Page 18

ALIX

“ A lix, get up!”

I open my eyes to the strongest sense of déjà vu and Odessa’s face looming over me. “Hey,” I yawn. “What time is it?”

“About 5 in the evening.”

For a second, my sleepy brain can’t process what she means and I have to take a second before I remember that 5PM is like 5AM here. Ugh, I might be used to the hours now, but the terminology will never fully compute. “Right…” I stifle another yawn. “Are we going somewhere?”

“Yes, but it’s a surprise. Happy birthday!”

In spite of myself, a smile crosses my face.

Odessa dances over to the wardrobe, bouncing with every step. She pulls out a teal wool coat with white fur trim and holds it out to me. “This is a good color for you.”

It hasn’t taken long for me to learn that it's easiest not to argue with her about things like this and just go with it. I dress quickly in a sage green dress and the heavy teal coat, then accompany her downstairs.

It’s early—or rather, late—so there aren’t many courtiers in the hall or milling around outside the throne room. The castle feels still, and even more imposing that’s usual for all its echoing emptiness.

Odessa leads me through the maze of corridors to the first floor entrance hall. The only people we pass are one of the red-jacketed guards, standing in an alcove and talking in hushed tones to a dark-haired woman. The guard is blonde and on the thin side with large copper-colored wings.

“That’s so sad.” Odessa sighs under her breath.

I frown. “What is?”

“His wings are out and he’s not under direct threat. I guess unless she’s holding a knife to his gut.” She glances back over her shoulder at the whispering couple. “Nope. No knife, so it’s definitely just sad.”

“I don’t understand. Explain it to me like I’m five.”

The corners of her mouth tip up for just a second, before her expression turns serious again. “Thousands of years ago, Fae had wings all the time, but they evolved past it. Now the wings only come out in moments of intense emotion.”

“Like near death experiences,” I chime in, remembering what Kastian explained.

“Exactly. Fighting is the most common time wings are seen, but that’s not all. Males tend to show their wings around their soul-bonds, even before the bond has fully formed. Casually seeing the wings of someone you’re dating is like”—she waves her hand in the air— “this whole important thing.”

“Huh. Okay, I guess that makes sense.”

We reach the front doors of the castle and Odessa pushes them wide. The cold night air spills inside, bringing in the scent of snow and roses, and making goosebumps rise on the exposed skin of my face and neck.

“So that’s why whatever was going on with them back there is so depressing.” Odessa continues as we step out onto the icy steps. “They’re clearly new bonds, but there’s only a few weeks left until the rose moon. It just doesn’t seem fair to find your bonded and then lose them so fast. I’d rather never find them.”

A gnawing dread rises in my stomach. I press my gloved fingers to my abdomen, willing the churning to stop. “So you don’t think the curse will break?”

She looks at me sharply and has to throw her hand out to the railing and catch herself before she trips down the endless steps. “No, sorry…I didn’t mean it like that.”

There’s an awkward silence, because clearly, she did mean it like that. I guess I’m not the only one with doubts about this plan. Maybe if I really was Nana, it would work…but maybe not even then, because the king is so disinterested. It really doesn’t look or feel like fated love.

Odessa exhales sharply. “Look, sirens are really superstitious. Culturally, we believe a lot in fate, and I don’t think things like this just happen. When Belle wandered into Ellender all those years ago we all thought she was the one who’d finally save all of us. Now her granddaughter is here when there’s only weeks left to break the curse? That feels like fate to me. I don’t know what’s going to happen, but I believe there’s a reason you’re here.”

The sick feeling in my gut intensifies. I personally don’t believe in fate, but for once, I hope I’m wrong. The longer I spend here, the more real all of this seems, and the more I can’t imagine that in two weeks the entire court will just be gone. And Daemon will be gone along with them.

“I hope you’re right,” I flash her a weak smile, then cast my mind wildly around for anything to change the subject. “For a siren, you seem to know a lot about Fae…”

She gives me a sideways look. “Well, yeah, I was raised at court.”

