Page 3 of My Fae Lady

Giselle

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Shaking off the last of the blackberry brambles and ivy, I opened the door to Rook Manor. My home. The legacy of my Seelie father and the dowry I planned to keep for myself.

I didn’t understand why my human cousins wanted to claim the estate as their own. Certainly, Rook Manor was a marvel, but even my entirely fae father preferred to disappear deep into the hinterlands of Faerie rather than spend time here. Everyone called my home uncanny. Unseelie. Like Lord Scratch.

I shuddered, shaking off the effects of bargaining with the fae who was more forest than man, and stepped into Rook Manor. “Don’t worry, House,” I said, patting the wall. “I won’t let them have you.”

The large, arched front door had opened directly into a large bathing chamber this time, making me smile. I wasn’t sure I had ever seen this one before, the sunken tub large enough to fit half a dozen people, the tile a deep green that matched the blackberry leaf that drifted to the floor when I shook out my hair. Steam rose from the full tub, and the scent of lavender filled the room.

“Thank you, I would like to wash off the forest.”

House anticipated my needs less and less often of late. The power flowing through it was drying up, and I couldn’t figure out why. There was still enough magic that I didn’t fear the house suddenly dying—not yet—but Rook Manor was no longer as responsive as it had once been, its magic sluggish. Even so, it remained a powerful entity, a sentience no one fully understood. A sentience that didn’t want me trekking mud and twigs into its depths.

I slipped into the bath, the water the perfect temperature, and leaned my head back. “We’ll figure this out,” I told House, as I had so many times before. My words no longer rang with conviction, though. I didn’t doubt my ability to untangle the flows of wild, Unseelie, and Seelie magic, given the opportunity to continue my studies, but my cousin’s latest act might rob me of that chance.

For now, I had to focus on ensuring Cousin Douglas didn’t rip me away from Rook Manor. Then I could go back to my experiments and find the solution it needed. I would repay my home for all it had done for me over the years. I was Seelie enough to hate the sense of debt that built when I remembered every instance of House doing something just to make me happy and comfortable. But more than that, Rook Manor was my closest companion. I would not see it die, even if I had to get married to save it.

After my bath, I wrapped myself in a thick dressing gown and made my way to my bedroom. It had been the third door on the left of any hallway since before I could remember, and even now when rooms disappeared at random to conserve magic, Rook Manor didn’t change that.

My sleep was fitful at best, and I woke well before dawn. Not knowing when Lord Scratch might arrive to finalize our bargain, I knew I needed to distract myself so that I didn’t spend the day fretting. I had dozens of projects to work on, but the delicate magic required for my experiments was beyond me at present.

I’d have to write to my family instead. A task hardly better than fretting, but at least it was active. A cup of tea and a hefty dollop of clotted cream on my jam-slathered scone fortified me for the task. My breakfast complete, I opened doors until I came to a study. It didn’t take too many tries; apart from my suite, I spent most of my time in the library, dining room, or study. Those rooms stayed close to the surface.

“This is perfect,” I told House. “Could you bring me the letter from Caro?”

Even if Lord Scratch came through—and I had to believe he would, as I had no alternate solutions—I still had many plans to make to ensure I kept my inheritance.

I seated myself behind the mahogany desk, pulled out the right-side drawer, and retrieved the letter. With a single focused thought, I formed a faelight over the desk and reread the document. Caro—Miss Caroline Aislar—lived in Windonbury, the capital city of the human kingdom of Alidra, and had heard rumors about my family. My dear friend had then done everything she could to discover the facts and share them with me.

According to her, my cousin, who was actually my second cousin thrice removed, planned to declare my father dead. Though Douglas acted in the duke’s name whenever my father disappeared for a jaunt into Deep Faerie—which happened more often than not—that wasn’t good enough for him. He wanted the title for himself. In two weeks, he’d present his case, arguing Father’s most recent absence of seven years necessitated declaring the Third Duke of Plantagaia deceased.

The scoundrel had always resented the fact that my father refused to pass on his title, as most of the older fae who grew bored with the human realm did. Father was the only child of the first Duke of Plantagaia’s eldest son and one hundred percent Seelie. Douglas, on the other hand, descended from the younger son, a line that had intermarried more with humans and was several generations removed from the first duke.

He had barely any fae blood, but he was still my closest paternal relation after Father. Moreover, he had connections and power in Alidra.

I had to act fast if I didn’t want to lose my home and watch Rook Manor die a slow death in uncaring hands.

Caro, the goddesses’ light shine on her, had gone so far as to speak with several solicitors before sending me her report. If I wrote to everyone now, informing them of my intent to visit Windonbury, the judge would have to call on me as the last person to see Father. Not that my testimony that the duke was alive and simply unconcerned with mortal measures of time would carry much weight. Still, it would place one more obstacle in Douglas’s path to proving his case.

While everyone focused on whether my father could legally be declared dead, however, I’d be getting married and claiming my dowry. If the former mayor of Windonbury—and my father’s oldest friend—Mr. Hilferty stood as witness at my wedding before the hearing, no one could argue against my right to claim my dowry. Once that was done, Douglas couldn’t take Rook Manor from me, even if he was named duke.

So long as I had the house, I didn’t care what became of the title. Father could deal with Douglas when he returned. It would serve him right for not bothering to pop up even once to say hello in seven years.

My plan was at once both painfully simple and nearly impossible to pull off. No doubt I could find a fortune-hunter willing to marry me on short notice, but I wouldn’t risk marrying a man who might try to assert control over my life and property. Nor would Mr. Hilferty use his connections to help me obtain the necessary license for a speedy wedding if he thought my groom wasn’t up to snuff. But if I used an Unseelie bargain to bind a man capable of convincing Mr. Hilferty that he’d make a suitable husband . . .

My groom would play the part of doting fiancé, sign the human papers necessary, and then disappear from my life.

Goddesses’ light, I hoped Lord Scratch could find me the man I needed. It was a risk to trust him, but I had no other choice. Fate had provided me with an Unseelie fae practically in my backyard. I didn’t have the time to travel farther south and find another. If I wanted the certainty of a bargain, Lord Scratch was my only option. With an Unseelie as intermediary, whoever he found would be bound by bargain magic the same as me. I wasn’t worried about upholding my end of the deal. I couldn’t be forced to give up my firstborn if I never had a child at all. That was the key to fae bargains: so long as I technically met the terms, my intent didn’t matter.

Pulling out a fresh sheet of paper, I began composing a letter to my maternal cousin. I had always gotten along better with my mother’s relatives than my distant paternal relations in the human realm. I told Daphne to expect me in Windonbury within a fortnight, knowing she’d tell everyone of her acquaintance. Douglas would have no chance of keeping my imminent arrival secret from the judge. After sealing that letter, I began one to another cousin, then a third.

In none of the letters did I mention the husband I planned to bring. I attached the envelopes to a messenger stone that would carry them to the human post office at the edge of Faerie and calculated how long it would take them to reach their recipients in Windonbury. The simple tally of the days broke through the hyper-focus that had kept me in a state resembling calmness since reading Caro’s letter the morning before. I only had two weeks.

Two weeks.

My breaths came faster and faster. What if Lord Scratch didn’t find a suitable candidate? He hadn’t hesitated over my requirements, but we also hadn’t finalized the agreement yet. He could disappear back into his ash tree without consequence if he wanted. Should I have bargained with him to ensure he would actually come to mediate the final terms between myself and my future husband?