Chapter 4

4

The numbness that gripped Molly when her uncle told her what had happened tightened with every breath, until she could hardly breathe. She didn’t sleep at all that night, even desperate as she was to wake up the next morning to find it all a bad dream.

“He’s paid for you, dower, everything. Full bride price and more,” Uncle Brom had informed her after the final customer left last night.

Molly didn’t care one whit what the fae paid—just that he’d paid for her.

Bride price.

It was a very old, very outdated custom. Sort of like a dowry noblewomen sometimes had when married off, but this the groom paid the bride’s family. It was a contract, a deal between a family and a third party to hand over their daughter. The custom gained popularity again in the tumultuous decades of the wars of succession, when everything had been thrown into chaos and question. Now, though, thirty years on, a bride price was seen as blood money, children sold off by desperate parents. It wasn’t strictly legal, especially as Lord Darrow spearheaded the effort to eliminate slaver of all kinds throughout the Darrowlands.

“You got no right,” Molly had growled at him. She’d been of age for years now, and she wasn’t Brom’s child.

“Just think of it, Moll. A fae’s bride. He must have a fortune.” And he’d held up the clinking sack of coins, everything Molly was apparently worth. “And this is only half. He’s bringing the rest tomorrow.”

“He can bring coins made of carrots for all I care. I’m not doing it.”

Brom’s brows drew low in false concern. “It’s unexpected, I grant you. But think, Moll. Think what this would mean for us—for the tavern, for the children. I can finally make the repairs this place needs. I can send Merry to the academy in Gleanná. Hells, we can sponsor Bryan’s knighthood. Just think, a Dunne knight.”

His eyes sparkled with a fervent, almost delirious kind of wonder. “This could make us, Moll.”

“Us? Us?” Her voice went so high the windows shuddered. “What about me?”

“Don’t be selfish, Moll. This will change the little ones’ lives—you can make it happen for them. And don’t be daft, either. How many chances like this will come around for you? No one’s come calling for you in years.”

“I don’t want a suitor. I want—”

“I’m not unfeeling, Moll. I got him to agree to a handfasting instead. Just a year and then you could be done. But just think on what you could do in the meantime,” he’d insisted. “A fae, Molly girl, a fae. Just think!”

Molly had thought—all night. Brom hadn’t left her alone without a tentative promise that she would agree to it. The words slipped out of her numb mouth, mostly to get rid of him so she could hide away in her room.

All night she lay there, staring at the ceiling. She could hardly believe that in the short conversation between Uncle Brom and the fae, they’d haggled over her . That her uncle would sell her didn’t surprise her—what did, and what hurt most, was knowing that Allarion, her mysterious tavern wraith, had bought her.

She hated him for it.

What did they truly know about the fae? Most of the legends and myths about them made their kind out to be scheming and cutthroat. Perhaps Molly should’ve listened to the fairy tales.

Not all of them ended in beautiful, flower-festooned weddings.

The thought of the wedding, the castle, the heiress, had her sitting up in bed. Without thinking, she’d shoved her feet into boots and hurried to the bedchamber door.

The Darrows won’t allow this. They won’t let him buy me.

Opening her door revealed Brom sitting just down the hall in a chair he’d brought up from the tavern. He sat whittling by candlelight, his little paring knife catching the glint of the small flame.

He looked at her with his face cast half in shadow. “You’re going with him tomorrow, Moll,” he’d said in that low, threatening voice he saved for special occasions. “What you do after, I don’t care. Run away, start a new life.”

She’d stared at her uncle’s hardened face for a long while, searching it for…something. She’d known him longer than her own parents—he’d been the one constant in her life, loathsome as he often was. In the dark, faced with an uncertain dawn, Molly did something she swore she’d never do.

She begged.

“Don’t make me go.”

Brom’s beard twitched. “You’re clever, you’ll get on just fine. Do it for the little ones. They’ll never want for anything ever again, Moll.”

The weight of the decision was heavy, even if it was no decision at all. They both knew she stood no chance when he spoke of the children. Molly loved her cousins, wanted them to have everything she didn’t.

If fae money could buy it…

“You swear? The money will be for them?”

“On my life, I swear it.”

Molly watched his face a moment longer, unsure if she believed him. Perhaps it was enough money that, even if he indulged himself in whatever he wanted, which she knew he would, there’d at least be plenty left over for Bryan and the girls.

Bryan, who was twenty and had left the tavern as quickly as he could, could quit the apprenticeship he hated and finally have the money to sponsor his training to be a knight. Such a rise would take the whole family with him—they’d be respectable, well thought of. Merry could hone her brilliant mind at an academy in Gleanná, where she’d be challenged and recognized for her gifts. Nora, Rory, and Oona could have dowries or inheritance to build their lives.

