“LADY ABRIELLA,” EMMALINE SAYS SOFTLY. “I’m sorry milady, but you need to wake up.”
I try to open my eyes, but it’s too hard. I roll over and put my pillow over my head. “No. I need to sleep.”
Emmaline squeaks, and I’m vaguely aware of her and Tess having a low conversation as sleep claims me again. “Just found her here.” “Bleeding too much.” “Find the prince.”
“Brie?” Sebastian’s voice. The smell of leather, salt, and sea. Sunshine on green grass. “Brie, wake up.”
I don’t want to open my eyes. I’m in a soft bed, wrapped in blankets. I
can smell him all around me, and I don’t remember why, but I know I don’t want to leave this safe place.
“The healer needs to look at you,” Sebastian says softly.
With those words, everything slams into me with the clarity of someone pulling the curtain to reveal a sunny day. I don’t want to face the reality of what I’ve done. I can’t handle the thought of Sebastian hating me.
“Abriella, open your eyes.” Why does his voice sound so gentle? Doesn’t he know? His hand is warm and rough against my cheek, and I lean into it
as he runs his thumb along my jaw. “You scared the shit out of me. You know that, right? Please just open your eyes so I know you’re okay.”
But I don’t want to open my eyes. I don’t want to end this dream where he still cares for me.
His soft breath flutters against my lips, and then his mouth is on mine, gentle and coaxing. My heart squeezes. Sebastian.
“I’m so sorry,” I whisper against his lips, finally opening my eyes.
“Sorry?” His face is lined with worry, but he’s still bowing close to me, his eyes scanning my face again and again.
“For stealing the book. For deceiving you. I couldn’t tell you about my deal with Mordeus. I had to save Jas.” I close my eyes before adding, “I’m sorry I trusted Finn when you warned me I shouldn’t. I’m sorry. I’m so
sorry.”
The mattress shifts as he sits on the bed next to me. He pulls me into his arms, his touch and warmth such a relief that tears stream down my face. “Let the healer look at you, and then you can tell me everything.”
So I do.
 |
We spend most of the night talking. I tell him about my deal with Mordeus, about the mirror and the book. I tell him about training with Finn and about the night I was drugged and Pretha dragged me away from the castle. I tell him about the crown and finding the trick in the bargain. I tell him about Finn’s catacombs and what a fool I’d been to believe that Finn wanted to help me.
Sebastian listens to every word without judgment, without any of the anger I deserve. And when I’m drained—when the story is told and my
words are all gone, when my body feels weak with relief and exhaustion, I let him hold me and I fall asleep.
|
I don’t wake again until light is streaming into the bedroom. Sebastian’s still in bed with me, still holding me, watching me.
“Did you sleep at all?” I ask.
He nods. “A little. How do you feel this morning?”
I sit up in bed, rubbing my eyes. “Better.” Tilting my head, I study him. “Still a little surprised that you can tolerate the sight of me.”
“You were in an impossible situation, and you did what you had to do.” He strokes my cheek with the back of his hand. “My love isn’t so fickle that it fades under stress.”
I snuggle closer to him. “What would have happened to the crown if I’d died without knowing I wore it? Who would have gotten it if I’d never bonded to a faerie?”
“We don’t really know,” he says. “This isn’t a situation my realm has
ever encountered, but any Unseelie who tricked you out of that crown could take the Throne of Shadows.”
“And what if I bonded with a member of the Court of the Sun and passed it to him upon my death?”
Sebastian draws in a sharp breath and his eyes flash with hope. My Bash somehow still wants a life with me after all I’ve done. “Only one with
Unseelie blood can rule from the Throne of Shadows, but all any shadow faerie would need is that crown and the throne would be theirs. I hope you understand now why I didn’t want you to come here.”
He warned me. Sebastian warned me about this world, about Finn, and I didn’t listen.
“I spent so many years being angry with my mother,” I say, tired all over again, “and I’m beginning to believe she sacrificed everything for me.” Even after sleep, my voice is raw and my throat hurts. “That’s why she left us, isn’t it? Somehow she left to protect me?”
Sebastian tucks my hair behind my ear. “After Oberon saved you and passed his crown to you, she realized very quickly that there would always be fae chasing you—looking for the crown and trying to trick you out of it.”
“Is there any way I could . . . get rid of it? If I don’t want it, could I somehow . . .”
“It is tied to your very life, and it remains a part of you until the moment of your death.” He swallows, and I remember Mordeus saying the same thing. The crown gave me life, and it is tied to my life. “Your mother did the only thing she could and sold herself to protect you. For the price of her life, she was able to hide you from them for seven years. That’s why she left you with your uncle Devlin. She believed that by the time seven years had passed, you’d be clever enough to outwit anyone who would try to steal it from you.”
“And I’ve been angry for nine years.”
“You didn’t know.” He slides his fingers through my hair, examining the ragged ends. “I can’t believe you gave that goblin all your hair.”
Self-conscious, I run my fingers through my short, wild locks. I’ve never been particularly vain, but my hair was one trait I always believed was beautiful. “I’m sure I can’t compete with those other girls now.”
He grabs my hand, stopping me, and squeezes my fingertips. “I sent the girls home.”
“What? But I thought . . .”
“For weeks I’ve been trying to convince myself I could do it. I talked with them, danced with them and . . .” He releases a breath and seems reluctant to say the rest.
“What?”
“They’re not you. They never will be you. And I’m done pretending I can live with that.”
Warmth fills me, and I lean against his chest. “Bash . . .”
“And if you’re not ready for a wedding, my mother will have to deal with it.”
My breath catches at mention of the queen. “How is she?”
“Mother? Stronger than anyone realizes. No one in the shadow court knows the book is linked to her life, so they haven’t used it against her.”
“What will happen if they figure it out?”
He slides his hands around my waist and buries his nose in my hair, taking in a deep breath. “She has the best healers in the realm. They will find a way to fortify her powers, and if they don’t . . .” He’s quiet for so long that I pull away from the heat of his chest so I can see his face. What I see there isn’t grief but thoughtfulness.
“If they don’t?” I prod.
“Mother made choices knowing their consequences.” “But what about you? She’s still your mother.”
He releases a long breath. “I’ve had years to prepare for this. All I can do is make arrangements to take care of her kingdom as best I can.”
“You seem wiser than your years, Prince Ronan Sebastian. I imagine you’ll make an incredible king when the time comes.”
He gives me a sad smile, and I can almost see the question in his eyes— he will be king, but will I be his queen? I don’t know what’s next for me, and I’ve run out of time to deliberate. But when he opens his mouth, a different question comes out. “Do you want to go see your sister?”
I draw in a sharp breath. “Yes. Can we? Is it possible?”
“I’ll have my people prepare a portal and we’ll go to Nik’s first thing in the morning.”
I frown. “I asked Mordeus to send her to Mage Trifen’s.”
“I had to find somewhere else for her to stay,” Sebastian explains. “Mage Trifen doesn’t do charity.”
No kidding. “I’m sure Nik will make room for her until Jas can afford a place on her own.”
He’s silent for a long beat. “You say that like you’re not planning to stay with her.”
I open my mouth to object, but there’s no objection to make. I take his face in my hands. “I’m so sorry about all the terrible things I’ve said about you and your people.” I swallow. “I love you, Sebastian. I can’t live in Fairscape. It’s no longer my home.”
His expression is guarded as he studies my face. “And where is home?” “I’m not sure I have one anymore.”
He dips his head and brushes his lips softly against mine. “I’ll make one for you . . . if you’ll let me.”
I curl into him, relishing his heat, his protective strength, and I think I just might.