“But you’re not Fae, even though you and Daemon are cousins?” I prod.

I’m intensely curious about this world and how everything works, but no one seems inclined to explain it. I get the feeling that Odessa and the others aren’t hiding anything from me on purpose. They just don’t think to explain things that feel obvious to them.

“King Thorne is Daemon’s half-brother through his biological father, and I’m his cousin through his mother, Lady Ashwater.”

I frown, trying to keep it all straight in my head. “Oh, okay then.”

“My mother was a siren and my father was Lady Ashwater’s brother. That would make me half-Fae, except that all female children of sirens are also sirens.”

I nod. I note as someone whose father also died that she’s saying “was.” Her father was Daemon’s uncle, but he isn’t now. A rush of empathy that can only come from also losing a parent floods me, and I instantly feel closer to Odessa without her having to do anything at all.

I don’t want to make her go into detail if she doesn’t want to, but there’s still a question that I can’t help asking. “So…sorry if this is rude, but why do you have legs?”

In my head, Gretchen Weiner’s voice screams, Oh my God, Alix. You can’t just ask people why they have legs!

“It’s a long story,” Odessa says evasively. “And we’re almost there, anyway.”

I duck my head, feeling a little awkward for prying. Maybe siren tales are like the Fae’s wings and only appear sometimes? Or maybe Odessa isn’t like the fairytale mermaids I’ve been picturing and she’s something else?

Odessa hooks her arm through mine and jogs down the remaining steps. We turn left at the bottom, and she leads me a short way to a low wooden-walled building. Immediately the scent of hay and barnyard hits me.

I freeze. “What is this?”

“The stables,” Odessa says.

Um, no. No thank you. Get me out of here right fucking now.

We’re standing in a long room, larger than it appeared from the outside. On both sides, there are rows and rows of horse stalls with a walkway down the middle. At the end of the row, I can see four familiar red jacketed figures fixing saddles onto several enormous black and chestnut horses.

I barely notice the men, as I’m completely fixated on the horses. I take a large step back, lingering just inside the doorway.

“What’s wrong?” Odessa asks.

Before I can answer, Kastian, who is nearest, looks up at the sound of her voice. His sudden movement startles the horses, because the stallion next to him paws the ground nervously and he pats its neck to calm it down.

Odessa grabs my hand again and tries to tug me further inside. “Come on, this will be fun!”

I dig my heels in, trying not to let her drag me. “What are we doing here?”

“We’re going on a little day trip,” Odessa says happily. “Or, a night trip, I guess would be more appropriate.”

“And we’re taking those?” I ask nervously, looking up at the nearest horse.

“Yes,” Daemon replies, stepping out from behind one of the beasts.

I glance up and meet his eyes. We’ve barely spoken in days, but of course my traitorous body doesn’t know that. My heart beat speeds up at just the sight of him, and I feel a strange swooping in my stomach.

God, get a grip!

“Um, okay.” I tear my eyes from Daemon and look down, biting my lip. “But just to clarify, you mean we’re taking a wagon pulled by the horses, right? Like when we came from the inn?”

Please, please say yes.

“No,” Daemon replies. “We’re riding. The train still hasn’t been repaired, and it doesn’t go to where we’re headed anyway.”

“Uh, no. No, thank you,” I blurt out, yanking my arm away from Odessa and backing up a few steps. “You can do whatever you want, but I’m not getting on a horse.”

“Have you never ridden before?” Kastian asks, sounding surprised.

“Once?”

“What happened?”

“I don’t want to talk about it. It doesn’t matter. I’m just not comfortable with horses. They’re fine at a distance, but I’m not riding one.”

Perplexed, Daemon turns to the others. “We can’t bring a wagon. It’s too slow.”

“She can ride with you,” Jett says.

As if it’s so easy.

