Kate turned her apartment into a fortress. It got more out of control as the week went by. Tools, brooms, and umbrellas were tucked into every nook and cranny in case she needed a makeshift weapon. The only time she stepped out of the café was to see Greyson off at the airport, and even then, she tugged a hood over her face and slipped right into an Uber waiting at the sidewalk.
She kept everything locked, including her bedroom window. She only opened the café door when Lily showed up to help in the evenings as they scrambled to get the place ready to be a real business. There was still way too much to do, and Kate didn’t find any decent baristas to hire. Neither of them mentioned anything Kate had said about the fae.
But Wednesday carried something different in the air. The city warmed from the threat of frost, and the sun was alive and fresh instead of hiding behind clouds. Kate sat at a bistro table by the café window in her sweater with her laptop open, thinking too hard about what to write. She had an idea for a story, but every time she typed a line, she deleted it. Nothing sounded right. Not: Once upon a time a mean guy walked into a coffee shop, and I killed him… Or: On a cold autumn day, a golden-eyed demon strutted into a café and couldn’t figure out what a frappe was…
The next voice she heard in her head was Lily’s: Maybe if you actually went to your literature classes, you’d know how to write a good story.
“I resent that my conscience’s voice is the same as yours, Lily Baker,” she mumbled to the empty café, stealing a glance at the large clock on the wall that told her she only had forty-five minutes until the class began if she wanted to go. She’d skipped her classes all week.
Kate dropped her gaze to her laptop as her lips suddenly felt light. It was embarrassing to admit she’d never been kissed in her life before last week. She didn’t even tell Lily about that.
When her cheeks grew warm, Kate snuggled deeper into the chair and started her story over.
A horn sounded outside. Kate looked out the window to find an old woman gripping a large paper grocery bag in the middle of the busy road. Oranges spilled out and rolled across the asphalt as the woman teetered. Kate sprang from her seat and pushed out of the café, catching the grocery bag a second before everything could dump onto the street. Held-up cars honked their horns, and Kate cast them a look to say they could wait a little longer as she balanced the grocery bag on her hip and reached for the old woman with her free hand.
“Thank you.” The woman’s voice shook. Sweat pooled at her temples as Kate guided her the rest of the way across the road.
“Don’t mention it. And ignore the horns. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
When they reached the sidewalk, Kate glanced back at the young driver whose engine revved as he took off. “Can I carry this home for you?” she asked the old woman.
The woman breathed a shaky sigh of relief and wiped the sweat at her brows. “Are you sure you don’t have anywhere else to be?”
Kate stole a glance back at her café-fortress. She forced a smile. “Lead the way.”
The woman hobbled away from downtown. A cold wind rushed through the buildings, threatening the first snow of the season, and Kate eyed the bumps forming on the woman’s brittle, bare arms as she followed. “Don’t you have a coat?” she asked.
The woman chuckled and shook her head.
A loud gust of wind tunnelled through the street, lifting dust, leaves, and paper litter into shallow whirlwinds. Kate’s thumb ran along her knit sleeve.
Not her problem. This woman’s cold, weak, bare arms were not Kate’s problem. Kate had already helped by carrying the groceries.
She stifled an agonized noise as she set the grocery bag down, pulled off her sweater, and held it out to the woman. “Here.” There was no point in trying to fight it. Kate knew she would give in eventually and whether she handed over her sweater now or in five minutes, she would be going home without it.
The woman blinked. “Oh, I couldn’t take that!” She hugged her shivering arms to herself.
“I have a dozen more sweaters at home just like this one,” Kate insisted. “Please take it. I’ll feel better if you do.”
The woman stared at it. “What did you say your name was, young lady?” she asked, and Kate smiled.
“You can call me Kate.” She turned the sweater over to find the hole and put it over the woman’s head for her. The woman slid her arms into the sleeves.
“This is the warmest sweater I’ve ever worn!” the old woman said, and Kate laughed.
“I know.” She picked up the woman’s groceries. “My grandma made it.”
Twenty minutes later Kate waved goodbye, holding a large orange the woman had given her as a thank you. Early morning sun pounded on the roads, reflecting off moving cars like blinding mirrors. Suddenly the street felt large and empty, even with the early students and office workers dotting the sidewalks. Brittle leaves detached from nearby maples and brushed over the path ahead.
