Safe from what? If the Unseelie were truly monsters, they wouldn’t have let a dilapidated bridge keep them from punishing the prince for trespassing on their territory.

Unless that isn’t illegal. Are we allowed to enter the Unseelie city on Wednesdays as well? It seems only fair if they can venture into ours that we should be allowed to do the same.

I smooth my fingers down my overskirt, straightening the wrinkles as best I can. “How do you know they’re dangerous?”

Nia closes the book with a snap. “Did you not hear Ronan? There are bones scattered across their side of The Divide.”

When I was little and my mother would blow out the candle by my bed, I thought I saw monsters in the dark too. Turns out, they were only the piles of laundry I hadn’t put away. “They eat meat, correct?” Unlike Seelie fae, the Unseelie diet consists mostly of animals. “Perhaps that is just where they discarded them.”

If I wanted to keep people away, that would certainly do the trick.

Rolling her eyes, she shoves her chaotic hair back from her face. “I suppose the horns and fangs aren’t anything to fret over either.”

“It was dark out, Nia. Everyone knows shadows play tricks with your mind—especially when you’re already afraid. Haven’t you ever wondered if the legends are true? We could go and find out.”

She tosses the book onto the coffee table, rattling our forgotten teacups. “Don’t you understand? If my father discovers that I went to see the Unseelie, he’ll have my head—and yours.”

“We are almost twenty-five-years old. We do not need his permission.”

“What do you propose we do?” She waves a hand toward the door. “Stroll into the square and throw a welcome party? Bring one of the neighbor’s new calves as a sacrifice?”

“Now who’s being ridiculous?” Although a welcome gift never hurt anyone. Perhaps that is something to consider. “Is it illegal to go to town on Wednesdays?”

Her hand falls to her lap with a quiet slap. “Well, no, but⁠—”

“If the king was truly concerned for his citizens’ safety, there would be laws in place keeping us from leaving our homes. Since there aren’t, I can only assume that it isn’t as dangerous as everyone believes.”

It takes ten more minutes to convince her and another five for her to pick a pair of shoes to wear. Don’t ask me why her choice of footwear matters when she’s made me promise that we will stay hidden.

While I’m waiting, I straighten my wrinkled skirts and tighten the strings on my dress’s corset top. I’m in love with the pale-yellow daisies printed on the silk, and the way the lacy sleeves of my shift puff over my shoulders like mushroom caps. It really is far too lovely a dress to waste on a day inside.