I put both hands up. “No way. That doesn’t make it less horrifying, just less comfortable.”

Daemon grimaces. “Then I guess we’re not going.”

I glance around. Odessa looks crestfallen, and even the others look disappointed. Immediately, I feel terrible. They’re trying to do something nice for me, and my stupid fear is ruining it. I sigh and pinch the skin between my eyes.

I hate disappointing people.

I agree to at least try the horse, and everyone watches with bated breath as Daemon lifts me up into the saddle. I’m holding my breath too, but for completely different reasons. I’m afraid to move a muscle and scare the horse.

“Take the reins,” Daemon says.

“Nope, I’m good right here,” I say stiffly, my fingers curling tightly around the edge of the saddle.

He closes his eyes and tips his head back, evidently praying for patience. “I take it you don’t know how to ride?”

I move enough to glare at him. “I told you I don’t go near horses. The closest I’ve ever come to regular contact with farm animals is when my Barbies rode the My Little Ponies. Why the hell would you assume I know how to ride?”

Jett leans back against one of the stalls, crossing his arms. “I’m telling you Ashwater, all this would be solved if you just have her ride with you.”

Daemon lifts a brow at me in question.

At first I say no, but after another ten minutes of back and forth, somehow, I find myself agreeing to riding with Daemon. I really need to work on standing my ground, or at least explaining myself better when I’m uncomfortable, but I guess today isn’t that day. Anyway, I do want to celebrate my birthday, even if that just means new scenery.

I expect to sit on the back of the horse, like we’re on a motorcycle. Instead, Daemon positions me in front of where he will ultimately sit. I’m perched on the edge of the saddle, the hard leather ridge digging into my ass.

It only gets worse when Daemon climbs on behind me.

It’s very clear he knows his way around a horse because he climbed up into the saddle with the sort of confident muscle memory that belies years of practice. Unfortunately, the moment he sits, I feel him tense. “You have to slide back.”

“Uh, no, I’m okay.” This is already horrifying enough—I don’t think pressing my ass against his crotch is going to improve the situation.

“You can’t sit on the edge of the saddle like that,” Daemon grinds out.

“Why not?”

“Because the second we start moving, your pretty little cunt won’t be so pretty anymore. You’ll be so sore you won’t be able to walk tomorrow.”

My mouth falls open, heat rushing to my face. “Excuse me?”

He doesn’t respond. Instead, his hands clamp around my waist, dragging me backward until my spine is flush against his chest.

I shift slightly, readjusting, and just as I’d feared, my ass presses firmly against him. “Are you happy now?”

“Fucking perfect.”

It takes me a second to process that his response is in no way an answer to my question. A shiver travels up my spine, and I have to bite my lip to keep from saying something stupid as we finally start moving.

It doesn’t take me long to realize that I’ve been right to be afraid of horses. Riding is terrifying, and made all the worse because the only thing to distract me is the musky rose and pine scent of whatever soap Daemon recently used, and how my ass bounces against him with every movement.

Soon, we get to the dirt road through the forest and everyone fans out, riding in groups of two or three. Clearly, they’ve all been riding horses for years—probably as long as I’ve been riding in cars, I suppose.

“Why are you afraid of horses?” Daemon asks.

I grit my teeth. “I don’t want to talk about it. And anyway, this is probably the worst possible time to remind me that I’m afraid.”

He sucks in a breath like he’s going to say something else, but he doesn’t.

We ride for fifteen minutes in silence with Daemon sitting perfectly straight and still behind me. Finally, he adjusts slightly, his chin landing just over the top of my head. Without intending, I relax enough to stop sitting at such a tension, leaning my back more firmly against his chest.

He doesn’t comment on it, and I’m glad because I don’t know if I could explain myself. Half of me wants nothing to do with him, while the other half wants to crawl into his lap and see if he kisses as well as I remember.

