"I've taken you as my bride, you should be happy."
The blonde shivered and wiped her eyes. A moment ago, she’d been snug in her little bakery, tucking up the leftovers and preparing to close up shop. Then a tall man had stepped through her door and asked for a bite of bread, and out of the goodness of her heart, she’d obliged him.
And wound up here.
“A currant bun is not a ring. I offered you simple hospitality, not my hand in marriage.”
Steven chuckled once more. “I might, but then again I might have duties to perform. I advise you stay in, two night from now. The Wild Hunt will be on the ride.”
“And I am Steven.”
“Steven?” She had to smile. “Rather an ordinary name for a fairy prince to have. But what do I know?” She bobbed a little curtsey. “Farewell then. And thanks for the warning.”
“Who said I was a Prince?” The fae laughed before the doorway between worlds shut and vanished leaving the mortal woman in her world near her village.
Hm. She hadn’t thought of that. Oh well. There were worse things. She made her way home and locked up the bakery, carefully tucking the crystal flower away in her wardrobe, just in case.
Two nights later, a sudden bitingly-cold wind blew through the village. The lamps were lighted early and everyone scrambled for shelter as the sky turned grey and evening brought a blast of stinging sleet.
Remembering the warning, Estella sent her helpers home well before sundown and closed up shop early. She stoked the fire high, made herself some supper, and settled down to wait out the night.
The cold deepened, frost crawling quickly up the windows, and under the door. The skirling wind sounding like the neighs of galloping horses.
The Wild Hunt was there.
Outside, wails could be heared, doors being smashed in by battle axes and swords.
Estella didn’t think she could have fallen asleep for love or money, but somehow she had. The first crash of steel against wood woke her with a start. She bolted out of her chair, groping for the iron poker. More loud and ominous noises echoed from down below.
This was not going to be a fight that she could win with a little iron rod.
Slipping over to the window, she saw hulking figures darting about on the street below. Furs ruffled in the cold wind and the meagre moonlight gleamed on armor and wickedly curved weapons.
Estella didn’t wait. She doused the fire and ran for the bedroom, shutting the door and locking it and shoving the bedstead against it for good measure. She snatched up the crystal flower from its’ place in the wardrobe, and passed her shaking fingers over the shimmering petals.
