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As I looked up at the twisting vines that were the posts of my bed, my eyes filled with tears. I thought of my father and the cruel sapling that almost took his life. No matter how beautiful, I could not allow myself to be taken in by the curiosities and charms of this new world… or my dangerous host.
"Ah, mistress is up," a high-pitched voice greeted me.
I looked around but saw no one. Was the lady invisible, or was there another frog hopping around, making cruel bargains?
There was a tug at the corner of my sheets. I glanced down and saw a small brown rabbit with a pink twitching nose. "I am called Rosie, mistress. I am to be your lady’s maid."
Stars above, a talking rabbit. Would these mad wonders never cease? The last thing I wanted was another fae oddity nearby, especially one so absurdly cute. She reminded me of the swamp rabbits I had kept as a little girl.
Perhaps, that was the reason for her form. If I befriended the creature, she would report on me to the king. I should turn her away. I didn’t need a spy in my chambers, even one with such an adorable nose. So, in my most regal, clipped tone, I said, "I have not asked for a lady’s maid."
She bowed. "One does not have to ask when one is to be queen. I am here to serve. I am half human, so I may be familiar with some of your customs."
I could hardly believe the King of the Isle had sent a half-fae to ensure my comfort. The same man who unceremoniously dumped me in the entry last night and bound me to him by pains of death. He must have an ulterior motive.
"Can you lie?" I asked, narrowing my eyes.
"Only with scorching pain," Rosie replied, her whiskers twitching frantically.
"Good," I said coldly. "I don’t like liars or bargainers." I may as well have told her I didn’t like fae. Even without the ability to lie, they were all natural born deceivers.
She said nothing in reply. Instead, standing on her hind legs, she placed a small tray on the edge of my bed. "Drink this. You’ll feel better."
"What makes you think I’m unwell?" I asked, frowning down at her.
"You said so, mistress. You talk in your sleep."
Drat. That could be a real problem.
I eyed the steaming teacup warily. I had been warned never to drink or eat anything from the fae realm. But with each beat of my heart, my head throbbed in time. I was already in the fae realm. I was betrothed to a fae. A little tea could hardly make things any worse.
I tentatively took a sip. I didn’t feel the acrid sting of poison; instead, I tasted peach, sweet and tangy. I let out a small sigh of relief.
As I sipped my tea in bed, Rosie drew vines away from my windows as if opening curtains. More sunlight streamed in, and she took a good look at me. Or at least that’s what it seemed like she was doing. She was a bunny, after all. I wasn’t exactly skilled at reading her expressions.
She hopped onto the bed next to me, stood on her hind legs and sniffed the air.
Suddenly, I felt horribly self-conscious. How long had it been since my last bath or change of clothes? I probably looked like a drowned rat and smelled like one, too.
She pointed me toward a bathroom nearby.
When I returned, I found a gown and underthings laid out for me. However, my lady’s maid was nowhere to be seen. How did she expect me to get in the garment on my own?
I moved forward to inspect it, and it became clear. This gown was in the style of the fae–scantily few undergarments and no corset laces whatsoever. My dirty clothes had vanished. So, I had no other choice. I pulled on the loose-fitted stay and then the gown itself.
I winced as I looked myself over in the mirror. The gown was a soft sea-foam green linen that nearly matched my ocean eyes. Rows upon rows of tiny pearls had been woven into the bodice and threads of what I believed might be real gold. It was a work of art, but none of that made me feel less exposed. The hemline ended mid-calf, and the neckline showed the tops of my breasts. There was very little shaping or volume, so the natural curves of my body were amply displayed. At home, this dress would have been considered lewd. Here, I suspected it was modest.
Moments later, Rosie returned. "You’ve missed breakfast, but if it is convenient, mistress, lunch is being served."
I nodded and allowed her to lead me to the dining room. The table was laden with food served in large shells. Instead of candlesticks and linens, the table was adorned with the treasures of the sea—coral, glittering algae, and pearls.
The strangest part, however, was that only one person sat at the table, and it was not the king. I turned to ask Rosie the meaning of this, but she had already gone.
So, I turned to the man instead. All of my defenses were up. "Who are you?" I asked through gritted teeth. "Where is the king?"
"Oh," he said, taking notice of me and giving me a sincere smile. He quickly stood and bowed. "You can call me Harry. I’m the king’s right hand man."
He was a handsome young man with silvery blue eyes and warm brown hair that curled a bit at the ends. Every part of him was neatly polished. He was the portrait of civility. Even my own father would have hired him.
