throat, I let out a cloudy sigh and then sweep my gaze over this forbidden world one last time. The beauty of it is haunting. The way nothing is dead, as if a winter storm blew in one fine summer day and froze everything just so. Even the moon seems covered in a layer of hoarfrost, the air honeyed with whatever fruit hangs from the trees.
Fruit. My tongue prickles with moisture. I haven’t tasted any real produce beyond a few expired cans of mandarin oranges in months, and the artificial cherry flavor on my tongue suddenly pales in comparison to the real thing.
The golden spheres taunt me from where they hang, swollen and ripe, begging to be picked and eaten.
I can almost feel my teeth breaking their skin. Almost taste what I imagine is a semi-soft inside, like a firm pear. The promise of fresh fruit sends a surge of energy into my body. The promise of not going home empty-handed?
Even more alluring.
Everyone knows not to steal from the Fae. But this is wild fruit, growing from trees that were once our trees, in a land that was once our land. Which, technically, makes it our fruit.
The logic seems pretty legit to me.
My hands are no good for climbing, but I find a tree on the very edge of the forest with branches bent low enough to pick its fruit. Using my shirt like a basket, I fill the bottom of my tank top with nine of the golden fruits.
Up close, their skin is a greenish-gold, the curved stems dark eggplant-purple.
I lug them to the Shimmer, say a prayer the magical fence goes both ways, then prepare to leap back to my world. From this side, the wall is completely transparent, and I take in the rolling prairie and sparse forest.
Even covered in a layer of ice, the world on this side feels so much more alive.
Resituating my bow on my shoulder, I hold the shirt with the fruit in one hand, splay my other hand on the Shimmer, and go to push—
Something clamps down on my left arm and spins me around. I cry out on instinct as fear floods me. The fruit goes tumbling into the frozen grass. I try to plant my feet to keep from flying, but whatever has me in its grip is too strong and I’m knocked sideways to my hands and knees.
Chatty Cat snarls before letting out a low, terrifying growl. He’s crouched beside me, glaring up at my assaulter.
“Thief,” a male voice hisses. A man stands over me, blocking my path to the Shimmer. . .
No, not a man. A Fae. He’s surprisingly tall, or maybe that’s because I’m on my knees, thanks to this dickwad.
Gritting my teeth, I lift my gaze to assess him, my eyes trailing up the finely-tailored black leather boots that rise to his knees, the thick sword belt and ornate long sword. The silver guard is fashioned into a dragon that wraps around the hilt. One gloved hand rests casually around the handle. White fur from some creature I can’t place lines a silver cloak embroidered with indigo and dotted with crystals.
The ostentatious ensemble is finished off with two silver owl cloak pins on either side of his collar.
Next to him, my thrift store jeans and three-day-old tank top feel rather lacking.
Curious to what an actual Fae looks like, I move my focus to his face, only to be disappointed. The hood of his cloak casts a deep shadow over his features. But I can feel predatory eyes staring down at me, searching for . . . something. The sharp apex of his ears rise on either side of his hood, the exotic tips sticking up like swords.
Hells bells. I’m standing next to an actual Fae.
That genius realization is followed by two more epiphanies. I made a terrible, stupid mistake, and now I’m in danger.
All these years avoiding the Shimmer and playing it safe, and one promise of fruit is all it took to ruin everything. I’m not prepared to meet a Fae. I’m not wearing any of the safeguards that protect humans from them.
My rowan-berry charm is somewhere inside my nightstand, and the little packets of salt I usually carry in my pockets are somewhere on the kitchen table. My clothes aren’t even inside out.
“Rise,” he orders, “and face the consequences of your crime.”
Who talks like that? I would laugh, but the hatred in his voice makes me shiver instead.
It’s not over yet, Summer. Now move!
“Happily,”