We crest a small hill, and my mouth falls open at the sight of dozens of glittering lights in the distance. As we draw closer, a small village comes into view. I know Nana never saw this place because if she did, it would have absolutely made it into the book.

The village is picturesque, with brightly painted cottages, flowers in every window, and sparkling lanterns hanging from every rooftop illuminating the street so that even though the sky is dark, everything feels warm and inviting.

As we pass, people come running out of their houses to see us and wave or cry out greetings.

“Why are they cheering?”

“Because no one has been here to watch over them for ninety years.”

I wrinkle my nose in confusion. “So you’re like their king.”

“No, I’m a Baron. It’s a lesser noble title, like…” He thinks for a moment, clearly trying to find the right word. “Like a governor.”

“And no one became the new governor while you were gone?”

He shakes his head, and I feel the movement against my back. “It’s an inherited title. Unless I die or have children, these people are on their own.”

I frown. That doesn’t seem right. But then again, I am way too modern to deal with Fae politics. I’ve seen Le Mis like twenty times and if I were the one dealing with an absolute monarchy day-to-day I’d totally be singing the song of angry men.

“What’s the village called?” I ask, changing the subject.

Daemon clears his throat. “Storia.”

I want to stop and explore, but we keep riding and eventually come to a sudden halt in front of the extravagant mansion. The weathered stone walls are adorned with climbing roses and ivy, giving the home a rustic yet elegant feel. The shadow of a small tower rises up behind the peak of the roof, and to the side of the house, I spot a large rose garden. Out front is a courtyard where all our horses stop.

“Don’t tell me this is your house?” I say, awed.

Daemon doesn’t answer, just swings down from the saddle and lands lightly on the cobblestone. “Let me help you down.”

I swallow. I don’t want to seem helpless, but at the same time I have no clue how to get off this thing. Somehow, I get my leg over the horse's neck, then Daemon reaches up and wraps his strong arms around my waist, lifting me down gracefully. A surge of electricity courses through my body at the touch of his fingers against my skin, sending shivers down my spine.

“Thanks,” I breathe.

He opens his mouth to say something, but never gets a chance.

There’s a loud cry and suddenly a blur of movement overtakes us.

A woman comes running out of the house and completely ignores me as she launches herself straight at Daemon. She says something, but I can’t understand her over her sobs. Daemon seems to understand though, because he says, “I’m so sorry.”

The woman is lightly plump and shorter than my 5’4” frame by several inches. Her raven black hair is twisted into a bun at the nape of her neck and she’s wearing a frilly purple and gold apron over a cream-colored dress. My stomach twists. How many exes am I going to have to meet?

And as usual, why the fuck do I care?

I back away toward Odessa and the others, but don’t make it there before Daemon disentangles himself from the crying woman and steps back. She takes a handkerchief out of her pocket and blows her nose loudly.

Looking a bit lost, Daemon turns in a circle, seemingly looking for me. “Al–Isabelle,” he says, stumbling over my name. “Come meet Lady Ashwater, my mother.”

Oh. Oh.

Now I feel like a fucking lunatic because that was clearly a parental sort of hug and I’m obviously on edge for no reason.

In fairness, Lady Ashwater does look really young to have an adult son. This must be what happens when no one ages–it’s hard to tell the parents from the grown children. Still, I’m clearly dealing with some weird jealousy issues that I’ve never experienced before. Ever. Not about Ryan, or anyone else. What the hell is going on with me?

“It’s nice to meet you, Lady Ashwater,” I say, sure I’m blushing.

“Oh please.” Lady Ashwater blows her nose loudly, then smacks her son on the arm with the same handkerchief. “No one calls me a lady anymore. You can call me Beatrix.”

“Okay. Hi,” I repeat, slightly dazed by the whole exchange.

I don’t know why it didn’t occur to me that going to Daemon’s family estate might mean meeting his family. I don’t have a great track record with meeting families—Ryan’s mother hated me from the moment she laid eyes on me and I was never really able to pinpoint why. I wonder if she’ll like Jenna any better.

