Page 68 of A Thief Among Fae

“Hmm.” Auri grabs a knife, and I lean back, just in case. The bread sinks as she slices the end off. Then a strange look flickers across her face. Indecision. I don’t think I’ve seen her hesitate before. “Care for some jam, human?”

I roll my eyes. “My name is Cyn, fae. Don’t use mine and I won’t use yours.”

Her lips press into a thin line before she speaks. “So you have no fear of the folk. Is the reason stupidity or ignorance?”

The conceit in her voice grates on me even more than the insult itself. Her bread knife wobbles until I force my wayward magic back inside me.

“Fae are not as terrifying as you think,” I reply, but it’s forced. A lie. How could I not be afraid of the fae after Gashil’s attack? The bone-chilling nightmare of Evie’s blood-soaked body has haunted me more than I want to admit.

Auri looks between me and the knife, then frowns with scorn. “Do you think you can fool me?”

“Let me rephrase. You don’t terrify me. But Gashil⁠—”

She stabs the knife into the counter and shouts, “How dare you call him fae!”

I flinch. My knuckles whiten as I grip the seat of my chair. “I saw his ears. They were undeniably⁠—”

“Fomorian.” She pulls the knife free and glares down at it. “They’ve been enemies of the fae far longer than your rapacious people have been.”

I track every movement of the knife as she wipes the crumbs off it. “Then that proves my point. I grew up with the stories of the fae, the deceitful bargains, maidens vanishing. But where I’m from, there hasn’t been a disappearance in over a decade.”

“You can thank the High Court’s prince for that. ‘Kidnapping and glamouring mortals is immoral,’ he said.” She scoffs in disgust.

“It is immoral,” I argue. Yet I’m surprised that Desmond would enforce that, when Avedor has enslaved his own people.

“The unseelie don’t abide by it, and I agree with them for once,” Auri says. “What’s a few kidnappings when you invade our lands, steal our resources, and show mercy only in exchange for vows of bondage?” She squeezes the knife’s hilt, and her tone grows cold. “When the tides turn, you will be afraid.”

A shiver crawls down my spine. The malice in her voice alone is enough to make me believe it, but I don’t want her to know. I’m tired of being weak. So I laugh like none of it unsettled me, then ask, “Is that a threat?”

Auri kicks the leg of my chair. I fall. My skull thunks against the floor, and pain sucks the air from my lungs.

She presses the knife underneath my chin, jerking my head up. I fling my fists, but she takes the hits like she’s made of stone. She clenches my forehead, forcing my gaze to hers. Terror rips through me as I realize how much danger I’m in. She’s ruthless. She despises me. And we’re utterly alone.

“Maybe it is,” she says with a sneer. “Now stop breathing.”

The command reverberates through my mind, igniting an inexplicable desire to obey. I stare at her, mesmerized by the amber of her eyes and the dark kohl rimming her lashes. My chest ceases to rise, and my last breath lies stale against my tongue.

“Is there anyone around to hear you scream? Oh, right. I suppose that doesn’t matter when you can’t use your voice.” She menacingly smiles. “It’s torturous, isn’t it? To know I’m prying apart your weak mortal mind, and you can’t do a thing to stop it.”

The lack of air makes my ears ring. Her voice sounds like it’s echoing across a valley. My eyes widen, pleading as I stare into hers, sharp and uncaring.

“The difference between us, human, is I’ve earned my confidence,” she continues. “Not only did I survive two weeks alone in the Forgotten Forest, evading its twisted magic and flesh-hungry flora, but I entered with only my clothing. I trained in the art of battle underneath commanders who broke me, only to build myself up again. And do you know what?” Her glare holds a storm of wrath, and her grip tightens. “That training is outlawed by your people. You want us weak and obedient and hopeless, but I will never give in.”

Please, I beg her with my gaze, the edges of my vision darkening and the ringing drowning out her laughter.

She tsks and rises over me, but her glamour doesn’t let me go. “Breathe. Stand.”

My body jerks to obey, even as the sudden movement makes my head pound and my vision splotchy. Air floods my chest, so quickly that I almost choke on it.

“Would you care for some jam? It’s made from a rare berry.” I’m forced to watch as she fetches a jar from the cupboard. She slides the pink translucent jam toward me, along with the knife. A plate with a slice of bread follows.

“Serve yourself,” she commands.

I don’t want to. My gut screams that there’s something wrong with it. But I can’t disobey.

The world sways as I unscrew the lid. I dip the knife into the jam. Each facet shines in the light like a polished gem, yet it wobbles as I spread it on the bread. Its scent is cloying.

“More.”