Kate hugged her cold arms to herself and began the walk home, running her thumb along the orange’s rough skin. She didn’t get gifts often. A small smile found her mouth as she pulled the orange out to look at it again. It was bright and crisp, perfect for eating.
The florist pushed a cart of fresh gourds out the front door of her shop. She nodded good morning to Kate, and Kate stifled a shiver as she nodded back. When Kate rounded the corner, the sweet scents of freshly baked bread and muffins flooded the street from the Bread Bakehouse, and she inhaled.
Peace and friendliness ruled the city this morning. For a moment, Kate wondered why she’d hid away all week. Nothing odd had happened in days.
She thought of the therapy brochures Lily left behind last week. Kate chewed on her lip as she considered that maybe she didn’t actually meet a real fae and the mythological knitting club didn’t really exist.
What a terrifying thought that was. More terrifying, maybe, than the thought of it all being real.
A guy leaned against the wall of the breakfast diner across the street from her apartment. He lifted his head as she came closer. He looked right at her, and Kate slowed her steps. His dark, curly hair was pulled back into a bun like before. He wore the same hoodie and jean jacket as when she’d spied on him eating eggs through the window.
His deep, beautiful eyes were piercing. He didn’t look away.
Kate turned around and headed in the other direction, clutching the orange tightly to herself. Her fingers flitted over the pocket of her jeans even though she knew her phone wasn’t there.
Something moved on the roof of the flower shop. A guy stood at the roof’s rail, basking in the sun, his white hair glittering. He released a deep breath and glanced down—right at where Kate stood. When he smiled at her, it was mean. It was inhuman.
It was fae.
Kate broke into a jog, pushing between couples and apologizing when she nearly shoved a girl off her feet. She swerved around moving cars to cross the road. The knitting club had abandoned her, including her supposed fairy godmother, so the only other person she could think to get to was Professor Palmer. But her feet skidded to a halt when a guy in a black coat and a high collared sweater walked down the stairs of the courthouse like he’d been waiting there. Slightly pointed ears peeked from his auburn hair.
He looked at her, too.
Kate turned and raced for the university. When she reached the block, she trampled the bed of leaves on the walkway toward the teachers’ offices, trotted up the stairs, and slipped into the crowded halls. She bounded into Professor Palmer’s office and moaned.
The light was off, and his desk was empty.
“Seriously?!”
She hid there for several seconds to catch her breath.
The hall was crowded when she went back out. Students moved between classes, carrying conversations at full volume. Someone with curly hair, a jean jacket, and pointed ears emerged from the stairwell, and Kate nearly fell backward as she tried to scramble in the other direction.
She took turns she didn’t mean to take and ducked into a narrow hall she knew. She raced to her literature class, sneaking in with only seconds to spare before the bell went off and Professor Stanner launched into a lecture. Kate tried to quiet her panting. Her heart thudded in her ears as she travelled down the aisle and took a seat at the end of a row. It took several seconds of heavy breathing and her hands clasped tightly together before she could think straight. Her orange rested before her, filling the tense air with the smell of citrus.
The fae wouldn’t try anything in front of a whole class of students, would they? Kate swallowed.
“What is with everyone coming in late these days? Hurry and find your seats!” Professor Stanner said.
Kate’s gaze slid to the back of the class, and her face blanched.
Four broad-shouldered fae strolled into the classroom. They split up—one heading to a desk in each corner of the room, except for the fourth.
The fourth came down the aisle and took the seat beside Kate. His lips curled into a smile as the weight of his turquoise eyes settled on her—right on her neck, as though he was pressing down upon her mountain tattoo with gentle fingers. His deep voice filled her head:
“Yes, run from me little human.”
“You must have known I’d come for you.”
“No one kills a fairy and lives.”
A lump formed in her throat. She should have never left the café. She thought about punching a hole into the orange with her finger and squeezing acidic juice into the fae Prince’s eyes so she could run. Her hands slowly drifted over the desk toward the fruit, and she wrapped them tightly around it.
All the sounds in the room turned to mud in Kate’s ears. She was aimed toward the front, but she couldn’t hear a word Professor Stanner said.
