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He holds both palms in front of him in a calming motion and digs his heels in the ground. Wait. I sink my nails in my palms not to spin around and run as he pinches his lips in a gesture of apology and shame. I’m sorry. He places a hand over his heart. Really.

The silent conversation sparks unfamiliar shivers inside me, not one of them unpleasant. He’s terrifyingly similar to One, and between Three’s shirtless state, my sexual frustration, and the soft morning glories grazing my arm…it’s a recipe for disaster.

A hiccup shakes my throat. “I—I need to get to bed.”

His shoulders sag, and he angles his beautifully haunting mask to the ground. Sorry to hear that.

I return to my room in a haze, still clutching the damn flower. When I get there, a velvet box with a note waits for me on my bed. I pry out the handwritten message from the ribbon and let out a nervous giggle.

Penelope… I apologize for my unspeakable behavior the night of your first trial. I wasn’t myself. I had this made for you. It’ll please me if you wear it.

-Damian

The beautiful calligraphy seems to move by itself on the page, but it’s only tears blurring my vision. I click open the velvet box and swallow hard at the sight of the crescent-shaped pendant.

How appropriate.

I rub down my face and shake out the nerves. For whatever reason, the king has decided to court me. A knot forms in my stomach, and I’m not sure this gift is better than forcing me to strip. I’m still obligated to wear it and play by his rules.

I clasp it around my neck and toss Three’s flower in the fire. Looking at myself in the mirror, I clutch the emerald. For better or worse, I’ve caught the king’s eye. The golden chain suddenly feels like a noose around my neck, more obvious than a hot-iron brand on a horse’s rump.

The stuffy days of summer are officially behind us. Faerie is different from Demeter in that when the seasons change, they really change on the day—the weather doesn’t go back and forth over the course of a few weeks.

After Foghar, the days shorten immediately, and the Hawthorn’s ripe fruits and leaves adorn red, orange, and yellow colors overnight.

The next couple of weeks are spent in a cloud of sweat and tears as I dive deeper into the Dreaming with Two. The dark Fae is eager to take me through a hundred different, freakishly vivid dreams of all the people I know, making me despise most of my acquaintances.

Everyone’s a beast, deep inside. When it comes down to it, all souls yearn for what they can’t have.

“Two claims that I need the practice to become impervious to the enchantments that govern the Dreaming—but it feels like torture,” I tell Lori over breakfast, the both of us sitting together on the balcony.

The day is particularly windy. The corner of the building protects us from most of the chilly draft as Lori nibbles on her croissant, huddled inside her hoodie with her legs propped beneath her.

“Don’t worry, if he’s got you running circles in the Dreaming at all hours of the day, it’s because you’re good,” she says.

“I don’t think so. He hates me.”

The relentless schedule—pulling me out of bed at odd hours of the night, or keeping me awake for long stretches of time—might be enough for me to lose my mind if it goes on any longer.

Lori pats my hand in a reassuring way, peeking over the railing at Jo and James who are doing yoga together on the grass. “Two doesn’t hate you. He just loves himself more.” Her tongue darts out to touch her bottom lip, her cheeks rosy in the autumn chill as she adds absentmindedly, “I’m telling you. The triplets ride their best students the hardest.”

I blush at the sexual connotation, and Lori’s eyes bulge as she leans forward in her seat. “Shit! I didn’t mean it like that, I just?—”

“I know. Any sightings of One? Or Mara?”

The two of them haven’t been seen since Foghar, and I can’t quite quell my jealousy at the thought that One is giving her very private hunting lessons somewhere off-world.

“No, and the High Fae haven’t visited since the harvest celebration, either. I swear…it’s like they’ve been banned from the library altogether. I’m bored out of my mind.” She rolls her neck back and forth against the headrest of her chair.

I miss One. I miss our quarrels and the way he gets under my skin. I keep thinking about Foghar, and the way he rushed me to bed. The look on his face when I begged him to kiss me lives in my soul, and I can’t help but wonder how differently he might have acted if he’d believed I was in my right mind.

“Have you heard from the king? Since, you know…” Lori motions in the general direction of my chest, the emerald pendant still locked around my neck.

“Not at all.”

Jo approaches us from the side. “Hey, Nell. Lori.” He pats off his sweaty face with a towel, naked from the waist up like he’s not at all bothered by the wind. “Here’s the book you asked for. I’m sorry it took so long,” he says with a wince as he hands it over, the real cover masked by a different dust jacket.

Ever since the king staked his claim at the ball, the men in the group have given me a wide berth, and I’m surprised to be back in Jo’s good graces.