Page 53 of Fae Games

I sat stiffly in my seat, wondering when he would tell Caulden.

“One of the guards manhandled Unity.” Prince Caulden wrapped an arm around my shoulder and brought me close to his side. “He went with the Duke of Medietas to track down the scoundrel.”

“Hmmm,” said Prince Bradwell.

The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end, and palpitations reverberated across my chest. I glanced down at my trembling hands, breath hitching with every frantic heartbeat.

There was no lurch of the carriage as the horses flew off the ledge, but my stomach lurched anyway from the nausea of having someone who could blurt out my terrible secret.

“Prince Caulden,” I whispered.

He pressed his lips on my temple. “I told you already to call me Caulden.”

“Right.” My throat convulsed. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

“What is it?” His voice was so light and carefree, it made my chest hurt.

I withdrew from his embrace. Sitting at his side was better than having him shove me aside once he learned what Elijah had caused me to become.

Prince Bradwell already knew the story, but I couldn’t face either of them. Through trembling, shallow breaths, I spoke about my life in Doolish, about how Sicily and I had floundered when Mom had fallen ill with a wasting sickness, and Dad had disappeared, and how I had been ripe for a person like Elijah.

Humans didn’t starve on the Isle of Fae. Those who worked the land were entitled to keep a small percentage of the crops they grew for their faerie landlords. The United Nations also supplemented the stables with daily shipments of food.

Not starving didn’t mean thriving of any sort. It was hard to describe to two princes the bone-deep need for something beyond the drudgery of a bland life with no chance of advancement while those who weren’t human seemed to live with purpose.

Prince Caulden slid his hand over mine. “You can tell me.”

“About a month after we buried Mom, I sat at her grave, arranging some pebbles, and Elijah walked into the cemetery and asked me what I was doing.” A sad laugh huffed out of my throat. “Sicily and I couldn’t afford any kind of memorial, and I told him that.”

“What did he say?”

“He said he worked up at the academy, and they were always throwing things out. If I could let him set up solar panels and a television and DVD in my house, he would charge me a fixed rent.”

“Why would he suggest doing a thing like that?” asked Prince Caulden.

“It was an opportunity to make money. I could charge people to sit in our living room and watch shows from the outside world.”

“I see.” Prince Caulden rubbed his chin.

Anxiety rippled through my insides. Did he think less of me for accepting a proposition from a stranger? I had been young and naive back then, and if I had to be honest with myself, I still gave sweet-talking faeries the benefit of the doubt.

“Would you continue with your account?” asked Price Bradwell. “It would help me understand how scoundrels like him operate.”

I nodded. “It was all business at first. We lived in a two-room house, and as it was now just my sister and me, he helped us move our things into the back bedroom and to convert the front room into a spacious lounge.”

Prince Caulden nodded.

“His business idea worked,” I said. “It only took a day for us to earn enough money to cover his rental costs for the week.”

“How did things turn intimate?” asked Prince Bradwell.

My gaze darted to Prince Caulden’s whose expression blanked, and I squeezed my eyes shut and dipped my head. “After collecting the rent, he would stay for a cup of tea and a chat. Then he started bringing leftovers from the academy and staying to share them with us. He was always a hugger and gave me two kisses on the cheek, but one day he arrived before curfew with a bottle, and…”

Prince Caulden’s posture sagged with relief. He grabbed my hand and placed a kiss on my knuckles. “There’s no harm in sharing kisses and a few drinks.”

I parted my lips to tell him I hadn’t finished, but outside, everything went black. A set of lights glowed in the ceiling, blanching out Prince Caulden’s pale hair and complexion. The carriage continued moving, so I guessed we were traveling through a tunnel.

“There’s more to this story, isn’t there?” said Prince Bradwell, his voice soft.