“All right,” she forced through a throat closed tight in terror.

She’d meant what she said then, even as morning dawned and shed a surreal light upon the situation. Molly seemed to swim through the day, her attention like the sunlight trying to filter through the morning clouds. It was as if she watched herself gather her meager belongings, packing all her worldly possessions and a few provisions into two canvas bags.

All day Brom hovered, reminding her of her promise, of what this would mean for the Dunnes. He darted out to make arrangements but reappeared every hour, ensuring Molly was still there and willing.

At least, as willing as you could make a bought bride.

Her annoyance was what finally broke through her daze, and in a show of the temper she’d been trying to master for years, she shoved him out of her room and slammed the door in his face.

“I said I’d do it!” she yelled at the door.

Brom grumbled on the other side. “I’ll go see what’s keeping the mayor.”

Molly snorted in disgust before turning on her heel to get back to packing.

All four of the girls had crowded into her room, the three youngest—brilliant Merry, boyish Rory, and talkative Oona—piled on her narrow bed while the eldest, Nora, sixteen and haughty, made a nuisance of herself by the window. She ostensibly was picking through the things Molly had decided not to bring with her, even though Nora had scoffed she wouldn’t like any of her things.

Really, Nora wasn’t ever to be left out of anything. Aloof as she might be, she dreaded missing out.

Nonplussed by Molly’s outburst, the three younger girls got back to wondering aloud what the fae and his house would be like.

“Do you think it glows with magic?” said Merry.

“I think he lives in a tree,” quipped Rory. “Aren’t they into nature and trees and the like?”

“That’s stupid,” sneered Nora, “nobody would live in a tree.”

“Plenty of things live in trees,” Rory argued back.

“Squirrels, raccoons, birds…” Oona began to list all the creatures she knew.

“Those are animals, ” Nora insisted with disgust. “He’s a man. A fae. And where would his unicorn go in this tree house of his?”

“In his own tree, obviously, ” said Rory, just to rile their sister.

Nora, always so sensitive and easy to rile, pinched her lips together in a sour expression. “This is a stupid thing to talk about. Everyone knows he bought the old Scarborough estate, so it’s probably just an old moldering house.”

Oona gasped in delight. “You get to live in a big house?”

Molly did her best to smile. “So it seems.”

“An old one,” Nora interjected. “Probably doesn’t have any floors anymore and no furniture.”

“Enchanting, Nora, thank you.”

Nora rolled her eyes. “Let’s talk about something else. What are we going to do with this room? It has the best window. I think I might want it. I’m oldest, so I should get to have it.”

She looked up when none of her sisters responded. Molly too glanced up, expecting at least one argument, for argument’s sake.

The three younger girls were staring at Molly, their faces gone downcast.

“Do you really have to go?” asked Oona in a little voice.

Molly’s heart lurched, and she quickly knelt on the floor before them. The girls threw their arms around her neck, and Oona began to cry.

“Hey now,” Molly soothed. “It’s all right. Things will be just fine. You’ll hardly miss me at all.”

Oona shook her head, rubbing her tears and leaky nose into Molly’s neck. “No, we won’t! We won’t forget you!”

“I know you won’t, love. And I’ll be sure to visit. It’s not forever.”

“Did the fae say that?” Nora asked. She didn’t sound malicious, but Molly still threw her a dark frown over Oona’s head.

“I haven’t spoken with him yet, but it doesn’t matter. I say I’ll visit, and so I will.”

“You haven’t spoken with him?” Nora repeated suspiciously. “Didn’t you last night—”

“Never mind. I’ll speak with him.”

That seemed to placate the girls, and Molly spent the next few moments mopping up tears, even as her own heart cried out.

She didn’t want to leave them.

Sure, she’d been making plans to leave. She had her stash of coins—now packed safely in one of her canvas bags. But she didn’t think she would’ve gone far—maybe a different neighborhood, establish herself somewhere new. And maybe the girls could have come with her after a time, the younger ones at least.

All her plans, vague as they’d been, had come to nothing. They hadn’t been much, but they’d been hers—and now they were less than a puff of smoke.

Her life was careening out of her control again, and Molly had to swallow back her panic.

That terror lodged in her throat when a brusque knock came at the door, and on the other side, Brom said, “They’re here—the mayor and the fae. It’s time.”

Heart racing, Molly ushered her cousins from her room. “Go on, now. I’ve got to change into something nice.”

