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Phillipa
A satisfied smile spread across Phillipa’s face every time the arrow sliced through the center of the bullseye, which was every time she shot it from her bow. She hadn’t practiced in a while, which was a shame, because she delighted in picturing how the arrow would pierce the Wolven King’s skin—
Fur?
Would he dress like a noble? Did he wear any clothing at all? Margaret had found her in the garden before Ainslee had a chance to answer her questions about the Wolven King. And she had so many. What was his body like? Was he more man than beast?
She drew back her bow, imagining the look on his face when he realized he’d been bested by a human. The muscles between her legs pulsed in response. She squeezed her thighs together, hoping none of the other ladies noticed what was happening. But all she could think of was the Wolven King. How he’d react to the scent of her arousal. What it would be like to have him touch her…
No, she could not be so distracted by the dreadful wolven when it was her mission to get revenge for her woodland friends. The wolven would count on the fae not being able to avenge their own suffering but he would not expect her to be willing to do it for them.
For this attack to be successful, the element of surprise would be paramount.
Ainslee landed on the end of her next arrow. “What are you doing out here? It’s time to head to the Monsters Ball!”
“Practicing my aim. And you need to be careful.” Phillipa whispered as she lowered the bow. She’d been caught many times talking to her friend, but none of her family claimed to have ever seen the fae. “My sister has company, and they’re walking on the grounds.”
“I’m coming to the Ball with you.” Ainslee fluttered in front of her. “I couldn’t help but tell the elders about the invite and your plan, and they insist it’s too dangerous for you to proceed alone. Without magic, anyway. They’re not comfortable with me going either, but they’ve taught me some new spells and seem satisfied that will be sufficient to keep you safe.”
Phillipa raised a brow, amused by her friend’s exuberance. “Are you sure that’s the only reason you’re coming?”
Her little cheeks flushed. Today she was in her full pink, purple, shiny glory. “If you go without me, you’ll be fixated on the infuriating the Wolven King and miss all the good stuff. I just want to see the castle! Hear the music. I swear I’ll stay in your room, no one will see me! I promise. I can help you get ready, and make sure you have all the stones you need in the proper placements for the utmost protection.”
“Fine. You may come.” Phillipa laughed. There was no talking the fae out of anything once she set her mind to it. It would be a relief to have a friend there. Margaret would be going with her, but she wouldn’t be able to talk to her about the Ball like she would with Ainslee.
The only reason Phillipa was excited about the Ball was to gather information on the Wolven King. Would she actually be able to carry through her mission of killing the beast? What would happen if she did?
She’d always imagined the encounter taking place deep in the woods, with very few, if any, witnesses. She’d take a trophy from her victory and present it to the fae, so they’d know they’d never be tormented by the beast again.
Sometimes, the image excited her. But other times, it saddened her. She couldn’t let herself have compassion for a wolven who drained the fae of their magic to the point it made their little hearts stop beating.
No, she had to focus on her mission. What it would be like to step intobête mondesociety and entertain stately, handsome monsters who would want to dance with her and…
Those strange flutterings between her thighs had returned.
Even if she found the idea of monsters enticing, she was a married woman. One who missed her husband dearly.
“Phillipa!” Margaret called out. She was still in the distance, but she was dressed in her best finery. Ainslee’s assessment was correct—it was time to head to Broadstone Hall.
Ainslee dove into Phillipa’s quiver as the maid came closer.
“I’m about to ready myself to travel,” Phillipa assured her. She wore her plainest morning dress, which had been stained from previous gardening endeavors. Mother cringed every time she put it on, but preparing herself to face the Wolven King was no delicate matter.
“That’s what I’ve come to talk to you about.” Margaret swallowed hard and lowered her eyes to the ground. “I’m afraid I will not be able to attend the Ball with you. Your mother is sending me to your sister Catherine’s house. She’ll be having that baby any day, and…”
“She needs you.” Phillipa’s older sister was swollen with child, but Catherine already had help, and this decision could have waited until Margaret returned from the Ball. They would be gone for less than a week. “Who will be my chaperone?”
“Oh, my lady. I despise that I’m the one to tell you this.” Margaret wrang her knotted hands. “Your mother will not allow you to go to the Ball. She’s forbidden any of the carriage drivers from bringing you to Maidenbury. Father Donnelly has arrived and if you don’t sign the annulment papers, she plans to send you to the Royal Hospital.”
Phillipa couldn’t breathe. Father Donnelly had been a fixture in Mother’s life since shortly after her father had passed. Mother insisted his guidance offered comfort, but he was the one who encouraged Mrs. Willoughby to persuade Phillipa to annul her marriage.
Phillipa wondered what he had to gain from that arrangement. Sometimes she’d even wondered if he’d known what had happened to Wesley, but to question a member of the Church would be completely scandalous.
“Mother plans to send me to that wretched place no matter if I sign those papers or not,” Phillipa muttered. Her legs were going numb, and she feared that she would pass out. She knew what happened in those places. She’d never see Wesley again, and the possibility was strong she’d never see her family, this house, or her beloved gardens again.
“Let me spell the driver,” Ainslee’s head popped out from the quiver, and Margaret’s mouth dropped at the sight of the tiny fae. She normally never showed herself to any human other than Phillipa. “I can spell you, too, and Margaret will never remember this conversation.”
“Is your magic strong enough for that?” If Phillipa let the fae work her magic on her, she’d have to promise herself to a monster, because she could never come home again. But she was about to lose everything she’d ever known whether she went to the Ball or not. Without a drastic intervention, her life was over.