“What’s your name, dear?” Beatrix asks. “I didn’t catch it.”

“This is Isabelle,” Daemon says pointedly.

Beatrix frowns and leans closer, the way Odessa did when we first met. Her eyes dart shrewdly over my face for a long moment. “Isabelle…what?”

“ Reading ,” I fill in quickly.

“Interesting.” Her eyes narrow for the slightest moment before she pulls back and smiles. “Well, come inside. You’ll want tea, I’m sure, and dessert?” She gestures to the door. “Be my guest!”

The Ashwater Estate is just that—an estate.

I never really knew what that meant before and always associated the word with gated communities and private golf courses, but Daemon’s house is nothing like that. Every inch of the entrance hall sparkles—from the glittering mosaic on the floor to the grand staircase leading up to the other levels.

Beatrix leads us past the grand staircase and through a set of intricately carved double doors, into a formal dining room. Beyond the dining room is an expansive kitchen, fit for a gourmet chef despite the lack of modern appliances. Despite the enormous size, the room is warm and homey. The scent of freshly baked bread wafts from the oven, filling the room with nostalgic comfort.

As promised, Beatrix makes tea and biscuits. Given that she’s a lady, no matter what she likes to be called, I was expecting her to have an army of servants, but Beatrix surprises me by preparing everything herself. She bustles around the kitchen with a very “mom” type energy that I’ve never really experienced before.

While she boils water, Beatrix monologues about everything that’s happened while Daemon has been gone. The village hasn’t grown much, but they’ve lost less people to the curse than other villages in the area. Someone started a new bakery and the traveling book merchant decided to settle here last year and has opened a permanent bookstore. Beatrix has been working in the garden often, and someone named Aurelia is doing well, except that lately she’s been asking to travel outside of Storia.

“Where is she?” Daemon asks at the mention of Aurelia.

“Oh, around here somewhere,” Beatrix says airily, as she carries a plate of biscuits over to the table. “I’m sure she’ll come out at dinner time.”

She takes a seat at the head of the large wooden breakfast table and fixes her son with a stern gaze, her previously teary eyes now unyielding. “Well, are you going to explain what you’re doing here, or shall I guess?”

I glance over at Daemon, suddenly very interested to see how this goes. I’ve heard the best way to see what a man is really like is to pay attention to how they treat their mothers. I only wish I’d heard that before marrying Ryan. He was always rude to his mother, while she acted like he shat roses and rainbows.

I shake my head.

I am not evaluating Daemon for anything, and I shouldn’t care one way or another how he treats his mother. In fact, I should probably excuse myself before I do something stupid…like get too comfortable here or melt into a pile of emotional goo for no reason.

I stand abruptly. Everyone turns to look at me.

My gaze travels around the kitchen and falls on a back door. Beyond, I can see rows and rows of rosebushes. “Does anyone mind if I explore outside? It’s so pretty, and I’ve heard this story anyway.”

Six sets of eyes swivel off me and onto Daemon, clearly waiting for his orders. His jaw clenches, like he’s fighting some internal battle. I’m about to argue that it’s my birthday, when he says, “Fine. One of you go with her.”

As one, Fox, Jett and Kastian all stand. They look at each other, shrug, and the four of us file toward the door.

“I’ll go too!” Odessa says, quickly standing up.

“Sit,” Beatrix says sternly. “Don’t think you’re getting away without explaining to me why you haven’t visited in years. You weren’t in prison; you have no excuse.”

Odessa sits with a huff and blows her bangs out of her face. Under the table, I see Daemon kick her chair and throw her a look like “At least I’m not the only one in for a lecture.” Dessa makes a face at him, then reaches for a fork on the table and twirls it between her fingers, scowling with evident boredom.

I almost laugh. For a fraction of a second, they seem like teenagers and for the first time ever I can envision how this mismatched little family used to operate.