The girls threw her uncertain looks, but Molly closed the door on them, too. She couldn’t bear their forlorn faces. It made her impending departure that much more real, even as she stood in her bedchamber in her last few moments of freedom.

This can’t be happening, her heart moaned as she went through the motions of donning her finest clothes.

She couldn’t help a grimace that her best bodice and kirtle were what she’d worn to serve drinks at the heiress’s wedding. She’d done all the embroidery on the brown bodice and white sleeves and butter yellow kirtle herself, and it was some of her best work, but a little bit of her withered to know she’d be handfasted in her barmaid clothes.

He’d seen her in them. He’d know.

Well, if he didn’t want a barmaid, he shouldn’t have bought one.

Righteous tears burned her eyes as she finished dressing. She didn’t bother with her hair— he gets what he gets —and made quick work of her best pair of boots. Hauling the bags over her shoulders, she trudged down the steps to the tavern below, not letting herself think.

It wasn’t until she’d set everything down that she realized a small crowd had gathered inside.

The fae was there, but she couldn’t bear to look at him. A few of their neighbors, a few of Brom’s friends, a few other tavern owners, the mayor. Jennet and a few other barmaids she was friendly with poked their heads through the windows, but none dared come to her and pass by the fae.

Other than the mayor. Seeing her, Mayor Doherty quickly approached. Thom Doherty was beloved throughout Dundúran, a wise, moderating voice for the people. He worked well with the Darrows and oversaw city business fairly. He was also spry for a man who’d gone white and wrinkled long ago, hurrying over to draw her aside.

Giving her hands a sympathetic pat, the mayor said, “Miss Molly, this is all very sudden and strange. I’d heard Lord Allarion visited this tavern, but I hadn’t thought…”

That he’d ever stop to look at a woman like you.

Molly bit her cheek.

“The fae can be strange,” was all Molly could think to say.

“So I gather.” When Doherty looked over his shoulder at the small crowd, it was at her uncle, not the fae, that he leveled a considering frown. “Is this what you want, Miss Molly? Your uncle isn’t doing something…untoward?”

Molly sucked in a breath, the truth on the tip of her tongue. She glanced over the mayor’s shoulder at her uncle to find him boring into her with a desperate stare.

Then, unwillingly but drawn there as surely as an avalanche rolled down the mountain, her gaze flicked to the fae.

He stood on his own, a silent, looming presence. He too was staring at her, his gaze unwavering and intense in its own right. She stared back, weighing her next words.

I can end this. I don’t have to go through with it.

The mayor had enough power to stop whatever this was. He could appeal directly to the Darrows, maybe even bring her to the castle immediately.

But…

The money would be gone. And worse, what would the fae do in retribution?

She hadn’t ever sensed violence from him, and in her fantasies, he wasn’t capable of harming her or her family. But then, she’d never imagined he’d buy her.

Looking at him then, every nerve shook in trepidation but…not fear. She didn’t fear this fae.

He wanted her. Like so many men before him, he wanted something from her. It lessened him in her eyes—he was just like all the rest. More powerful, richer, to be sure, but the same, nevertheless. He didn’t use violence but money to get his way, to manipulate and force.

Molly had seen his type before. She knew how to handle men like him.

The realization gave her some comfort, as did her promise to herself that she would take this man for everything he was worth. Whatever he held dear, whatever he loved, she would find and take. Brom was right at least in that she didn’t have to stay with him. A handfasting was a year and a day; after that, if neither cried off, the couple was considered married. But until then, until that year and a day, it could be called off at any point.

Molly intended to make this a short handfasting. She would take her freedom back and the life she wanted. No man, not even a fae, was allowed to take it from her.

So she told the mayor, “It’s all right. I want to,” because she meant to make the fae regret it.

The mayor gave her another concerned look, as if trying to determine if she lied.

Squeezing his dry hands, Molly whispered, “I’d appreciate if you kept an eye on the girls, though. Make sure they go to school. My uncle is often too busy.”

Doherty made an uncharitable noise. “Indeed. Rest assured, Miss Molly, I’ll look after the little ones. Everyone will attend school as they should.”

“Good. That makes my heart lighter.”

Doherty nodded, patting her hand one more time before releasing her.

Together, they approached the fae.

He was in his standard long dark cloak, but both sides had been folded back over his shoulders, revealing the strong, lithe form of him. Broad shoulders narrowed into a trim waist and lean but powerful thighs. A rich doublet of claret red molded to his form, a silver belt cinched at his waist, and his black leather boots had been polished to a high shine.

He looked like a groom in his finest, arrived for his wedding day.

Heat crept up Molly’s cheeks, and she couldn’t help picking at a stray thread on her skirt.

