "We're getting off topic."

Off topic?

Off topic?

Well. 'Scuse me.

Arching a brow, I push my door closed on top of him, turn on my heel, and head across my foyer to my kitchen. Whaddya know? Those cinnamon roll danishes were actually strudels.

My front door opens and shuts while I'm plating a strudel to pop in the microwave for a few seconds. When footsteps encroach, I say, "Aren't there faerie rules about entering someone's house uninvited?"

Alexios cocks a hip against my kitchen island's white marble countertop. "You're likely thinking of human myths surrounding vampires, but even if there were such a rule, you did invite me in."

I mutter a curse under my breath.

"As I was saying," he plows on, "I am a member of the Villain Protection Program, a secret organization Alana established. Our mission statement is: seeking to rehabilitate local villains using the magic of friendship, empathy, and love."

I snort.

Without pause, he proceeds, "I'm sure you've heard about Castor, our local villain in need of many hugs?"

The microwave beeps, and I pull my strudel out as half a smile hooks my lips. "Yeah, I've heard of Castor. He's the big bad unseelie prince who's got beef with Alana's husband, Prince Cael. Given how he's been forgiven for multiple kidnapping offenses, I'm convinced he has excellent cheekbones."

"He does."

"I knew it." I lift my chin toward the half-decimated package of strudels on the counter. "Want me to heat one up for you? They're going out of date soon."

Alexios's gaze lingers on the box for a judgmental moment. Then he says, "No. Appreciated." Adjusting his cuff links, he takes a slight step back from my counter. "For several months now, I've been monitoring Castor as his aide." His gaze locks on mine. "Please understand this information is sensitive and cannot be shared with anyone under penalty of retaliation."

That sounds like a threat. "Does your father know about this?"

"Pollux is not my father."

I smile as I take a bite of my strudel. "I never said Pollux, so even though you're a faerie and can't lie, he is at least the person you think of when I say father ."

"I am much too used to the comparison, and you are a very distracting individual."

"You won't trick me into thanking you. I know that thanking the fae provides access to a person's soul."

His head tilts, again, in the other direction. "I hadn't intended my comment as a compliment."

"And, yet, I totally took it as one."

He smiles. The action is pristine and controlled, as though painstakingly practiced. "To return to pressing matters, do you recall the dryad planting that occurred last fall?"

"Yup. Your little sister mentioned it at school."

He loses his pretty smile. "Meda is not my little sister."

I point my strudel at him. "Again, I didn't name her."

Tugging on his sleeve, he glares. "She's my older sister."

Ah, yes. Funny thing, fae ages. Even though Andromeda looks like she's eight, she's only existed for three years, and according to information she's given me about her big brother Alexios , this twenty-something-looking fantasy of a man is less than a year old.

Maybe he can't have strudels. I should offer him baby food.

I know how to make it from scratch…because…yeah.

Let's just say I was very invested in my adoption journey, but it always came down to that one little, outdated diagnosis. I get it . Really. I do. It's about the child, not the adult who wants a child. Just because I know I'd be a great mother doesn't mean it looks like I would on paper. And paper is what agencies have to work with in order to give children the best chance they can.

Alexios places a hand at his mouth and murmurs, "You distracted me again. Where was I?"

"Dryad planting."

"Yes, right. Every so often, the dryads plant young saplings with the hope that one might sprout into a new sister."

"And this past planting, Pila—the youngest dryad—sprouted a baby girl. I know. She let me hold Terra at one of Willow's movie nights even though they're both too young to drop their glamours for me to see them. All I can remember from the experience is the aftermath." I was crying. In the aftermath, I was crying. I shove another bite of strudel in my mouth. "I'm offended that my ability to hear the glamoured fae doesn't help my brain compute physical interactions with them."

Alexios stares at me, hand now clamped to his mouth.

I stare back as I finish my extremely nutritious breakfast. "What?"

"You stole part of my script."

"Your… script ? Did you memorize what you're telling me?"

His head dips in a nod. "I've been practicing in the mirror for a few days."

Given that the fae really can't lie, this tidbit is delightful .

Alexios regains his footing, opens his mouth, and gets interrupted. By me. "So, is it difficult for you to talk to people or something?"

His brain lags and reboots. Finally, he says, "Cheeky. You're doing it intentionally now."

" Cheeky? " Leaning against the counter, I plant my chin in my hands. "Who? Me? "

His gaze drops off my face then pulls away.

