Prologue

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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 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.

And making fun of ASMR.

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 PJ's.

"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 laugh. "Which is totally possible. Wade's gonna be pissed if I've forgotten a special recording time or something. Are you new? We don't really do early, so the rest of the slobs will probably be here in about thirty minutes." I purse my lips. "Tell you what? Why don't you come in and we'll share some cinnamon rolls I hope are still good. I'll throw on some elf ears, then we 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."

He stares.

At my chest.

So 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, they might actually be danishes… Keep staring, and 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 momentary distraction."

I tug the hem of my cami out so I can see what's on my shirt. The image of four jet black bunnies with red eyes and long purple robes stares 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 drop my shirt. "Fine. You get the benefit of the doubt this time. Next time, I pluck out your eyes, 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."

I scan him from his slender black tie, down his linen shirt, to the silver buttons of his coat. It fits his masculine frame flawlessly, accommodating his broad shoulders and tapering perfectly down 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 Wade and the rest of our LARP team would be showing up at this hour.

We never do mornings.

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

"Zahra—"

"If the guys are trying to prank me, April first was two weeks ago."

He sighs, and his brows dip with a level of condescension I'm simply not sure I'm okay with. To his credit, he wears it well, but I still kind of want to punch him.

He says, "I am here on behalf of an organization founded by Alana."

My back straightens as his words register. This man isn't a cosplayer; he's a faerie. And, for whatever reason, he's here by order of the faerie princess.

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—that included kidnapping, adult-size playgrounds, and magical powers—my boss and friend, Kassandra, learned that I was part asteriai, or star nypmh. But asteriai sounds cooler.

Being part faerie, so far, has only meant trouble for me.

But…

Maybe something has changed?

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

"My name is Alexios Vox."

All my grand delusions grind to a marvelous halt. My nose scrunches. "You're Alexios?"

Gentle baffle softens his regal features. "That was said with a tone."

"Maybe because when we met four months ago, you were rude."

"Rude?" He lets his hand fall. "I remember complimenting you. Extensively. When was I rude?"

"You refused to drop your glamour so I could see you. Don't try and act like you didn't spend the entire day teasing me because I can hear faeries even when 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 adoption 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 very brief meeting at the end of winter break is a fond memory. "We're getting off topic."

Arching a brow, I push my door closed, 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. "No, but if there were, you did invite me."

I mutter a curse under my breath.

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

I snort.

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. Big bad unseelie prince who's got beef with Alana's husband, Cael. Kidnapper extraordinaire. 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 make you one? They're going to go bad soon."

His gaze lingers on the box for a judgmental moment. "No. Appreciated." Adjusting his cuff links, he takes a slight step back. "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. "I never said Pollux, so he is at least the person you think of when I say father."

"You are a very distracting individual."

"You won't trick me into thanking you. I know that thanking the fae gives them access to your soul."

His head tilts. "I hadn't intended that comment as a compliment."

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

He smiles. "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 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.

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 even though they're both too young to drop their glamours and 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 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 as a distraction. So I could take a sapling from the dryads."

I straighten up off the counter. "You did what?"

"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. While dryads can only be female and seelie, it 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?"

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

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

"You told me you were a special snowflake. 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. You are capable of lies and fluent in them. You are adept at socializing, and no doubt your ability to hear past glamour will prove useful. Your first task would be to join me at Castor's side and relieve him of the need to care for the ent infant. It's a dangerous and taxing offer; however, this arrangement would include me. What are your thoughts?"

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

"You have several careers and numerous responsibilities. I would act as the secondary caretaker, here to assist with household tasks and managing the child. Taking care of an infant is difficult for just one person. Castor has other devious little plots he has been attempting to handle on top of the small one, and it's making him cranky. In his kingdom, I am the only one who is not at risk of possibly consuming the child, so…I would stay with you and help."

My heart jolts up my throat and gets stuck. "So what you're saying is we'd foster a baby, here?"

"Yes, ultimately."

It suddenly 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."

Holding a baby as collateral against a kingdom.

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."

Trying to maintain my emotions, I grip my arms tight over my chest. The fae can't be trusted. I know that. Even theones born in brightness—known as seelie fae—can have ulterior motives. And Alexios, according to Andromeda, is an unseelie called a yamachichi. His kind is known for thievery. Of emotions, souls, babies. 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 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 that realm's magic."

My eyes narrow. "At what cost?"

"Everything."

"Everything? Alana told you to come here with this offer and take everything?"

"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. So the real question left is: how badly do you want a baby?"