Page 110 of Taken By the Fae

There’s a flash of amusement in his eyes, but he nods. “Understood.”

I grab a pair of fleece lined leggings and a cream-colored sweater along with fresh underthings and slip into the bathroom to change. After quickly washing my face, I apply some light makeup before twisting my hair into a fishtail braid over one shoulder. I haven’t colored it recently, so the blond has yellowed some, but at least it’s freshly washed instead of filled with dry shampoo.

Allison stares at me with concern when I come out of the bathroom and pull on socks and boots before grabbing my coat off the back of the door.

“Where exactly are we going?” I ask Nikolai.

“I can’t tell you that. The safety of the ruler is a knight’s top priory, followed closely by that of those in their court.”

I arch a brow at him, shoving my hands into my coat pockets as my fingernails dig into my palms. “Won’t I see how we get there?”

He offers me a wry smile. “Nope. We’re shifting.”

I tense, stealing a glance at Allison, who is watching Nikolai like a hawk. “Do we have to?” My voice sounds small, and I hate it.

“You won’t be doing the actual shifting, I will.” He offers me his hand.

I press my lips together, the muscles in my stomach coiling tight with unease. At least we can’t be goingtoofar, considering the distance limitation of shifting. “Can you at least assure me I’m not walking—or shifting—to my execution?”

Nikolai sighs. “I, like you, believe if Ophelia wanted to punish you with death for killing Jules, it would have already been done.”

That appears to be the closest thing to reassurance I’m going to get. I take a deep breath and step toward him, but Allison blocks my path, her eyes searching mine.

“I’m freaking out, Ro. I feel like I shouldn’t let you leave.” The panic in her voice makes it crack, and my chest tightens.

I grab her shoulders, squeezing them. “None of this is on you, Al. Stay here, or better yet, go hang with Oliver. I’ll let you know when I’m… back.”

She looks as if she desperately wants to argue, but finally, she nods.

I release her, and she steps aside to let me pass. I meet Nikolai’s vivid green eyes and close the distance between us, sliding my hand into his. When the room slips away, I squeeze my eyes shut and pray to every deity in existence I’ll survive this.

* * *

It’s not until there’s solid ground under my boots that I finally exhale. My heart tries to break free from my rib cage and my throat is clogged with fear. I pull everything I’m feeling close to my chest, blocking it from view just how Allison showed me.

“Aurora.”

Nikolai’s gentle voice coaxes my eyes open, and I blink a few times as what appears to be a farmhouse with modern characteristics comes into focus before me.

“This is where the queen lives?” I ask, my breath fogging the cold air, and take in the three-level house—its pristine, white exterior with black-framed windows and a wide front porch with stained wood pillars. The front door is twice the size of what would be normal and made of frosted glass.

“From what I’ve gathered, Ophelia lives many places, moving wherever necessary.” He glances toward the house. “We should get inside—she doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

We climb the steps onto the porch, and Nikolai knocks on the door. Seconds later, a man with soft hazel eyes and a face of wrinkles opens it. He has to be at least seventy and smiles warmly at us.

“Please, come in, come in. It’s a chilly one today.”

Inside the house, the man takes our coats and hurries away down the long hallway before us. At the end is a staircase that winds up to the second level, and a chandelier hangs from the ceiling there.

“Is he—”

“Human. Yes.” Nikolai walks forward, keeping his boots on, so I follow suit. We step through a wide, rounded archway into a formal living room with leather furniture and a roaring fireplace that fills the space with warmth. Bookshelves line the wall on either side and stretch from floor to ceiling, while the adjacent wall has a few windows draped by heavy, deep red curtains.

I glance at Nikolai, unsure of what to do. Sit? Stand? Am I supposed to bow to—

“Well done, Nikolai,” a smooth, feminine voice purrs, and I turn as what must be the unseelie queen glides into the room barefoot, wearing a flowy lavender dress that trails along the floor behind her. I stand straighter on instinct, pressing my lips together as I take in the inhuman features she’s not glamouring. Her light blue eyes glow so bright they appear almost silver, and her long auburn curls are tucked behind pointed ears. She’s the most stunning person I’ve ever seen—and she carries herself as if she knows it. There’s an air of sophistication about her, and despite her appearing to be in her late twenties, knowing she’s over a century old makes me shudder.

Her gaze lands on me, the weight of it dizzying. “You must be Aurora. What a lovely name.”

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