A spark of jealousy and longing hits me straight in the chest.

Yup, I need to get out of here.

I do not want to think about that because some stupid part of me is dying to be a part of some perfect little family unit, and the last thing I need is to forget that I don’t belong here.

The garden feels like another world entirely.

There are rows and rows of rosebushes stretching down a hill and out of sight. Some are so tall, they might as well be trees, and weaving between them feels like being stuck in a fragrant hedge maze. The velvety darkness is illuminated by a sea of twinkling fireflies.

“Shit, this place is enormous,” Jett says in awe, turning in a circle to see every inch of the garden. “I don’t feel bad about taking Ashwater’s money in poker anymore. He’s obviously good for it.”

I grimace, remembering Daemon’s promise to pay me more gold than I could possibly imagine. At the time, I’d sort of thought he was exaggerating, but I’m so broke I wasn’t in a position to negotiate. After seeing this house, though, I’m wondering if he was being literal. I don’t even want to know what a place like this would cost back home. $10,000,000? $100,000,000? It’s hard to say.

“Didn’t you all know about this house?” I ask.

“Hell no!” Jett grins, striding across the garden wearing an expression like a kid visiting Disney World for the first time. “We knew he had a title before Dyaspora, but I’ve never even seen an estate like this that wasn’t a royal palace.”

“I knew,” Kastian says without inflection.

I glance at him. “You did? Why?”

He shrugs, looking like he wishes he hadn’t spoken. “I know what a Baron is. This isn’t unusual for that kind of title.”

“Did you grow up in a place like this too, then?”

He shifts uncomfortably. “Where I grew up is nowhere worth remembering.”

Huh. Okay…

Feeling slightly awkward, like I accidentally brought up something that upset Kastian, I quickly trot after Jett who has disappeared into the wild rose garden.

Except, Jett has completely disappeared.

Several paces into the wild roses and I already feel completely cut off from the estate and the village beyond. It’s silent except for the sound of my feet against the frosty ground and the air is thick with the scent of blooming roses and jasmine, creating an intoxicating aroma that pulls me further in. I wander further into the darkness pressing in around me, until I’m not paying attention to where I’m going at all.

My foot catches, and I stumble, jumping back as I nearly collide with a figure kneeling in the middle of the path. “Ah!”

The woman on the ground looks at me with enormous startled eyes, like a deer in the headlights. She scrambles back across the snowy path and just manages to avoid my foot as it comes down hard right where she was sitting.

I jump back, trying to steady myself and my hand flies to my now rapidly beating heart. “Oh my God, shit, I’m sorry!”

“Oh…that’s alright.” The woman blinks up at me, seeming slightly dazed.

“Here, let me help you.” I hold out my hand to help her up.

She looks at my hand for a long second, and my chest constricts with guilt and embarrassment until she finally grasps my fingers.

“Thanks,” she breathes, straightening and dusting herself off.

The woman is lovely in a delicate sort of way. Petite, thin, and wearing a bright magenta cloak over her shoulders. Her skin is tan, almost as dark as Kastian’s, and she has enormous brown eyes nearly the same color as her dark hair. Her hair is cut short, just above her chin, and pushed behind pointed ears. Being Fae, it’s hard to know exactly how old she is, but her expressions make me think she’s on the younger side.

“Sorry,” I say again, my overactive heartbeat slowly returning to normal. “I was just exploring.”

“Really, it’s fine.” She flashes a shy smile. “I shouldn’t be in the middle of the path like this, but I spotted this patch of rapunzel and I couldn’t stop myself from stopping to collect it.”

“Patch of what?”

The woman points. I follow her gaze toward a patch of tiny bell-shaped blue flowers growing at the base of the nearest rose bush. Beside the plant, sits a little pile of plucked leaves.

“Oh,” I say, though I don’t entirely understand. “Well, I didn’t mean to bother you.”

