Rennick stood and stepped out of the water without a word.
Finn. Amelia thought Nick was Finn all those years, and it was Nick she’d cried out for today, even though he’d asked her not to call him that and explained why.
All those times he stroked himself to her building pleasure, she’d pictured another man. She had no way of knowing what he looked like, but to picture his best friend, or worse, Gilpin, was a punch to his heart and pride.
Water sloshed around with Amelia’s movements as she tried to scramble out of the bath. “I’m sorry. It wasn’t him; I swear.”
“Stop,” he rasped from the doorway.
The blame wasn’t hers—how could it be? But the last thing he wanted to hear after confessing his love was a name she associated with another
man’s image.
Her gaze burned into his back, but he couldn’t face her. Not now. This felt worse than when she’d fucked another man.
People said things in the heat of the moment, and he couldn’t fault her for that, no matter how much it hurt, but he needed a moment alone.
Silently, he pulled on his training gear, laced up his boots, and left, trying to ignore the fact that she didn’t stop him.
 |
An insurmountable pile of guilt pressed down on Amelia like a lead blanket. He’d asked her not to use his alias. So even though to her Nick was Rennick now, and it was an honest slip up, the look on his face told her intent didn’t matter.
The impact had devastated him.
He’d told her he loved her, and she broke his heart and let him walk away.
There had to be a way to make it right.
An hour of wearing a hole in the rug of the sitting room had her shoulders tight with stress, and a knock at the door made her heart leap into her throat.
Rennick?
She sprinted across the room and threw open the door to find a pair of startled brown eyes staring back at her. A young maid stood beside a cart of food, and Amelia moved aside to let her in with a disappointed smile.
Dinner, she realized, remembering Ora’s words from earlier. “I’ll see you at dinner tonight.”
Had Rennick met Ora for dinner without her? If he had, she would return to the Human Kingdom. Amelia would not fight another woman for her mate’s attention.
The thought of being by herself made her feel worse, so when the maid tried to leave, Amelia blocked her path. “Will you stay?”
“Yes, Miss,” the maid replied instantly with a small curtsey. Amelia scrunched her nose. “Don’t do that. I’m not royalty.”
The girl seemed to war with herself for a moment. “We were instructed to treat you as we would a noble guest, Miss.”
“I’m Amelia,” she said, waving off Rennick’s orders. “Stop calling me Miss and please don’t curtsey again.”
The maid took Amelia’s outstretched hand. “I’m Fawn.”
“You don’t have to stay,” Amelia amended, realizing her request may have come off as an order. “I won’t be offended.”
Fawn shrugged and plopped down at the table across from where Amelia took a seat. “This was my last stop of the day.” Her eyes lingered on Amelia’s now exposed ears.
“I’m from the winter region of the Human Kingdom,” Amelia told her with a wry smile. “Bet you feel silly for curtsying now.”
Fawn pushed her hair behind her own human ear and smiled back when Amelia’s eyes rounded. “I’m half fae. My mother fell in love with a fae man from here.”
“How did they meet?” There were plenty of romance books about humans and fae, star-crossed lovers who beat the odds. She wanted to know how it played out in real life. For her own sake, she hoped well.
“My mother’s family owned a farm, and my grandfather delivered fresh produce to the Mountain Kingdom. My father owned a produce stand here, and one day, my mother accompanied my grandfather on a delivery.” Fawn fiddled with the tablecloth, her eyes distant. “I was born in the Human Kingdom, but right before I turned fourteen, they decided to raise me here. My ears are round, and for all intents and purposes, I was human.”
Amelia leaned forward, intrigued. “Was?”
“When I was twelve, I came to stay with my grandparents in the Mountain Kingdom for a few weeks while my parents traveled on an anniversary trip. Ever since then, I’ve had weak fae magic.” She chuckled. “About a year or so later, I was at school and had wished I could knock a boy’s teeth out for teasing me, and everyone started screaming when he smiled. I didn’t get it because he looked fine to me, but apparently, I’d glamoured him to be toothless.”
Amelia clapped as she laughed. She’d have given anything to see that. “Did they realize it was you?”
Fawn’s grin faded. “Yes. The teachers were nice about it, but my parents moved us here the next week. They didn’t want anyone fearing me. My father said fear makes people dangerous.” The faraway look in Fawn’s eyes vanished, and a mask of indifference slipped into place. “My parents were killed in a rebel attack a month later.”
Amelia recalled Rennick’s mentions of rebels. “Are there a lot of rebel attacks?”
“The attack that killed my parents had a lot of casualties, but it was a rare occurrence at the time. About five or so years ago, they’d become commonplace.” She smoothed her skirt and lifted a slim shoulder. “The last attack was three years ago, then the king and his father killed or captured them all… that we know of.”
Fawn hid her emotions better than anyone Amelia had ever met. She’d delivered the information with a convincing air of nonchalance.
“Don’t,” Fawn said sharply when Amelia opened her mouth to give her condolences. “I don’t need pity or to be treated like I’ll break.”
