Page 118 of The Beast King's Bride

“No, I mean myself. I used to work here… years ago.”

She gives me a dubious glance. “You, my lady? In a kitchen?”

“Look, do you need a kitchen hand or not?” My desperation has to be showing. I have the gold in my purse but don’t know what I could do with it. What could it buy me? How could I live off it? The kitchens is all I’ve ever known, apart from that brief span of childhood bathed in gold and silk, back when I thought I was someone important.

That I could be someone important, that I could one day be important to someone.

But the cook shakes her head, still looking perplexed. “We have all the staff we need, my lady.”

I sigh, turn away. My last link to this world is Pete. I’ll find him and together we’ll decide what to do.

The cobbler’s house stands on the main street of Kyrene, close to the bridge. The front has a round window inside which rows of shoes have been placed, displayed for the passers-by to look at.

Here you can have shoes made or repaired, they seem to say. No need for a sign.

After asking around—there is another cobbler on the other side of town but the earthenware merchant I asked told me that cobbler was very much alive and had never lost a daughter—I’m finally standing in front of Pete’s door.

I lift the brass ring and knock.

Then knock some more.

Eventually, a loud voice slurs from inside, “No more shoes. We have no shoes. Go away!”

I know that voice. My heart starts to pound. “Pete! It’s me, Ash. Let me in.”

Laughter, followed by, “I said, go away.”

“It’s me, Ash.”

“No, you’re not! Ash is dead. Has been dead for years. Leave me in peace!”

“Pete, please. We grew up together. You always helped me pull up the water in the well. You… you always teased me for not accepting the fact I was a servant, for insisting I was a princess. I went to that ball when Prince Elyar of Sothia was visiting. I borrowed princess Milhemina’s gown. You were there, at the ball, too. I found you in an alcove in the ballroom the night I was taken. Princess Blanche betrayed me, told the Fae king about me.”

Another stony silence. Then, “Anyone could have told you all this. It means nothing.”

“Please, Pete. Open the door. Look at me. You’ll know it’s me. I came back.”

Slow steps. Then a bar lifts and he drags the door open. He stares at me.

I stare right back.

It’s Pete. Of course it’s him. It’s been seven years, I tell myself. Remember that.

The man standing in front of me is not the grinning boy I knew. He’s taller, heavier of build, his dirty blond hair long, a messy beard hiding half his face.

His eyes, though, those hazel eyes are the same, even if they hold anger and sadness instead of mirth. “You,” he starts and stops.

His cheeks go pale.

“Pete.” I lift my hands, wanting to hug him, but he looks like a wild animal, skittish and unsteady. “May I come inside?”

“This can’t be,” he breathes, eyes a little too big, fixed on my face. “It can’t be. If Ash were alive, she’d be older, you look… you look just like the day she was taken. You’re not real.”

“Pete, I’m telling you, it’s me.”

“No.” He’s shaking his head. “It’s an… an illusion. A trick. A glamour. Maybe you’re one of the fucking Fae, trying to trick me into letting you inside, you—”

“Use iron, then.” I pull my sleeve back, bare my arm. “Use an iron knife, cut me. See if I get poisoned and die.”

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