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“It’s okay, Alessia,” Eoin whispers so only I can hear him. “I’ve got you.”
My fear of Rainer calling the lord and lady back spurs me into action. Eoin gently takes my hand, leading me to his side of the table. Every few feet, my head swings around, vigilant in case they return.
I’d much rather sit here in a hideous dress, for the fae prince’s entertainment, than be back in the lord’s grip.
It’s choosing between a demon and a devil. How can one pick when they’re both equally horrible in their own way? In fact, there’s a saying I once heard: “better the devil you know, than the one you don’t.”
I disagree with that sentiment.
Sometimes the devil you know is the worst one of all.
Seeing my former owners reminds me of what I escaped from. Anything is better than going back with the lord, especially without Char there to comfort and protect me.
I slink down into the seat next to Eoin, across from Rainer. Mortification gnaws on me. I’m embarrassed they all saw me at my weakest, again.
With a sniffle, I wipe the last of the moisture from my cheeks with the heel of my hand before sitting up tall.
“You’re safe, Alessia,” Eoin says. He keeps our fingers interlaced on my lap, caressing the back of my hand with his thumb.
I avoid looking at Rainer, even though his intense gaze burns a hole into me. I want to beg, plead with him not to give me back to the lord.
“Whatever you saw wasn’t real,” Rainer mutters.
Gripping Eoin’s hand tightly, as if I can draw courage from him, I finally glance at Rainer. His jaw tics as he looks from me to Eoin, back to me again, but he doesn’t say anything further. His usual coldness slides back into place.
“That was amazing, little human! Most humans, hells, most fae can’t handle—”
“Ken,” Viv interrupts.
She mimics a shut it motion with her hand, and Ken puts his meaty paws up in a submissive gesture. “My bad.”
His eyes glow with excitement when he looks at me.
“What do you mean he wasn’t real? What about the lady? She slapped me.” My hand flies up to my right cheek, still smarting from the smack.
But it starts coming together as my adrenaline wears off and my heart rate finds its baseline.
Magic.
The prickling sensation I experienced right before I saw the lord and lady.
Prince of Fear.
Like the magic in the Cursed Wood—magic, Ken said, belonging to Rainer.
It was—
“An illusion,” Rainer says. “Whatever you saw was one of your fears manifested. Minds are a fickle thing. Sometimes we believe something so fully that it presents itself in physical form, such as an injury, but it’s merely a parlor trick.”
I grit my teeth, steadying my breath before speaking.
“How could you? How could you?” My voice is borderline hysterical, and I work hard to tamper down my emotions.
When Rainer doesn’t reply, Ken speaks up. “Rainer is a fearcaller.”
“She was asking a rhetorical question, Ken,” Viv admonishes under her breath.
I’m outraged. It’s incredulous that this haughty brute would use his powers against me, to trick me like that.
