SABINE
“Do you live in the capital, miss?” the man across from me asks as the public coach bounces down the road that will eventually lead to Davon. “Or are you visiting the city?”
I pull my gaze from the window to look at him, not wishing to be drawn into a conversation. “Just visiting.”
The man appears to be at least ten years my senior and is far too talkative.
“Do you have family in Davon?” he asks.
Perhaps he’s perfectly respectable, but the question doesn’t settle well.
When I don’t answer, he merely smiles. “My name is Harris—Harris Cumberland. My family owns the slaughterhouse on the north end of the city.”
I give him a thin smile before I look out the window again, hoping he’ll realize I have no desire to chat.
“Are you familiar with it?” he prods.
I sigh, accepting the fact he’s the tenacious sort. “I’m not.”
“I’d be happy to show you around the city,” the man continues, undaunted by my cool response. He studies me too closely, his eyes sharp and eager. “Davon is rich in history and modern culture.”
Self-conscious, I tug my hair over my shoulder. I’ve charmed my ears so they’ll appear human—the subtle points are our one dead giveaway—but illusions can fail, and I haven’t performed this one before. I’ve never had a reason to try.
“I don’t require an escort,” I tell him.
“Where are you from?” he asks.
If I were human, I could lie. But the thought makes my hands tremble. I look down at the scar on my palm, knowing it’s not worth the pain.
“I’d rather not talk about it,” I say.
“I’m sorry, miss.” His tone changes, but he doesn’t sound genuinely remorseful. “I didn’t mean to bring up a tender subject.”
“You didn’t.”
“May I be honest with you?”
I turn my eyes on him, wondering if it would be unethical to use a bit of magic to make him drowsy. The ride would undoubtedly be more peaceful. There are no laws forbidding us from using our magic on humans, though it’s morally questionable, especially since I’m in their territory. But do I care?
As I’m contemplating it, Harris leans forward and drops his voice. “Davon is a lovely city, but it’s not safe for a young woman such as yourself to visit without a chaperone.”
Losing patience, I say, “Such as myself?”
He all but leers at me. “Forgive me, but you are beautiful. Certain men would be eager to take advantage of your naivety.”
“Men such as yourself?”
He blinks and sits back, startled by my bluntness. “Of course not, miss. Why, I would never—”
I lean across the carriage, setting my hand atop his. “You’re tired, aren’t you?”
“What?” he looks down, befuddled by the sudden contact.
“Look at me,” I command. When he obeys, I smile. “Sleep.”
Magic travels between our connection, warm and soothing.
Harris’s mouth falls open as he stares at me, entranced. As his eyes start to close, recognition suddenly lights in their sleepy depths. “You’re…a Faerie.”