“You’ve been black marked, Kate Kole. The fae Prince has come to kill you. And he’ll succeed.”
The fae Prince’s turquoise eyes didn’t leave her once during the lecture. He seemed relaxed, patiently waiting for class to end. As though he knew she was trapped. As though he couldn’t wait to end her life.
Kate abandoned the shooting orange juice idea and sat on her shaking hands. She didn’t even have her phone to call Lily. But she wasn’t entirely out of options. She could beat the snot out of the fae with the orange until it was mush, at least.
When Professor Stanner paused his lecture, the quiet that came over the room was painful. Kate stole glances at the guys blocking every corner of the classroom. They were fast; the turquoise-eyed guy had beaten her to the bottom of the stairwell last week. She yanked her hands out from beneath her legs and put her palms flat on the desk’s surface.
Kate looked to the faculty door at the front of the room. It was the only other exit apart from the wide double doors at the back where she came in. The fae might expect her to try and run for the back doors. The large glass window in the faculty-only door didn’t reveal what lay beyond. The hall was dim, likely empty.
The fae Prince whispered, “Did you know,” he stole her orange and set it aside. Kate stifled a gasp as his hand slid over hers on the desk. He laced their fingers and flipped her hand over, exposing her wrist to the ceiling, “that a fae’s touch can be lethal?” His gaze felt like an anvil when he met her eyes.
Her pulse beat inside her wrist. She tried to tug her hand away, but his fingers morphed solid gray and heavy like rock, trapping her fingers beneath his. Kate’s mouth parted in horror.
At the front, Professor Stanner turned to his whiteboard, uncapping a marker lid with a pop.
Kate considered raising her hand and asking to go to the bathroom. Having the attention of the class might shake the Prince—he’d removed his hold on her in the stairwell when the other students had shown up.
She glanced at the faculty door again, and her eyes snagged on a pink string dangling from the doorknob. She went perfectly still, eyes widening as she realized what it was.
Yarn. Tied in a delicate pink bow.
“Fairies can rarely give straight answers… you’ll have to follow the signs.”
Kate slammed her eyelids shut. She kept herself still for the rest of the lecture. She felt the fae Prince’s gaze drifting over her. She felt his hand turn back into warm flesh like he was getting ready now that class was ending.
Her blood cooled as she inhaled, exhaled.
Professor Stanner stopped talking.
The bell rang.
Kate’s eyes flew open.
She tore her hand away and jumped onto the desk, grabbing her orange and drawing a startled cry from the girl in the next row as she hopped from desk to desk until she reached the front. Kate grabbed the handle of the door and flung it open, pulling it closed with her on the other side. She twisted the lock just as a hand slapped against the glass.
A set of piercing turquoise eyes absorbed Kate through the window as she took a step back. The handle shook, but the lock held. The Prince’s lips thinned, all his smiles were gone.
They stared at each other for a moment. His blue eyes were like a magnet forcing her to look back at him. She couldn’t blink. She could hardly breathe. Time seemed to stand still until she became aware of a ticking clock somewhere down the hall.
She turned and ran.
Kate’s shoes echoed over the tiles of the empty hall. She came into another dark walkway with construction tape sectioning it off. The glass doors were sealed at both ends, and students passed by them on the other side.
A bang sounded down the hall, and she shrieked.
Three doors down, a pink bow of yarn wrapped a set of door handles. As soon as Kate saw it, she moved for it. She came face-to-face with a paper sign on the glass window that read: LIBRARY IS CLOSED FOR CONSTRUCTION. NO TRESSPASSING. Kate yanked the library doors open and darted inside, wincing at the loud latch clicking shut at her back.
The library was a quiet medley of dust, shredded paper, and splayed books covering the floor. Kate inhaled damp air sweeping in from an open window. Her shoes left footprints in the dust as she ventured into the bookshelf-filled space, peering into the dark corners.
Low voices emerged from the hall. Kate ducked around a shelf and peeked through a gap between books.
The fae with white hair stood outside the library doors. He looked both ways.
Kate nearly tripped as she stepped back. She grabbed the shelf for balance, but the noise echoed through the vast space, and her eyes widened.
