“Well, you’re certainly not wandering the streets until morning,” I snap. “You’ve been out here for less than an hour, and you already found trouble.”
“I’m dealing with it.”
The man lets out a pathetic whimper. In her agitation, Sabine must have pressed the knife closer to his throat.
“Alex told me what he did,” Frederick says soothingly. “I had no part in it. Come with me, and I’ll help you sort it out.”
I want to roll my eyes, but Sabine looks like she’s considering Frederick’s offer.
“Fine,” she says after several seconds of indecision. Staring daggers at the thief, she lowers the blade and steps back. “You are fortunate you found me tonight—I wouldn’t usually be so benevolent. If we meet again, you’ll regret it.”
The words aren’t an empty threat, and a chill runs down my spine. Edging away from Sabine like she’s a madwoman, the thief nods.
“If you even think of snatching my trunk as you leave, I’ll throw this knife in your back.”
She says the words like she’s bored, making me wonder if death means little to her. The blood of hundreds is on the queen of Faerie’s hands. How many men has her daughter slain?
Resentment flashes in the man’s eyes, but he shields it quickly. As soon as Sabine steps away, he rushes backward, keeping his eyes on the princess and her knife until he’s finally far enough to bolt down a side street and disappear.
Once he’s out of sight, Sabine turns toward me, knife still in hand. I wait for her to say something, but she simply stares at me.
Braver than I am, Frederick slowly sidles up to the princess. “Shall I take that?”
She looks at him, assessing, and then offers him the knife. Frederick takes it hastily, frowning at the dark stain that slicks the blade.
As soon as the princess is unarmed, I rush forward, pulling a handkerchief from my jacket. I take her hand, wrapping the fabric around her palm, hoping to staunch the blood flow.
Sabine watches me in a detached sort of way. “You’re more courageous now that I’m unarmed. Were you afraid I was going to take a stab at you?”
My gaze moves from her hand to her face. “The thought crossed my mind.”
A dark smile ghosts across her lips. “It crossed mine as well.”
She holds the cloth to keep it in place, and I step back, shoving my hands into my trouser pockets. We assess each other in the shadowed street, adversaries facing off.
In a moment of desperation and anger, I made an enemy of the heir of West Faerie. I’ve as good as signed my death sentence.
“You must be exhausted after such a night.” Frederick gently guides her down the street. “I’ll take you back to my house and fix you a nice cup of tea while my housekeeper fixes up a room. How does that sound?”
I trail after them, saying nothing until we reach the hotel where Frederick’s coachman waits. Sullenly, I watch Frederick help Sabine into his carriage.
“I’ll join you in a moment,” he promises her, and then he shuts the door and turns back to me.
“You don’t have to reprimand me,” I say. “I can read your thoughts as plain as day.”
“You’ve made a fine mess.” Frederick shakes his head. “I’ll see if I can talk her into meeting with you in the morning.”
Nodding, I watch him climb inside. The coachman clucks at the horses, and the carriage rolls down the street.
I stand here long after they’re gone, remembering the words that pushed me over the cliff.
Human theater.
On some level, Sabine believes I’m below her, and not just because she’s a princess. Because she’s Fae, and I’m human.
I hold the keys to her freedom, but she holds a knife to my heart. I know how the Fae feel about us—I experienced their apathy firsthand. But hearing Sabine say it aloud cut more deeply than I expected.