Prologue
BRIGHID
There was only one way to survive an encounter with the fae.
Look not into their eyes, for their mask conceals their true face.
Heed not their words, for riddles are woven into their songs.
Trust not their promises, for they are false.
Speak not a word, lest your tongue betray.
Turn your back, hide away.
Wash the color from your life until you no longer draw their gaze.
I'd heard those words countless times from my handmaiden. Thus far, I'd followed her advice and kept my tongue. But curiosity gnawed at my heart.
Literature depicted the fae in multiple ways—few had ever truly seen one. Rumors spoke of powerful fae lords—accounts described anything from handsome princes to wicked, twisted creatures.
The man sitting across from me was not what I expected. Ebony waves piled in a bond at the nape of his neck, and he watched me with one wary, golden eye.
True to the stories, he concealed his left eye with a black and white mask—the kind nobles wore to masquerades. A scintillating purple cloak hung around his shoulders, draping him in royalty. His shirt was unbuttoned down to the navel, and I saw human skin, tan and muscled.
Had I not known better, I might've thought him a bard. Nothing more.
Snow fell outside the window, pristine white tumbling from our eternal night sky. Warm fire burned in the tavern's hearth, casting shadows across the fae's face. Shadows that appeared as birds and people and music notes—everything they should not.
As I sat alone at a table, three wine glasses into my miserable night, he'd approached me and spoken twenty-six words.
'In fifteen weeks and two days, you will be wed. Today is the last day to escape. Say the word, and I shall whisk you away.'
Twenty-six words that had stilled my normally sharp tongue.
I'd give anything to torch every invitation that had been sent for my wretched wedding. To drive a blade through my husband-to-be's heart.
Maybe I'd even be willing to deal with a fae.
When I'd remained silent, he'd wordlessly dealt me a hand and begun a game of cards. This was the third night he'd done so. Each time, his message changed.
'Three days remain . . . '
'Only two days left, dear . . . '
'It's your last chance to escape.'
Something otherworldly surrounded the man, like the crackling air around a fire. It told me nothing, and everything.
He was no human.
Curse the old rhymes and warnings. Curiosity gnawed at me, eating through my last threads of sense.
I tucked my fiery hair behind my ears and stared my would-be benefactor down.
I was clever. Far more clever than most.
What was the worst he could do to me? I'd already been condemned to marry the devil himself.