“That’s alright.” Her voice is small and delicate, just like her appearance. “Are you visiting the manor?”

“Yes. I’m Isabelle,” I say, the name feeling foreign on my tongue.

She holds out a hand to shake mine. “Aurelia.”

“Oh!” I grin. “Beatrix mentioned you. Do you live here, or…”

“Yes!” She nods, her demeanor quickly changing as she recovers from her shock. “I do, and we never get visitors, so?—”

“Alix!”

Aurelia breaks off and we both turn to find Jett crashing through the roses behind us. The thorny branches get stuck to his bright red jacket and in his hair and he throws them off roughly, taking out his long sword to better hack his way toward me. “Alix! Where—” He spots me and his eyes light up. “Oh, thank fucking Gods, I thought Ashwater was going to skin me alive for losing you. Don’t tell him, okay?”

I smile, bemused, but Aurelia looks up at me curiously. “I thought your name was Isabelle?”

“Uh…long story.” Jett finally reaches us and I turn to him, seeking a distraction from fumbling my name. “Aurelia, this is Jett. He’s—” I struggle for a moment to find the right word to describe Jett. “—a friend.”

I expect him to respond with an enthusiastic greeting, but he doesn’t. I glance at him, and find that he’s not smiling at all anymore, just staring at Aurelia with obvious shock. You’d think he’d never seen a pretty girl before, but I’ve seen him flirt shamelessly with Odessa and even me sometimes. “Um, do you already know each other?”

Jett shakes his head, then refocuses on me. “Come back to the house. These gardens are weird, I swear I only walked a few feet and got lost.”

“Oh yeah, that happens,” Aurelia says with a tinkling laugh. “Come on, I’ll show you the way out. Careful of the thorns. One of these days, I swear they're going to poke someone’s eyes out.”

She grabs her basket of herbs and walks confidently down the path, clearly having recovered from my startling her. Uncharacteristically, Jett is still silent and unsmiling as we follow her.

“Are you going to join us for dinner?” I ask.

She shakes her head, stopping at the edge of the garden where the lights of the house are visible once more, and the top of the little tower stands out against the dark sky. “No…I don’t think so. But it was nice to meet you, Alix .” She gives me a mischievous smile and glances once at Jett before retreating into the house.

Daemon and Odessa finally emerge from Beatrix’s lecture, and for the rest of the afternoon, the six of us explore the estate and the little town of Storia. The town is magical—even more of a fairytale wonderland than the city outside the Winter Palace, and I spend hours pursuing the little shops. The new bookstore that Beatrix mentions is especially exciting: dusty and haphazard in the way that the best kind of bookstores should be.

“I have a book here written in English,” the shopkeeper tells me excitedly. “Look!”

I take the book, flipping through the thin pages in confusion. The book itself is beautiful—a gilded copy of an old classic, but I frown. I lean over to Fox, who is standing the closest. “I thought all these books were in English.”

Fox looks down at me and raises an eyebrow. “No. We don’t speak that.”

I laugh. “Um…yes you do. We’re speaking English now.”

Only as the words leave my mouth do I realize how bizarre that is. Not only do they speak English, but there’s hardly been one moment when I didn’t understand what any of them was saying as if we grew up using exactly the same vocabulary.

Fox shakes his head. “To my ear, we’re speaking Thermian. The continent of Ellender is enchanted with universal language.”

Oh. Huh.

I’m bursting with questions, but I’ll probably have to ask Odessa about it if I want more details, since Fox might have an aneurism if he has to string three sentences together at once.

“What did you find?” Daemon asks, coming up behind me.

I jump, startled as much by his voice as the feel of his breath on the back of my neck. I wonder what language he’s really speaking. How do I sound to him? Am I as awkward as I always feel like I am, or is it smoothed out by the magical language filter?

I shiver, and hold up the book to show him. “It’s a first edition. Do you know how much this would go for back home?”

