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Char gave her life so I could find freedom, the least I can do is pay that forward and help someone else. Hopefully it won’t result in my life ending to do so.
I can only pray it’s not too big of a hassle to pay off my debts.
ten
Did the Faerie Prince Just Flirt With Me?
Alessia
I spend the entire day with Das Celyn, helping them cook, clean, and care for the castle. I wanted to hate it. Wanted to hate them. But there was peace in the routine. And luckily, the prince still hasn’t sought me out for punishment.
If this is his form of punishment, I will take it over the lord’s nicest days, a thousand times over.
When I return to my room, I notice all the stuff is picked up from the hallway. Everything is placed back in its spot, and Fern is long gone.
There’s a piece of paper on my bed with nothing but a bright red kiss on it—as if someone pressed the paper to their mouth. Fern’s lipstick. Something tells me she cleaned up as a way of saying thanks.
Gods know we can’t actually say the word around here.
The next morning, after a fitful bout of sleep, Das Celyn wordlessly brings me a tray of fruits and oats. I dress and follow them around the castle again, mopping, sweeping, washing, and keeping the space impeccably clean.
It’s almost soothing, going through the motions embedded into my being.
Anytime I test out the magical barrier, it stops me. Like Fern said, it acts like it truly knows my intentions. When I’m upholding my tasks, it allows me to move freely throughout the property. But when I intend to divert or escape, it traps me.
As the days continue to pass, I do as I’m told like the good little Dolly I’ve been taught to be, minus the leery looks, whippings, and grabby fingers. I notice that with the healing cream, proper nutrition, and rest, I’m feeling better than I have in a very long time.
It almost feels safe, but perhaps that’s because the prince hasn’t been around.
Sadly, I haven’t seen Ken or Fern either. When I walk the hallways with Das Celyn, assisting them with tasks, I find myself scanning for the shifter and human, only to come up short.
The few other faeries I cross paths with either ignore me, or they’re obnoxiously rude toward me. They make Das Celyn and Fern seem like saints. The only solace I have is that their cruelty is doled out in narrowed glances, sharp tongues, and silent treatments. At least I’m spared the physical violence I’ve grown accustomed to.
“They blame you for the prince’s foul mood,” Das Celyn tells me as we knead dough for fresh baked bread.
I punch the dough, taking out some of my annoyance on the rising yeast. Das Celyn snickers beside me. They throw a hand-towel over my shoulder so I can wipe my hands when I’m finished. There’s flour everywhere, but there’s also no pressure to clean it up as I go. We’re able to focus solely on baking right now—one thing at a time—which brings great relief.
“Maybe they should blame the arse responsible instead,” I mutter.
It’s been a week since I pelted him with that tin in the garden. Clearly he’s harboring a grudge.
“Aren’t you growing sassy?” Das Celyn’s lips twitch, and my chest flutters with pride at cracking the stoic faerie’s shell.
A few days later, Das Celyn surprisingly tells me I have the day off. I’ve never been given a day off before, and I almost expect it to be a trick. The only reason I believe them is because they’re dressed in white slacks and a maroon top—no eggshell apron in sight.
Unsure of what to do with myself, I dress in a pale pink sundress and try to exit the room, only to hit the invisible barrier.
With a sigh, I decide not to press my luck. I’m biding my time. I’m safe. And I’ll be out of here soon enough. And honestly? It hasn’t been all bad. I’m growing fond of my time around Das Celyn.
Standing by the window in my room, I watch birds and squirrels flit around the garden. A moment later, Ken enters the grassy area in the middle of the yard down below.
He’s in brown trousers with a leather vest and scabbard attached to his back. I wonder if he’s been out in the woods, protecting the castle.
But if the woods are as terrifying as everyone says, then how come he can navigate it unharmed?
A flashback to the hallucinations I experienced my first day in Avylon causes me to shudder. I wonder if the woods affects humans more deeply—some sort of protections should they enter the Gleam uninvited.
Before I can ponder that question any further, the prince steps into sight down below.
