Page 58 of A Lady’s Guide to Fae Kings

Chapter Fourteen

Seeing as she was trapped in Elphame anyway, Pippa decided she ought to explore a little. Because Hedgewort was correct—why waste this rare chance? What if she survived this and went home with only memories of the trials and an abandoned Hall?

And a Pegasus drinking from moonlight.

Just remembering it made her sigh.

But she could hardly write the Definitive Guide to Fae Kings, or How to Avoid the Faery Tithe, with so little to work with. And since she was no longer a Librarian, she was going to need some other form of employment. Faery guide books were as good a plan as any.

Thinking of the Library made her throat hurt.

Stop that, she told herself. We can fret about that later.

Perhaps she might find one of the sacred fairy trees, or the river that ran with prophecies. There was a whole floor of books dedicated to the subjects at the Library.

Stop thinking about the Library.

She was far from Hallow, tucked into a shining silver house of branches and blossoms with a handsome, enigmatic professor who took her to moonlit grottos.

And then made her whimper with pleasure.

Stop thinking about Lachlan too, she added for good measure.

It felt strange to leave Thorn Hall and its web of red ribbons behind. They seemed to stretch out farther than they had before, looping past the garden walls where the mists rolled and danced. She wondered what Lachlan was doing and then reminded herself that she did not care.

She was only half successful.

The moors, thankfully, were very distracting. The purple heather and yellow gorse she was used to were complemented by tiny, silvery bell flowers that rang with a light, airy sound. Golden sparkles moved on the wind and clung to leaves and mossy boulders with eyes. Even the flowers had eyes, tracking her. She saw a magenta snake with delicate wings, a hare with antlers, several of the crows with three eyes, who cawed at her shrilly. She curtsied at the crows and they laughed, a cheerful, raucous sound.

She knew the rudimentary rules of fairy tales: be courteous to all creatures but don’t say thank you. Guard your name. Don’t eat the fruit. She knew those rules even if she did not quite know the rules of this particular fairy tale she found herself in.

The crows followed her for a while before growing bored. The moors ended at the edge of the woods, the kind those same stories warned about. But what did that matter? She was already trapped. Already fighting when she was more suited to sorting books.

Although she had defeated the Red Ladies in the end. And claimed one of the keys. She admitted to a small swell of pride at that. It might not be enough to save her in the end, but it was still something. And it meant she still had a chance, however slim.

A herd of winged deer were gathered under the oaks, and they lifted their heads at her approach. The white spots on their back were shaped like stars. The light was gold and green and restful, like something out of a dream. She wandered closer and they went back to eating berries that glittered like sunstones. She felt calm for the first time in days. Peaceful.

First mistake.

Although the leaves were a thick, tangled canopy over her head, she knew the exact moment the clouds tattered around the sun. The gold went sharp on leaf point and silver creek water. A round yellow bird flew away.

Pippa came to a halt.

Just inside the woods, a fairy ring glowed. It looked innocuous, but only in the way that certain poisonous mushrooms looked like the kind you could eat for your supper. Or the way some venomous snakes were beautiful in order to lure you closer.

An apt metaphor for the Fae, now that she thought of it.

The warning echoed in her mind: To run is to call the Hunt.

She took a step back, but already the thrum of ghostly hooves was in her ear. She had stared at the gate too long, and with too much longing. The grass was that impossible emerald green, the toadstools red as rubies, red as the mark left by a lover’s desperate mouth. The pull she felt was visceral. The Library waited on the other side.

The pull turned to a push.

Mostly because someone had shoved her.

Pippa stumbled, trying to catch herself. She fell to her knees, only narrowly avoiding hurling her entire body into the circle. Her hand glanced off a mushroom; grass tugged at her fingers, her wrists.

Horse hooves sounded a loud warning.