The Borderlands Princess by Ophelia Wells Langley EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Author:Ophelia Wells Langley
- Language: English
- Genre: Arthurian Fantasy
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
Seven more days, and I’ll be married. A day I dread with my entire
being since it will shackle me to the very creatures who almost killed
me as a girl.
The Fae killed Geannie and now they expect me to be their Queen.
My fingers slide up to the chain hanging around my neck and pull the
hagstone she gave me from between my breasts. The black stone shines in
the bright light of day, the smooth stone cold to the touch though it had
been resting against my skin the entire morning. I swallow thickly, the
decades of grief settling like a stone in my stomach.
The coach lurches forward as we cross the Border. The invisible
boundary between our worlds constricts my lungs and my ears pop. Our
party clears the rolling fields, the landscape giving way to rockier terrain,
deeper ruts in the hard packed road, and a lush forest with trees whose
canopies seem to touch the dusk sky. We leave the cobblestone road behind
and the light shifts slightly, brilliant hues of late afternoon brush the interior
of the coach pink and orange. The gilded accents wink in the shifting light,
glowing with extravagance, reminding me, yet again, that I am now a
magic-less human in a powerful, magical world.
I press my forehead against the window. There are ten Fae in
attendance, two driving the stagecoach, four at my flank, and then four at
the front. I am severely outnumbered, so even if I wanted to jump out of
this heavily gilded coach, they would catch me within moments. My fingers
twine nervously in my mahogany-colored hair at the base of my neck,
wanting to undo the intricate plaiting and pins, wear it down and free-
flowing instead. Geannie would have snatched my hand away by now,
ensuring my hair was still in its perfect style, tutting about and making sure
that I look the part when I meet my betrothed.
The two Fae creatures driving the stagecoach are having a heated
discussion and their voices raise in agitation, growing loud enough to filter
through the window of the coach.
“Och! Are you daft? No way would the King believe it,” one driver says
hotly. “Besides, he’d have our hides if he caught us.”
How I can hear them so clearly, I do not know, but I move to the
opposite bench and slide the journal father gave me out of the way. I ride
with my head tilted to the small window behind their seat and catch
fragments of their frenzied conversation.
“We can easily make it look like an accident.” The second driver says.
His emphasis on the word accident has my heart skipping.
“What kind of accident? She’s surrounded by Fae, the King’s Guards,
no less. This will never work,” the first driver says, lowering his voice.
“I’d rather face the wrath of the King than ever deal with a human
Queen.”
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