"Still checking out the bunny ritual, sweetheart?"

"Not that time. Which is why I have corrected the direction of my eyes."

I chuckle, darkly. "Go on. What were you saying before?"

His lips move, silently, as his attention scans my kitchen table, the two YouTube Play buttons I have displayed on the wall near it, the porch swing visible outside the front window. "When Castor kidnapped Meda and Kass, it was a diversion. So I could take a sapling from the dryads."

I straighten up off the counter. "You did what ?" I've heard about this event from Andromeda at school. Pila was devastated; Andromeda was worried about her. "That was you ?"

"I assumed he was operating on a chance it would bring forth fruit."

Fruit? Does he not mean a baby ?

"I know better now that Castor does not act on potentials where plans of this nature are concerned. Whatever he did with the sapling—"

"Castor has a baby."

Alexios closes his mouth, finds my expression, and—very delicately—says, "Yes. It is not a dryad, though. Dryads can only be female and seelie; what Castor has is their opposite. An unseelie male. An ent."

"Is Castor taking care of him? Please tell me he has more going for him than cheekbones." My skin prickles. "That's a joke, but I'm not joking." My voice cracks. "Okay? Is the baby okay? "

Alexios crosses the kitchen to me, lifts his hand, then shies away when I flinch back. Closing his gloved fingers, he says, "Don't worry, snowflake."

A nerve pinches. "What did you just call me?"

"You told me you were a special snowflake when we met at the end of winter break. I thought it suited you."

I glare up at him, searching his stormy eyes. "I'll allow it. No more interruptions. Finish your script."

"Alana and I would like to recruit you as a member of the Villain Protection Program. Your first task will be to join me at Castor's side and relieve him of the need to care for the ent infant. It's a taxing mission; however, this arrangement would include me. What are your thoughts?"

My brow furrows. "What do you mean this arrangement would include you ?"

"You have numerous responsibilities, including both your teaching career and your gaming one. I would act as the secondary caretaker, here to assist with household chores and managing the child. Taking care of an infant is difficult for just one person, as Castor has learned. Attempting to handle the small one atop his other devious little plots is making him cranky. In his kingdom, I am the only one suitable for childcare, so…it makes sense he'd choose me to assist you, while keeping tabs on his…assets."

My heart jolts up my throat and gets stuck. Assets? Right now a little baby boy is with a man who considers him to be an asset ? "So what you're saying is we'd foster a baby, here?"

"Yes, ultimately."

It gets harder to breathe. "Does he have a name?"

"You may name him."

The heart in my throat tightens and twists. "What did Castor need a baby for in the first place?"

"Collateral."

He's holding a baby as collateral against a kingdom with a leader he doesn't like?

I think I hate Castor.

Screw his cheekbones.

"I don't want to foster a baby for the kidnap-happy evil prince," I say.

Alexios's brows rise.

"If I agree to this, I'm not giving him back."

"Ideally, that is the goal. As a member of Princess Alana's program, I'm sure you can imagine that I'm not exactly in favor of Castor having collateral against her kingdom."

Trying to maintain my emotions, I grip my arms tight over my chest. The fae can't be trusted. I know that. Even the ones born in brightness—known as seelie fae— can have ulterior motives. And Alexios, according to Andromeda, is an unseelie fae called a yamachichi . His kind is known for thievery. Of emotions, souls, babies . On top of that, his words just now were indirect, which means they could be thread with half-truths intending to manipulate me. I need to tread carefully. "I want to talk to Alana about this before I agree to anything."

"Gladly. I will arrange a time for you two to meet and go over details."

"Also, this ent is a baby . Pila's thirty-something and not strong enough to drop her natural glamour in front of me. Is this infant different somehow? How would I take care of a baby I can't see?"

Alexios smiles, teeth pearly white and threatening. "You are aware of my age and that I am capable of dropping my glamour, yes?"

"The proof doth stand before me."

"I can grant you the ability to see past fae glamour and enter Faerie without going mad on the realm's magic."

My eyes narrow. "At what cost?"

"Everything."

My heart twists. " Everything? Alana told you to come here with this offer and take everything from me?"

"Let's just say I have my own interests in these schemes, and she is not at liberty to set the price for my assistance. You will need the ability I can provide. I want everything in return." Morning light from my window glints in his eyes. "So, the real question left is: how badly do you want to save a baby?"