The white-haired fae turned his head toward the library.
Kate ditched her orange on a shelf and scrambled deeper into the books, lifting her feet to step over a strand of yarn stretched between the shelves. She paused when she realized.
The tight pink yarn wove around the corner. Kate hurried to follow it as the library entrance doors squeaked open. The yarn twisted around a post and led to a secluded shelf at the back. Kate ducked around it as the quiet sounds of footsteps drifted into the library.
They didn’t speak.
The fae were a cold presence like a nightmare Kate couldn’t wake from.
Kate’s vision went in and out of focus as she followed the yarn up the shelf to where it wrapped around a thick book at the top.
“The fairy-kind cannot speak the name of the place they are from, nor can they speak to direct any human on how to find it. It’s the same for the ancient Book of Rules and Masteries. It’s just not possible—our mouths won’t move to do it.”
“Rules and Masteries…” Kate whispered. How could a book be the help Freida was talking about?
She jumped for it, yanking the heavy tome from the shelf. Its thick cover read: THE FAIRY BOOK OF RULES AND MASTERIES.
Kate’s heart pounded as the footsteps grew nearer. She flipped the book open and slapped a finger to the page to read. The first few lines made her blink—she was sure she was seeing incorrectly. The stress was blurring her eyesight.
She took in all the eloquent text, then she flipped to the next page that said:
…But beware: This act is entirely forbidden.
Enslaving a fairy comes with consequences.
Fairies are cunning, and they almost always find a way out of it. And when they come to seek revenge, it is better to already be dead.
Kate flipped another page:
The real names of North Corner royals cannot be recorded, as it is the eternal decree of the Four Ever Corners in section III of the Ancient Fairy Law.
But the names of all others, including peasant, noble, servant, slave, and master, must be one of the following, as per section III, so that the High Queene of the Ever Corners may command them as she sees fit.
The ten real names of the fae of the North are as follows:
A book tumbled from two shelves away, and Kate leapt back, her shoulders hitting the wall. It was too late. There was no more time. She had no choice.
Kate’s heart hammered as she stepped out from the shelf into the aisle.
Four muscular fae turned in her direction.
“Obsideous Hamma Greystone,” Kate read aloud.
The auburn-haired fae pulled a leather handle from his coat, and metal burst out at both ends to form a sharp spear.
“Snatch her up,” the Prince commanded in a low voice.
Three fae moved for her, the white-haired one knocking over a stack of books in his way.
Kate’s voice cracked as she rushed, “Foxen Bristen Tripol, Ammilee Sel Jeong, Leviden Christa Shomwan—”
The fae with the auburn hair stopped walking. His spear hung lifeless at his side.
“Elene Sidius Willow, Mariie Emlenton Corra, Lane Esthpen Norquill, Muji Noh Pentipar, Hur Issicar Ashteen—” The guy with the dark, curly hair stopped where he was. Kate’s eyes flashed up. She said the last name, “Nam Baek-Hyeon.”
The white-haired guy froze in place. His face was ashen.
A dead silence filled the library.
The fae Prince stepped forward with a dark glare. “Human,” he growled.
“Protect me from him!” Kate shouted, pointing at the Prince.
The Prince staggered to a halt. He blinked and glanced over to the guy with curly, dark hair.
A long, terrible pause followed, and Kate took a step back, afraid it hadn’t worked. But then…
Slowly, three muscled, sharp-eyed fae turned away from Kate and toward the Prince.
Kate slapped the book shut and held it tight against her chest as what she read on the first page of the book rang in her mind:
The first rule of enslaving a fairy is to learn its real name. Once you speak the real name of a fairy with the intent to enslave, you become its master. Once you become its master, you can command it to do anything.
This trick works both ways. So never tell your name to a fairy, no matter what it offers.
“…don’t be afraid of using a real name.”
Freida hadn’t been talking about Kate’s name at all.
“If he so much as touches me, beat him up,” Kate added, her raspy voice filling the library. She slowly inched past the group toward the library doors.
The fae Prince looked as white as a ghost. His heavy gaze was glued to Kate, and in his hard expression, Kate saw that she just did a very bad thing, very well.
Kate Kole had just enslaved the fae Prince’s three deadly assassins.