Amelia sat back in her chair. “I don’t pity you, but I do understand what it’s like to have no parents.” Fawn gave her a questioning look. “I grew up in an orphanage, and I didn’t have to go through the pain of loving them and losing them like you did, but I am familiar with the pitying stares. I assure you, pitying you is not on my agenda,” she leaned forward again, “but I do empathize.”
Fawn laughed humorlessly. “Who’d have thought two orphans with human ears would be dining in a fae king’s rooms?”
Amelia snorted. “I’m dining. You’re staring at me.” She waved her fork at the cart. “Eat before I order you to.” She tilted her head thoughtfully. “Can I order people around?”
Rolling her eyes, Fawn reached for a plate and filled it with steamed vegetables and a giant turkey leg bigger than her head. “Yes, Miss.”
Amelia smiled and ripped off a piece of roll to dunk into her gravy. “Are you married?”
Fawn choked, spewing her water across the table and misting the pretty candles that flickered between them. “I’m only twenty-six!”
“In the Human Kingdom, you’ve been an adult since you were eighteen,” Amelia pointed out. “Are the laws the same here?”
“Yes, but I don’t want to settle down yet, if ever. Men are worthless.” Fawn’s knuckles turned white around her fork.
Amelia cocked an eyebrow. “Spill it. What asshole broke your heart?”
The poor carrots on Fawn’s plate didn’t stand a chance against her stabbing assault. “We’ve had enough sob stories for today. Tell me why you’re really in the palace,” she gestured around them, “staying in the king’s rooms.”
Setting her silverware down, Amelia leaned her elbows on the table. “What does everyone think I’m doing here?” The vegetable assault halted. “Say it.”
“Some think you’re the king’s whore, but a few think you’re his mate, since he’s never brought another woman to the palace,” Fawn answered carefully. “No one knows you’re human, though. That was a surprise.”
Wrinkling her nose, Amelia aggressively ripped off another piece of bread. “Why would they think I’m his whore if he’s never brought anyone to the palace?”
“Those who don’t believe Ora is his mate think he’s given up on finding her since he’s not yet married.”
“They think Ora is his mate?” The thundercloud following her around turned positively black.
“Only because they have the same birthday and she leads everyone to believe she is.”
They have the same birthday? What did that have to do with anything?
Amelia sighed, touching her ear lightly. “I’m not allowed to tell anyone who I am.” She held up two fingers on each hand, bending them as she said, “For my protection.” Something told her Fawn was trustworthy, so she added, “If you tell anyone this, Rennick will kill you without hesitation, and I’d rather not lose the only person who’s been nice to me thus far.” The maid looked amused, not scared, and Amelia liked her even more. “I’m his mate.”
Fawn’s jaw dropped. “How?”
Amelia gasped and pointed at her. “You thought I was his whore!”
“I thought you were his mate,” Fawn replied defensively. “Until I saw your ears. I didn’t know it was possible for a fae to have human mates, especially not a royal.”
“I don’t know how it’s possible,” Amelia said, deciding not to be offended, “but he’s written me letters since we were thirteen. His friend, Finn, delivered them.”
“And you’re positive there was no mix up?” Fawn asked.
Amelia decided she was offended, after all. “He can feel my emotions, even when I lived in the Human Kingdom.”
“This is the best news I’ve heard in a while.” Amusement bounced in Fawn’s almond-shaped eyes. “The thought of Miss Ora as queen makes me want to move. She is horrid.”
“I think so too,” Amelia grumbled. “Rennick sent me gifts, and Ora helped him pick them out. They were awful.” She jumped up and dashed to the dressing room, retrieved the baby-shit-green boots, and rushed back, holding them up. “Look at these!”
Fawn’s hand slapped over her mouth to suppress her laughter, but the crinkling beside her eyes gave her away.
Amelia deposited the boots on the floor and sat down with a groan. “You should see the dresses. I knew she couldn’t be as wonderful as he made her out to be.”
“She treats the staff like servants when the king isn’t around,” Fawn informed bitterly. “Yet, if he is present, she’s so sweet you’d think she shits cupcakes. Everyone hates her, but no one dares say a word about the king’s best friend.”
“Best friend?” Amelia clenched her fists. “I thought Finn was his best friend.”
Fawn pressed her lips together, her face full of sympathy. “They both are.”
Amelia pushed down the emotion building in her throat. “He called her princess and told her I was just a friend.”
Fawn looked indignant on her behalf. “Why?”
Amelia slumped back in her chair, but Fawn’s hand found hers on the table and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “If he brought you here, she poses no threat to you. The king I know is not deceitful. He’s a good ruler who treats everyone equally, even his staff. He ensures his people are fed, housed, and have everything they need, regardless of their financial status.”
Amelia felt a warmth in her heart from hearing such praise for Rennick, but earlier memories chilled it. “He might have changed his mind about me since this morning.”
She marveled at how much had happened in a single day: traveling to the Mountain Kingdom, meeting Ora, possibly jeopardizing her relationship with Rennick, and dining with Fawn.
