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I thought it might be the first time he had actually called me by my name. I hadn’t been sure he even knew it.
"Listen to me carefully. There are no tricks of the light on the isle. If you see a shadow move, it is not your imagination. If you hear footsteps by your side, it is not a rabbit. If you feel a lingering foreboding, you are not alone. Above all, you must trust your instincts. The rules you learned in your old life will not serve you here."
"I apologize for causing you trouble," I said formally.
He snorted. "What trouble is it for me to ride in my own woods?"
It was a lie. I was beginning to pick up on his manner of speech. The ways he deceived. For instance, this time, he had phrased it as a question.
It was a nice lie though. Of course, I had been a bother. He had been forced to ride out to rescue me through a veritable bog. It was hardly the finest way to spend one’s evening.
When we returned to the castle, he led me to his study. I lifted my head to gaze at the tall, wooden walls, open to the night sky. The room was lit in the soft glow of candlelight. It was lovely, just the sort of place I’d gladly spend hours. I wondered briefly if there were any human books here.
"Rosie," he called.
My lady’s maid hopped to his side.
"Tea, please."
Her frantic eyes darted between us before she hurried off.
Then he nudged me toward a velvet chair.
"I’m fine, really. I’ll just head to my room."
He snorted. "Not yet."
I watched him pick at the shelves, gliding across them on a wooden ladder. His fingers stopped as they reached a particularly large volume. He pulled it, scaled down the ladder, and dropped it on the small table next to me.
The table shook with its weight. It was old and leather bound. Some of the pages were nearly falling out. Its binding was hand-sewed, and the words were written in thick, dark ink.
"What’s this?" I asked.
"I want you to take this book and read it from cover to cover. Do not share it with anyone else." He flipped the volume open, and a plume of dust erupted from its pages, revealing thick, dark ink scrawl. His fingers danced along the edges, flipping a few more pages along. "Start here."
"What is this?" I repeated.
His jaw was clenched.
It was unfair. I was the one who had been in danger, and yet, he was angry. I admit I shouldn’t have wandered so far, but his reaction was too much.
He ignored my question and started to leave the room. He made it all the way to the door before throwing back one final demand. "And drink your damn tea!" he growled with ferocity.
I looked down at the pages and began to read.
The Unseelie Queen
Legendary and ancient, the Unseelie Queen is one of a kind. She is older than the isle’s Great Oak. She walks in mist and darkness, and only the damned know her true face. Though her attire may change, she is known to wear a crown of human bones.
My stomach turned as I read the words "human bones." How close had I come to becoming a part of that horrific crown? I read on.
She is the ruler of the unseelie, the court of malevolent fae who prefer cruelty and chaos. Her court’s loyalty to her is immense.
She hunts and preys on mortals and seelie alike. If footsteps fall in darkness, if you walk not the night path alone, she is with you. She will whisper to you, echoing your deepest desires. If you reply, you have entered her web.
Mortals are her easiest prey. She often stalks their world. For upon them, her power is the greatest. Rarely, she needs to speak to them at all. She has claimed thousands. One word from their weak, fallible lips, and they belong to her. Never to be seen in light again. Swallowed in her darkness. Enslaved for eternity.
The best defense is awareness. If you hear the sounds of footfalls or feel her presence, do not speak, and do not run. Block her words from your mind. Return to the light. She will not follow.
