"I see," I said. With a grimace, I scooted out from under the table and stood, keeping my back to the wall. Hiding wouldn't do me any good, as comfortable as it felt. "Okay. So. I'm in Faery, the fae are real, they kidnapped my dying self without asking, and now I'm a princess." The words came out in a flat tone, approaching total disbelief.

Susan slowly lowered her hands, then, when I didn't freak out about it, laced them together in front of her. "They're not capable of kidnapping people to Faery," she said. "Are you sure you didn't give them permission? Ask them for help, maybe?"

I opened my mouth to say no, then groaned and slid back down along the wall to sit on the floor. I gave Susan a look of deep unhappiness, and she unsuccessfully tried to keep from smiling, her lips twitching.

"The words 'please help' might have passed my lips," I admitted.

She made a wry expression. "That's enough to do it," she said apologetically. "It really is fairytale rules around here. They can't tell a direct lie, don't ever thank them, and don't ever say you're sorry. Debts will get you in trouble." Susan bit her lip, looking to the side, then back at me. "Especially you."

"Please don't be cryptic," I said, lifting my face to look up at her. "This is bullshitty enough that I don't want to have to deal with trying to read between the lines."

"Saying please is also a bad idea," Susan said. Then she licked her lips; I saw her knuckles go pale as she tightened her clasped hands. "The men who brought you back," she said, and let out a shaky breath. "They were the soldiers Alluin Xilsatra and Zhiolas Ulahana, and Crown Prince Dain Sundamar."

5. Thanks, I Hate It

Chapter 5

Thanks, I Hate It

Crown Prince Dain Sundamar.

Well, wasn't that just the best fucking news I'd received this morning. I grimaced as I assessed this latest piece of horrible knowledge. If Susan was telling the truth, I owed my life to Prince Wolf Eyes, a debt I'd accepted the moment I'd asked unseen voices for help. Now I was in Faery, getting called "your highness."

God. Fucking. Damnit.

"It's always fucking princes and kings and shit," I muttered under my breath.

"What was that, your highness?" Susan asked, sounding exactly like I'd expect a helpful human servant to sound.

I clonked my head back against the wall and stared up at the ceiling. It was painted like the Sistine Chapel, except instead of God and angels, it was all sorts of strange pagan-looking imagery, animal-headed people interacting with beasts and what had to be fae. Really pretty and fascinating, actually, but it certainly hammered home that I was in a bedroom that belonged to someone powerful and wealthy.