Prince of Wolves - Tasha Black Page 0,4

dinner now. We need to wait a little while anyway.”

He slipped into the backyard of the little shop.

A stand of lumpy sycamores and leggy rhododendrons lined the back of the grassy area. It was a perfect hiding spot.

He patted his satchel where he kept a supply of jerky, and Ronan danced beside him, ready for his meal.

3

Ashe

Ashe observed the inside of the apartment in darkness for long minutes before daring to turn on the lights.

But it seemed that the changeling, whom everyone called Willow, lived alone, and it was safe for Ashe to make herself at home here.

She flicked the electric switch by the door and was rewarded with a wash of warm light. When her eyes adjusted, she saw the place was crowded but clean.

The walls were lined with unmatched bookshelves, stacked and stuffed with volumes. Some were leather bound and lovely, others were dog-eared paperbacks.

Several area rugs marked out the “rooms” of the open space. A traditional navy and red rug was in the living area and a soft white tufted thing was under the queen-sized bed by the two windows.

A tiny kitchenette stood in the near corner, and behind it a door led, she assumed, to the bathroom.

Bowls of fruit and potted plants covered every surface of the kitchen. More plants hung from the ceiling near the windows.

The whole layout was as cozy as it was efficient.

Her eyes caught on the closet and dresser on the far wall of the bedroom area. She moved toward them in relief. Her gown was torn and uncomfortable, and she certainly couldn’t fit in with it in this realm.

She opened the closet to find a collection of white blouses and red skirts similar to what Willow and the servants in the diner had been wearing. Those must be for work.

She pulled open a dresser drawer and found a pair of silken trousers and a thin sleeveless chemise with the words Sleeping Beauty across its chest.

These must be what passed for sleeping garb in this world.

She grabbed them and headed to the bathroom.

It had a toilet, sink and a tall glass box with faucets.

She was used to a luxurious soaking bath, but figured that she could clean herself off well enough in that box.

She stripped down, trying not to look in the mirror.

It would be an odd sensation to see her own face for a while.

I have no reason ever to see her again, she told herself. Willow will enjoy life in faerie. She will be a princess, and never want for anything again. And I will simply slip into her life here.

She played with the faucets until it was raining down warmly in the glass box.

Willow had a wealth of scented bathing products.

Ashe tried them all and finally emerged feeling decadent in her silky sleeping costume.

She glanced at the kitchen, knowing she should probably eat something.

But she was exhausted, and the bed called to her.

The near bedroom wall was festooned with snapshots and Ashe looked at them on her way past without thinking.

She was in most of them.

Or at least she appeared to be in them. She knew it wasn’t really her, but the resemblance was uncanny.

The Fae created changelings for all sorts of reasons. And when they swapped a fae babe for a mortal one, the fae child physically transformed into an exact duplicate of the mortal babe, so that the human parents would not suspect a thing.

If Willow were here right now, her own parents would not be able to tell which of them was which by sight.

Another pang reminded Ashe that they were really her own parents.

She searched the wall for answers about the life that had been stolen from her.

There were pictures of Willow with a group of other young women doing various fun things outdoors. There were photos of her in a black gown with a strange black hat with a golden tassel hanging down. There was a photo of her in her work uniform outside the diner.

And in the center was a photo of Willow outdoors with a happy smile on her face. A boy who looked an awful lot like her was next to her on a park bench. And behind them were two smiling adults.

“Mother and Father,” Ashe whispered reverently.

Her own parents had never smiled that hard. And they certainly weren’t up for outdoor romps with Ashe and her brothers.

Even in their portraits, they were always frowning. And her mother and father were in separate portraits, hung on opposite sides of the palace’s