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“Cozy,” he remarks, his gaze sweeping across my desk where the bare shape of my new costume is sketched out in lace, then back over the hangers full of costumes and the rumpled bed. My face warms.

“Sorry for the mess.”

“If you think this is messy, don’t come to my place.” He runs a hand over the costume on the desk and I shiver as if he’s made contact with my skin. “You make these? That’s amazing. Are you going to wear this one?”

“Bear doesn’t like when my costumes have frills, so maybe not.” I check the lace is properly tacked before lifting it to my body. “I think it will look good, though.”

He gives me a look and my stomach twists in a way I don’t understand.

“It’s gorgeous,” he says with his eyes fixed on my face.

I put the costume back down and straighten the fabric out to avoid looking at him. “Thank you.”

“Is this what’s keeping you up at night?”

“It’s not that.” I sit on the edge of the bed and get a clean sleeping set out of the nightstand. I reach for the hem of my shirt and Ezra coughs and turns his back.

“I can go,” he offers.

“Why?” I ask, bewildered.

He makes a strange noise. “Never mind.”

I change into the soft, silky sleeping shorts and shirt, sighing as I get between the sheets. Ezra turns, and his gaze softens.

“I guess I gotta tuck you in, huh?”

He pulls the blanket up, but when he starts to move away I panic. Everything I’ve been suppressing spills down my nerves, jolting me to life, and without thinking I grab his wrist. I can’t be alone. I can’t face another round of sleepless nights.

“Stay,” I whisper. “Please.”

He chokes. “Um. Like, in what way?”

13

EZRA

Stay?

My head spins.

“I have nightmares.” It takes me a moment to realize Lysander’s reply is the answer to my question. “That’s why I haven’t been sleeping.”

I struggle to put two and two together, but I come up blank.

“I’m not sure it’s a good idea for me to stay,” I stall. In fact, I know it’s not a good idea. Me, a fairy prince, and a bed? His sleep-softened expression falls, and my heart sinks with it.

“I understand,” he murmurs, getting out of the bed.

“Hey, you’re exhausted. Are you sure you shouldn’t just rest?”

He slips past me. “I sleep in the hammock sometimes. It helps.”

‘The hammock’ is a rope net hanging from the ceiling that I didn’t even notice before now. Hesleepsin that?

“No way. That can’t be comfortable.” I take hold of his shoulders before the logical part of me can protest and I steer him back to the bed with minimal struggle. He’s so pliant right now that the urge to coddle him rises powerfully.

“It’s fine,” he protests, but he slumps under my hands.