Fawn rose and began collecting their mostly empty plates. “I doubt it. You’re his mate.”
“We were intimate earlier,” Amelia said, stopping Fawn in her tracks. “He told me he loved me, and I think I ruined it.”
Fawn placed the dishes on the cart and looked back at Amelia. “You don’t love him?”
“I think I do.” Amelia rubbed her forehead, searching for the right words. “I told myself I couldn’t love someone just through letters, without meeting them first.” She sighed. “But in person, he’s the same, only more so, in the best way.”
Saying it out loud felt worse.
After Fawn wiped down the table, she took a seat and leaned back. “I don’t think so. You said he’s the same as his letters, and if you fell in love with his letters, it makes sense you fell in love with the man too. The ‘more’ is just a bonus.” She paused thoughtfully. “How far would you go to make him happy?”
Without hesitation, Amelia answered, “As far as it takes.”
“Most people don’t go to great lengths for someone they don’t love,” Fawn said, her tone tinged with sadness. “You’re overthinking what you should feel instead of what you do feel.”
Amelia nodded, her thoughts gnawing at her. Her heart ached, and thinking of him made it hard to breathe. “I hate that he’s somewhere hurting because of me, and I don’t know where to find him to make it right.”
“He’ll return once he cools off,” Fawn assured her. “This will give you time to come up with a way to make it up to him.”
Amelia hoped Fawn was right.
—
The next morning, Amelia paced their sitting room, having heard nothing from Rennick since the previous night. What if it was too late to fix her mistake?
The green boots mocked her when she entered their dressing room. Had he gone to Ora yesterday? He had saved himself for Amelia, but what if she had pushed him into another woman’s arms?
“No,” she said to the empty room. The man she knew wasn’t so fickle as to rush to another woman that quickly.
Setting aside her pride, she put on the unattractive boots, hoping he would see her wearing something he had given her, and changed into one of the dreadful dresses.
Various trunks lined the open walls. She opened each one until she found her bow set. The idea of hunting made her uneasy, and while she had practiced with the bow to impress him if they ever met, she had never intended to shoot a living animal.
That was about to change. He liked to hunt, and she intended to ask him to join her. Strapping the bow and quiver across her back, she told herself not to puke.
She ventured down the hallway, searching for someone to help her find Rennick. After what felt like ten turns through the vast hallways, she resolved to get a map of the palace as soon as possible. After an hour of walking and seeing no one, it felt as though the palace was deserted.
Finally, an older maid with light brown skin and a tight grey bun hurried up a staircase Amelia had not noticed.
“Excuse me!”
The maid looked up, freezing upon seeing Amelia. “Yes, Miss?”
Amelia approached with a friendly smile and glanced at the stack of linens in the maid’s arms. “I’m sorry to bother you while you’re working, but have you seen King Rennick?”
The maid’s lips pressed together as she assessed Amelia’s attire. “He’s usually in his study in the mornings.”
“I’m afraid I don’t know my way around,” Amelia admitted sheepishly. “Would you mind showing me?”
“Of course, Miss. It’s on the main floor.”
Amelia followed the maid, who introduced herself as Birdie, through winding halls and down two flights of stairs. They chatted as Birdie shared details about her life—her nickname, her age, her children, and her husband who worked as a groundskeeper at the palace.
By the time they rounded the final corner, Amelia held half of the linens, and they were laughing like old friends. Birdie pointed to an open door down the hall. “He’s in there, Miss.”
“I told you to call me Amelia, and thank you.”
Her heart raced at the sound of Rennick’s deep voice, though she couldn’t make out his words. Since their carriage ride, she had been trying to manage her emotions and hoped he wouldn’t sense her anxiety. Calm yourself.
Birdie smiled as Amelia turned to say goodbye, but they both stopped when a melodic voice floated down the hall.
The voice giggled, “You’re terrible, Ren.”
Rennick’s hearty laugh followed. “No worse than you. Do you have any plans today?”
The linens Amelia was holding dropped to the floor, and Birdie’s brow furrowed as she looked between Amelia and the study.
“Are you okay?” Birdie whispered, low enough for only them to hear.
“Who is the woman with him?” Amelia whispered back, already knowing the answer.
“That’s Miss Ora,” Birdie said, her sympathy too obvious. Did she think Ora was his mate and Amelia his mistress?
Amelia’s heart, which had been racing moments before, shattered, joining the crumpled linens on the floor. She wanted to disappear, go home, or do anything but stand in the hallway and listen to him with her.
Birdie looked around frantically, bumping into Amelia’s shoulder. “What in the world? Where did you go?”
“What do you mean?” Amelia asked, still staring at the office. “You’re a royal,” Birdie whispered in awe.
More laughter came from Rennick’s study, and Amelia had no time to process the maid’s strange claim because everything within her broke. Everything.
A deep grunt came from the room, followed by Ora’s sweet voice. “Ren, are you okay?”
Amelia ran.
