Page 2 of My Fae Lady

“If you agree to my terms, I’ll give you my firstborn.” She spoke so quietly that even with my excellent hearing I almost couldn’t make out her words.

Her tone and her willingness to give up the one thing I knew mortals always held dear surprised me and made me curious in turn. I wanted to see her, to read her face. I tried to blink my vision clear, but my eyes stung and watered, obscuring her further. I moved closer and filled my lungs with her. The green scent of ivy and the tart smell of blackberries hit my sensitive nostrils.

“Why are you wearing all of that?” I waved a hand at her. Ivy dangled from her shoulders, crushed blackberries stained her clothes, and leaves clung to her hair. She smelled like she’d rolled about on the forest floor before coming to disturb my slumber.

Her chin lowered. “It was supposed to disguise me so I could get closer without being identified as a threat. I didn’t want you to eat me before I’d said a word.”

Laughter burst from my lips, and she jumped.

“I don’t actually eat children, regardless of whether or not they’re covered in muck,” I said, still chortling. That’s what all humans were to me. Silly children. Young and weak, with no magic of their own. Granted, plenty of Unseelie did eat them. Personally, I preferred venison or pheasant.

Her eyes narrowed to dagger points, and the color changed from dark, determined indigo to an angry shade of emerald, the Seelie in her making itself known. I could smell it then, that crisp scent mingling with the tart berries and the salt of mortal blood. Her fae magic.

“I’m 203 years old, my lord,” she bit out. “I’m no child.”

Not a mortal, then, and certainly not a child. I pressed my palms to my eyes until they finally cleared. Her skin was dewy and golden, blending well with the mahogany strands that curtained either side of her slender face. Beneath the greenery she’d festooned herself with, her clothing was fine, skirt and cloak long enough to trail in the underbrush. Seelie were as beautiful as they were treacherous and usually sharp-boned and all edges. Her human half softened her.

I wondered what I looked like to her. Tall ears, sharp teeth, long wild raven hair, and clothing made of feathers and fur. No doubt she saw a beast when she gazed upon me. I was a fae so old time meant little to me. Clothing held no value beyond keeping me warm while I slept, but it meant a great deal to humans and the Seelie who bred and bonded with them.

“What is it that you want in trade?” I rasped.

“I’ve lived in peace for years,” she explained, her tone turning urgent. “My mortal relatives had all but forgotten about me and my estate in Faerie. But my father has been absent for a while now, and this morning I received a letter. For one reason or another, my relatives have remembered me and the wealth of my house. Worse still, they’ve remembered that I’m a woman.”

I squinted at her. “What’s that matter?”

The lady let out a long-suffering sigh. “Society has rules about who can inherit and hold an estate. As it now stands, my home is mine only as part of my dowry. If I don’t marry soon, authority over my estate will be transferred to another in my father’s absence: my oldest living male relation, some human child in his thirties. A man I hardly even know.”

“They can do all of that with just a piece of paper?”

Her eyes returned to a determined shade of blue as she rolled them at me. “There are laws—rules—where I come from that everyone must abide by.”

“The forest has laws,” I grumbled.

“The law of strength doesn’t apply to me. I can’t just do as I please like your lot. One cannot simply take what they want and keep it so long as they can hold on to it. Proper society doesn’t work that way,” she explained, her tone condescending. “I need a man willing to marry me in name alone, and I need my groom to be bound to me by Unseelie bargain to prevent any treachery. My cousin plans to have my father declared dead in a human court very soon, and my only option for preventing the loss of my dowry is to marry now. And then, when the humans are satisfied and the house is truly mine, my groom can . . .” She flapped a flippant hand at my tomb. “He can return to his trees or wherever it is he likes.”

There was more to her story, I sensed, but I was willing to leave the finer details alone for now. “Where is this estate?”

She’d smothered her own smell with berries and ivy, but I caught more of her peppery scent as a breeze stirred her skirts and yanked loose strands of her hair across her brow so that they stuck to her lips. “Rook Manor, just north of here.”

My eyes widened at that, and my heart thumped once, hard against my breast, before halting for a moment that felt like an eternity. “You’re a Barton.”

“I am. Lady Giselle Barton. Is that a problem?”

I fought the urge to grind down the points of my teeth. My jaw clenched. “I’ll take your bargain. In exchange for your firstborn—”

“I don’t have a firstborn,” she warned me.

I didn’t care about that at all, not anymore, but the Seelie had cunning. She’d be suspicious if I didn’t demand something of great value. “When you have one, you’ll hand them over to my service. In the meantime, I’ll bring you a man willing to marry you in name alone.”

“And then afterward . . . this man, he’ll leave me in peace, yes?”

“Yes,” I said. “He’ll leave you to your peace after your ceremony.”

“Very well then.” She hoisted her skirts up so they sat atop her boots, freeing them from the underbrush. “Come to my home tomorrow morning, and we can finalize our bargain after I’ve had a chance to inspect this man you will provide me with for my marriage plot. Only then will I agree to this arrangement in full.”

The humans had forgotten her, she’d said. Apparently, the Bartons had forgotten me. Forgotten who’d put me in my tree in the first place. Oh, I’d meet with her, and I’d take this bargain all right. And then I’d reclaim what was mine.

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