Page 27 of Taken By the Fae

“You think he’s going to hurt me?” A faint voice in my head saysno. It holds no merit, and yet, I want to believe it.

“He’s not who I’m worried about. Tristan has enemies in the unseelie court.”

“That I believe,” I grumble.

“You stumbled into this world at potentially the worst possible moment.”

I arch a brow. “As if there would’ve been a good time?”

“That’s not… I just mean…” She shakes her head. “The fae courts have been divided for a long time. It’s all boring history and politics.”

“I want to know,” I say without a thought.

“It all started with our ancestors many years ago. I’m talking about the beginning of humankind. Since there were humans, there have been fae. Some were born and some were made—either intentionally or by accident—when the fae were forced to inhabit the human world after ours was destroyed during the last war. That was way before my time. But it’s why some fae—from both courts—don’t look at humans in the most flattering way. They’re jealous. The humans get to live in their own world, while fae—we’re stuck here.”

I blink a few times, unable to form a coherent response. This is… a lot.

“Do you want me to stop?” she checks. “I can feel your anxiety.”

I cringe, leaning away. “What does it feel like?”

“Dark and sticky like molasses.”

“Oh.” I don’t know what else to say. “What else should I know?” As overwhelming as the information is, it’ll give me a better understanding of this world I’m trying to wrap my head around.

“The war I mentioned before? It’s still going and likely won’t stop for as long as we’re forced to inhabit the human world.”

My lips part. “That’s what the war is about? Sharing the human world?”

She nods but doesn’t elaborate for a moment, pulling at a loose thread on her shirt. “I’m not actively involved with the politics. All I know is what I’ve told you.”

I let out a breath. “This war, the rules and responsibility, that’s a lot to put on one person, fae knight or otherwise.”

Allison raises a brow at me, looking at me as if she’s attempting to decipher the meaning in my words.

The tops of my ears burn once again, and I fight the urge to take another drink. “I just mean, I couldn’t imagine being in that position, that’s all.”

“The position youarein isn’t exactly ideal, either.” She presses her lips together for a few seconds. “You’re sure there’s no way around it?”

My chest tightens. “Without this internship, I’ll fall behind and won’t get my degree in the spring.” My voice increases in pitch. Graduating late isn’t an option. It’ll shred my plan for the future into pieces, and I refuse to entertain that idea.

She reaches over and grabs my hands, holding them firmly in hers. “You can do this.” Her expression is serious, her tone certain.

I can’t help but smile despite the warring nerves in my stomach. She’s right. Icando this—not having a choice in the matter is beside the point. At least, that’s what I’m telling myself.

“And who knows,” she adds with what looks to be a forced smile, “maybe you’ll have…” She trails off, pressing her lips together. “Have…” She sighs, evidently giving up trying to lie. “Okay, if nothing else, maybe you’ll learn a thing or two.”

* * *

Friday afternoon, I make a last-minute decision to hop on a train and visit my hometown. I need a break from the city before my internship starts and figure a trip home will be good for me. And if I have an opportunity to do some digging into my supposed fae lineage, I’m going to take it.

Taking an Uber from the train station, I beat my parents and little brother home. A glance at the time tells me they’re still teaching at the college across town and Elijah’s still in school. I walk up the empty driveway, chuckling at the state of the overgrown front lawn. The rest of the house looks in order. The dull red brick and giant bay window in the front still make me smile, a lightness in my chest that only blooms when I’m home. I unlock the door and let myself in, setting my bag on the bench inside the foyer before slipping my shoes off and padding across the hardwood floor into the kitchen to grab a drink.

Our kitchen has gone through a few renovations over the years—one of my parents’ chosen pastimes, as they like to call it—but the one we have now is my favorite, with faux marble countertops and dark wood cabinets, a stark contrast against the stainless-steel appliances. The breakfast bar, where I always liked to sit while I was doing homework in high school, was added at Dad’s request. He wanted somewhere to eat that wasn’t as formal as the table in the attached dining room.

I plop down at the breakfast bar and sip on the raspberry lemonade I found in the fridge as I check my student email, waiting for everyone to get home.

It’s a little after six when the front door opens.

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