The Dark Fae (The World of Fae #1)(27)

The man struck a match, then lighted a lantern. A bulldog-looking man with dark brown hair and cold gray eyes stared at her.

Was he a dark fae?

He wore no medallion. But then he wouldn’t. Not if he was just a guard or something.

She glanced down at her clothes. Gone were Ritasia’s beautiful sea green gowns, her hair clips and the golden medallion emblem of the Neferon minor royalty. Now Alicia wore a dingy brown wool tunic and brown trousers and a pair of moccasin-like leather shoes.

Alicia’s stomach revolted as the bile rose to her throat when she breathed in some more of the nauseously putrid odor. Her throat was parched, and she wondered how long she’d been in this prison.

“Dragon fae,” the man sneered.

“Where am I?”

He motioned to the door. Another man, this one tall and thin, escorted a woman into the room. Her ash blond hair was woven into a single braid that trailed down her back. Her eyes were nearly the same olive green as Alicia’s and widened to see her as a splinter of recognition flitted across them. Did the woman recognize her? As in, she looked familiar like a relative of someone the woman already knew?

Alicia’s skin crawled with the idea that she might be known by a race of fae she’d never met.

The woman wore clothes similar to Alicia—fae prison garb? She appeared to be not much older than Alicia. And she was a prisoner, too, as her hands were manacled. The woman took a deep breath and bowed her head slightly in greeting.

Alicia had only seen males do that when they greeted royalty or lords that outranked them. She was certainly not royalty. And if she had been, the woman should have curtseyed to her. Was the woman trying to signal her in some way? Her eyes remained riveted to Alicia as if she was trying to determine who she was, or where she had seen her before.

“Do you know this dragon fae?” the bulldog of a man asked, his voice irritatingly gruff.

“She is not one of my people,” the woman said, with firm confidence.

And yet Alicia sensed the woman meant just the opposite. She could have sworn the woman recognized her.

“She has the archery skills of one of your kind,” the man argued.

“That may be so, but I have never seen the woman before in my life.” She stepped closer to Alicia. “Let me see your hand.”

Alicia showed her the palm of her hand, wondering what that had to do with anything. The woman squeezed her hand, then whispered, “Make a fist.”

Alicia did as the woman commanded. As soon as she did, she felt a thin metal object in her hand. A key? Was the dragon fae trying to help her to escape?

Why wouldn’t the dragon fae escape herself using the key? Why aid a total stranger?

Because, though the woman said she didn’t know her, she assumed the woman thought otherwise. And Alicia had found the fae were inordinately curious creatures.

“I don’t know her,” the woman said, matter-of-factly. “She might have been at one of the minor kingdoms. She is not from the royal kingdom of Morcalon.”

“Put this one back in her cell,” the guard said.

The woman tilted her chin up with a proud air, then cast a nearly imperceptible smile at Alicia.

The other guard roughly escorted the woman out of the cell, and Alicia felt for her, wanting to protect her at the same time.

“Where am I?” Alicia asked, turning her attention to the bulldog guard.

“The dungeon where all good dragon fae belong.”

“The dungeon at Venicia?”

“It would have been the first place Prince Deveron would have looked. No, you are far from there. But you will not interfere with Princess Lorelei’s plans to wed the dark fae prince any further.”

“What will become of me?” She shouldn’t have asked. She imagined the guard wouldn’t really be privy to court justice. On the other hand, she couldn’t help but want to know how bad things could get.

He smiled a despicably sinister smile. “You wouldn’t want to know.”

Yeah, she did…well, kind of. She had to know how desperate she should be.

But she also wanted him to remove his ugly carcass out of the cell and leave her alone so she could unclench her fist and see if the dragon fae did indeed press a key into her hand.

“Sleep well, false princess. Word will be sent at once to Queen Irenis. I’m certain she will want to know more about you and your relationship with her son, spy. Rest assured, she won’t be as nice as me.”

He walked out of the room and slammed the door shut.

A warm sunlight began to glow faintly in the distance through a large low window. Why would they have windows with no bars?

Because the fae who were prisoners were manacled and had no chance at escape. Besides, if a prisoner did manage to free his or herself, she wouldn’t need a window. The prisoner would just transport herself. If they were a whole fae, unlike her.

She shivered. The chill in the air cloaked her in a frigid blanket. As soon as he left, she opened her hand and smiled to see a small key. She twisted it in the lock on her left manacle and heard a click as it unlocked it, felt a smidgeon of relief—she was far from being free—then she quickly worked on the other.

But if the door were locked and guarded, she’d only have the window as a means of escape. Hopefully she didn’t reside in a tower with sheer sides, no way to climb down, and a hundred foot or more drop to a rocky death.