The others gathered nearer, and Doherty began the handfasting.

The fae held out his large hands with their dark blue nails and tapered fingers. Molly stared at them for a long moment before remembering to slide her hands into his. She thought perhaps his hands would be cold—he had the color of someone nearly gone to hypothermia—but found the opposite. His skin was smooth and warm, not unpleasant at all.

Molly’s nostrils flared, her pulse beginning to throb. She couldn’t keep his gaze but instead stared at the fae’s throat. It was after a few long moments that she realized with a start that no pulse of his own beat in his neck. She didn’t feel one in his hands, either.

Does…does he not…?

The mayor produced a red ribbon, snagging Molly’s attention. She said the requisite things when prompted as Doherty twined the ribbon around their hands, tying them together. The fae’s voice was deep and resonant as he repeated the promises back, and Molly couldn’t help it, her insides quivered to hear that tone of his.

The promises of a handfasting were simple enough, to love and be true. In her fantasies late into the night, Molly often dreamed of hearing the words. She’d never quite seen the face saying them to her, and as they were said now, she refused to look at his face.

The heat continued to rise in her, the witnesses and tavern itself seeming to bend near as the ceremony finished. A hush fell over all of them, Doherty falling silent.

It wasn’t until a long moment of silence passed that Molly dared glace up. The fae looked down at her…softly, expectantly.

Oh.

Handfastings ended with a kiss.

Molly bit her cheek. If he wanted a kiss, he’d have to come down and get it, and he wouldn’t be getting a good one.

He remained perfectly still, those dark eyes searching hers, before finally he bent at the waist. Molly held her breath as he descended to her, locks of starlight hair slipping over his shoulders as he dipped his head.

His lips hovered over hers, but Molly made no move to meet him. She kept her eyes open wide and forward. Within the red ribbon, her hand trembled.

She felt his lashes, silvery like his hair, flutter against her cheek. His head dipped lower, and her belly swooped. She thought he meant to kiss her on the cheek, and to the others that’s what it must have looked like, but no, he—

His warm mouth pressed gently into the side of her neck, near where her pulse beat rapidly at her throat. The heat of him exploded through her, and if she hadn’t been clutching his hand with her own, she would’ve sworn he ran them down her sides to her waist and hips.

For one prolonged moment, they stayed like that, bound together, his mouth on her skin.

Molly’s breath burst from her aching lungs when he finally pulled back an inch.

Low enough so only she could hear, he murmured into her skin, “ Azai. ”

Her breath shuddered out of her, and Molly stared wide-eyed at her groom as he straightened. Even with his black sclera and violet irises, she thought he looked at her…warmly.

“Thank you, sweetling,” he whispered to her. “I treasure the gift you give me.”

Molly’s lips parted in surprise, but she didn’t know what to say.

A few of the crowd around them began to clap, but it didn’t quite catch on. Mayor Doherty looked between Molly and the fae, as if to see if either would suddenly renounce the handfast.

Stuck again in a daze, she followed when the fae went to pick up both of her bags and lead her outside. There would be no celebration nor wedding dinner. They wouldn’t stand to greet guests and well-wishers.

They were pledged and that was that.

Outside, a much larger crowd of curious neighbors had gathered in the street. The fae’s black unicorn stood proudly just outside, and everyone gave him a wide berth. When they appeared, a curious hum of chatter began.

“Congratulations to the happy couple,” called Brom from behind them.

More awkward clapping followed, making Molly’s cheeks burn. She might as well have been naked for how exposed and vulnerable she felt then. Tears pricked her eyes to think of herself, hair unkempt and dress worn, standing beside this ethereal being.

What we must look like.

Molly followed without a word as he walked to the unicorn. No saddle sat on his back, just a finely woven blanket and a pair of stirrups. The fae slung her bags across the unicorn’s broad back before offering his unbound hand to help her up.

Her cheeks burned. “I don’t know how.” She’d never learned to ride.

Without a word, the fae took her by the waist and hauled her up. With an oof, Molly clutched at the strap of her bags as she flung a leg over the unicorn’s back. It was difficult, one of her hands still bound to his, and she had to scramble to right herself. Her skirts rode up higher than her boots, exposing her knee and pockmarked lower thigh.

She’d barely gotten her seat when the fae mounted up behind her, graceful as could be. He curled his arm around her to rest their bound hands in her lap. With nowhere else to put her other hand, she laid it on the lump their hands made.

The crowd tittered and murmured, gawking as the unicorn turned to head down the street.

And that was how Molly finally left her uncle’s home—on the back of a unicorn, handfasted to a fae, and utterly humiliated.