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From the clearing, Hector called out, “I don’t bite. Besides, Rafael would murder me if anything happened to you.”
Tossing a glance back at the road, as if expecting to see my new husband, I let out a loud sigh. A fae had wed me and left me within the space of a half hour. Not the best start to a marriage, but at least I wasn’t bound to Ortiz, which was the alternative. Perhaps Rafael’s hasty departure wouldn’t prove to be the harbinger of an unhappy, distant married life.
I lifted my chin, determined not to resign myself to eternal discontent. Plenty of people had been betrothed by their parents to complete strangers and still found love. And this marriage had been my decision. Sort of.
“Tell me he’s not a bad man,” I said to Rafael’s horse, patting her sweating neck. The horse turned a white-rimmed eye on me, as if she was laughing. I wasn’t sure what to make of that.
I nudged Rafael’s horse through the trees and into the open area where Hector was already unfastening his saddlebags. From here, I could see that there were, in fact, two tents, the second situated behind the first.
“Your quarters, señorita—I mean, señora.”
I balked at him, the first person to use my married title.
“There’s a creek over there for the horses,” he added, nodding his head to the right. “I will take them. You stay here and settle in.”
“I can take them.”
Hector took a quick half-step my direction, then eased a hand through his long hair. “No, that won’t be necessary. My brother is picky about how Lily is cared for. It’s been a long day. Go and rest.”
A flicker of fear danced inside me, but maybe I’d misread his actions. “Rafael is your brother?”
Hector ducked his head down to check his horse’s hooves. “Yes. Half-brother. I’m Hector Verano, of the Sun Court. Or, I used to be. Hector Fiero now.”
My brow pinched. Sun Court? The fae stories painted so many versions of their courts. In some stories, the fae didn’t belong to courts at all but were all solitary creatures. “Fiero,” I repeated. “Fae names change?”
He narrowed his eyes in apparent annoyance. “They can.”
When he didn’t offer further explanation, my mind turned over his words about his name. Verano was a surname of the Sun Court, and now that he wasn’t part of that court, he took on the surname Fiero. Wild. The name Romero implied a wanderer. Perhaps my fae husband was not part of a court either.
I glanced back at the nearby creek. “Is there something dangerous out there?”
Stories of mysterious beasts flooded my mind. I’d already learned the Wild Hunt was real. What if every beast of legend truly walked somewhere out there?
But instead of giving a reassuring answer, Hector simply said, “Yes,” and plucked the reins from my hands. He led the horses away, leaving me in the bright sunshine, hands on my hips.
The hot breeze ruffled my ruined dress, and a stab of disappointment flooded my veins. I hadn’t brought a scrap of home with me, unless I counted Zara’s blade. I pulled the dagger out of its sheath and studied its dull hilt. I’d accidentally stolen it.
But Zara wouldn’t care. I clutched the dagger to my chest and turned toward the tent Hector had indicated was for me.
When I threw open the tent flap, I paused. A light glowed within, revealing the most elaborate bedroom I’d ever seen. In the center was a tall bed, glowing pristinely white under a glittering chandelier and surrounded by a delicate netting to keep out the mosquitos. A carved wooden chest sat to one side of the bed and an ornate dresser on the other. A tall mirror stood in its frame to the side of the dresser.
If this was how the fae camped, I wondered what Rafael’s home would look like. A spark of excitement danced through my chest. This wasn’t exactly an estate, but if it foreshadowed what was to come, I wouldn’t complain.
At the foot of the bed, an open trunk was bursting with heaps of colorful fabric. The ruffles and the silks indicated that they were women’s clothes. I pulled one out, frowning.
Suddenly, I flung it back, slamming the lid down and turning away. There was no way I would wear another woman’s discarded clothes. I stormed out of the tent, without considering my destination. I found myself standing on the road, staring at the distant walls of Puerta de los Reyes.
“Going somewhere?”
Hector slipped from between the trees but kept to the shadows, his hands behind his back.
“The clothes, the ones in the tent,” I demanded. “Whose are they?”
“You know we have magic, yes? Your stories must have told you that much.”
A wave of uncertainty brought more sweat to my flushed skin. Magic. It was despised by some and sought by others. My father had always spat at the idea of magic, hating that some people thought they could cheat their way out of life’s discomforts or alter their own misfortunes. I closed my eyes and looked up, praying silently to the sun that my father had entered the horse and accepted the winnings. The race might already be over, and I had no way of knowing who won.
At my long silence, Hector cleared his throat.
