The Disgraced Fae (Royal Fae of Rose Briar Woods Book 3) by Shari L. Tapscott

Author:Shari L. Tapscott [Tapscott, Shari L.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-07-13T23:00:00+00:00

“I’m fine,” Eleanor insists from atop the bed, her face still too pale. Morgil lies in her lap like a small guardian. She strokes his back, drawing comfort from him. “Brahm said he didn’t see any trace of the magic on me.”

Alice and Brahm wait for the physician outside Eleanor’s bedchamber. They left the door open, and I watch their solemn conversation. Brahm sets his hand on Alice’s arm as if offering reassurance. I don’t know the subject of their conversation, but I can guess.

“I’m feeling better now,” Eleanor promises, drawing my attention back to her.

She’s still in the masquerade gown, looking particularly human and vulnerable. If it weren’t for the protective magic of the permit, she’d likely be dead.

I fist my hand and then release it. “I was wrong. We need to leave Faerie. It’s not safe here.”

But even as I say the words, I realize we would be no safer in the human territories—not if my mother is awake and seeking vengeance. She could follow us, masking her appearance. She could pose as a human doctor offering tainted medicine or a peddler selling poisoned fruit. The illusion would fall as soon as I realized who she was, but the damage would be done by then.

We’ll never be able to trust anyone, human or Fae. The thought is sobering.

Eleanor touches my arm, making me jump. “Are you all right?”

“I’m worried about you.”

“I’m fine.”

The physician arrives, drawing our attention to the door. Arisaul is tall and rail-thin, with a long white beard. He wears a burgundy cloak that brushes the floor as he walks, and though he’s quite old, he carries himself with grace.

Brahm follows him inside, explaining the situation so I don’t have to.

On edge, I study Arisaul, looking for chinks in what might be a well-crafted illusion. Unlike changelings, who can physically alter their appearance, we high Fae can only mask our true form. The charm will hold up until the people around us begin to suspect the truth.

But the physician must not be a clever decoy. The illusion would fail under careful, practiced scrutiny.

Arisaul studies one of the truffles, turning it in his fingers, and then he looks at Eleanor. His expression becomes thoughtful, as if she seems familiar but he can’t place why. He must keep to his own company these days, or he’d never be able to avoid the court gossip.

“What’s your name, miss?” he asks Eleanor, looking for a chair.

Brahm immediately fetches one from nearby and places it next to the bed. Arisaul sinks into it with a grateful sigh.

“Eleanor,” she says.

“She’s Alice’s sister,” Brahm adds.

“Of course.” The physician looks back at Alice. “I can see the family resemblance.”

We wait for him to make the connection, but he merely begins his examination.

I wait for his diagnosis, trying not to pace the room.

“I don’t see any trace of the hex, and her vitals align with human norms,” Arisaul finally declares.

“That’s a relief,” Brahm says. “Is there anything we can do to aid with Eleanor’s recovery?”

The physician looks back at his patient.

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