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Could the Fates truly be this cruel? Could her lot in life be any more miserable? As impossible as it was, Isa had to protect Basil Murray, and save his life to repay her debt to him—only so she could then turn around and kill him. Because as long as she owed him this debt, she couldn’t take his life. Fae magic was merciless, bound by strict rules, and she’d risk her immediate death if she violated her obligation to protect him by harming him herself.
“Are you all right?” Basil asked, his brown eyes—glowing gently in the darkness—full of concern.
“Yes, I’m fine.” Isa sat up, and her head immediately punished her for it. She flinched.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“Something like that.” Ghosts of the past, for sure. A past that came back to bite her in the butt.
“You know,” Basil said with a sheepish grin, “this is the first time a woman has swooned for me. I gotta tell you, it’s not as glamorous as they say it is.”
That spark of humor in his eyes was infectious. She absolutely wasn’t in the mood to laugh, or even smile. And yet, despite herself, a small grin sneaked its way onto her face.
“I don’t mean to pry or anything, but do you have a medical condition I should know about? Since you’re responsible for my safety and all.”
She frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Well,” Basil said, gesturing at the ground where he’d found her, “it looked like you had a seizure earlier.”
“Oh. That.” She shrugged, rose to her feet. Dusting herself off, she avoided facing him. “It’s nothing serious.”
“Looked pretty serious to me.”
Isa sighed. “You don’t need to concern yourself with that. It just…happens sometimes. I can handle it.”
She wasn’t going to tell him about the curse. To do so would be tantamount to suicide. She had to walk a fine line between acting friendly enough for him to trust her, to let her come along and protect him, and not letting herself open up to him too much. Something about him drew her in, something irresistibly likable, and yet she couldn't afford to like him. Considering what her plans for him entailed.
“What’s your name?”
She jerked around to look at him. Right. She hadn’t introduced herself yet. “Isa,” she said before her brain caught up and she realized it might have been smarter to give him a false name. Blast.
He gave her a dazzling smile, triggering unwelcome fairy flutters in her stomach.
“All right,” she said, and turned away from the sunshine of that smile. “Tell me about your changeling history. Since I am now stuck with protecting you for the time being, I may as well know how you came here and what you seek. I could help you find it while I’m waiting for the opportunity to save your life.” And then end it. She gritted her teeth.
“Okay. The short version is that, apparently, I was born in Faerie, but smuggled out to Portland by a fae female who exchanged me for a witch baby in order to protect me. I don’t know what I needed protection from, because the fae who exchanged me never actually told my mom—well, I guess I should say adoptive mother—about her real reasons for smuggling me out of Faerie. The fae who exchanged me put a glamour spell on me to hide my fae appearance and powers, and she also put a silence spell on my adoptive mother.” He shrugged, one corner of his mouth tugging up in a half-smile. “Basically I grew up thinking I was nothing more than a powerless male born to a witch line, an anomaly without an explanation.”
The hint of bitterness in his tone let her know a whole host of things he wasn’t saying.
“My adoptive mother, Hazel Murray, actually had two babies the night I was exchanged. The fae who swapped me took one of Hazel’s twin girls back with her into Faerie as a hostage, to ensure Hazel would protect me and raise me as her own. And I only learned about this a couple of hours ago. For some reason, the glamour on me and the silence spell on Hazel were lifted, and we think the most logical reason for the spells’ disappearance is the fae who exchanged me and worked the magic is dead. And since fae are nearly immortal, it’s very likely the one who smuggled me out was murdered. Which in turn means the daughter who was taken into Faerie—her name is Rose—may be in danger."
“Because she will be without protection,” Isa muttered.
Basil nodded. “Exactly. We have to assume Rose has had a protector since the day she was brought into Faerie. That she has been taken care of all this time, but now the fae who brought her here has died, we can’t be sure she’s still being taken care of. That’s why I’m here, in a nutshell. I need to find Rose. And I need to bring her back to Portland, to Hazel.”
Isa frowned. “Why have you come alone? Where is your adoptive mother?”
At her question, Basil’s face hardened almost invisibly. “It would have taken her too long to find another fae to take her into Faerie. I was able to go right away. I’m sure once she finds a fae to take her across the border, Hazel will follow, probably with more backup. But it can’t hurt for me to go first and try to find Rose as soon as possible.”
“I see.”
And she did. His drive to prove himself was visible to the naked eye, pouring off him in waves. Well, she would not rebuke him for it. His need to go it alone played into her hands. This way she had him without the protection of his family, could win his trust, and bide her time until she saw an opportunity to save his life—only to take it the very next moment.
An inexplicable ache spread in her chest. She breathed past it, reminding herself this was it. This was her chance, finally, to break her curse, to save her own life.
“I can help you search for Rose,” Isa said, as much to distract herself as to drive the mission forward.
“Thank you.” That dazzling smile lit his face again, lighting Isa’s veins with prickling sunshine.