He stares at the book for a second, then looks up at the shopkeeper. “Can you wrap that up for her?”

“Oh…no, I didn’t mean,” I start to protest.

“Do you want it?”

“Well, yeah, but you don’t have to get it for me.” I feel a flush rising to my cheeks. I have no idea how the money works here, but I have to imagine this book is way more expensive than my yarn and that makes me feel a little weird.

Daemon reaches over my shoulder and takes the book out of my hand, passing it to the shopkeeper. “It’s your birthday, right? Think of it as a gift.”

I swallow but just nod. “Thank you.”

He looks like he wants to say something else but he doesn’t. He pays the shopkeeper, who looks pleased enough that I know it must have been a lot and leads me back outside into the village.

It’s somewhere around midnight and it’s started snowing lightly, so we all duck into a tavern for a drink. By the time we leave, it’s time to return to the estate for dinner and everyone is a little tipsy. Jett and Odessa are talking so loudly that their voices echo all down the street, and even Daemon looks a little less serious than usual—more like the guy I first met in Ironhill.

He seems to feel me looking and glances over at me, meeting my gaze head-on. My stomach does an excited flip and I promptly look down, focusing instead on the shopping bag in my hand. Looking at the bag doesn’t help one bit with the butterflies dancing in my stomach.

Dinner is served in the garden.

Beatrix claims that the formal dining room is too stuffy and the kitchen table isn’t big enough for all of us and we’ll be more comfortable outside. I’m certainly not complaining.

There are two long tables set up on the rose-covered patio, large enough to comfortably seat all six of us, plus Beatrix.

We carry plates of roast meat, vegetables and huge bottles of wine out to the table family style.

Daemon takes one end of the table and Beatrix takes the other, leaving us to all fill in the seats on the sides. I sit next to Daemon and across from Kastian. Poor Odessa sits next to Beatrix and I can hear her being scolded all the way down the table.

“Was it your idea to come here?” I ask Daemon.

He shakes his head, swallowing the bite in his mouth and washing it down with wine. “Dessa’s.”

“That was nice of her.” I try to catch her eye but can’t.

“We don’t really celebrate birthdays after the first few decades,” Kastian says. “It’s nice to have something to celebrate.”

I flush and glance over and tune into Fox and Jett having a loud argument—or rather, Jett is having an argument and Fox is nodding or shaking his head at the appropriate times. Odessa looks like she’s escaped her scolding and cuts in now and then, filling in Fox’s side of the argument with more colorful insults.

I take a large sip of wine.

This is…nice. It’s strange, but nice.

We finish eating and Odessa jumps up from the table, dashing inside to get something. She returns carrying an enormous pie. “I wanted to get you a cake,” she says. “But there wasn’t time. I hope you like snowberries.”

“I don’t know what those are.” I laugh. “But I’m sure they’re great. Thank you.”

She puts the pie down, and I glance around. “Don’t you guys sing?”

“Sing?” Daemon asks, sounding revolted.

“Yeah…like happy birthday?” I hum the first few notes of the song. They stare at me blankly, and I sigh. “I guess that’s a human thing.”

“If you want music, I’m sure we can get some,” Odessa says quickly.

“No, that's okay! I didn’t mean it like that, everything is great.”

But she’s already gone, dashing back inside.

I cut the pie into large slices and pass them down the table before cutting one for myself. Dessa was right, it’s amazing.

Speaking of which, she returns at that moment carrying a huge instrument, somewhere between a guitar and a banjo. I vaguely recall that one of the musicians at the inn had one.

“What is that?” I ask.

Jett holds his hand out. “I don’t know what you would call it, but we play them in Solistine. Give it to me.”

He takes the instrument and I’m surprised that he actually does know how to play. I was half expecting him to play Wonderwall , but I’m pleasantly surprised when he strums the strings a few times, before starting up a jaunty tune.

Odessa starts to clap along. “Ooh, let’s dance.”

“No,” Daemon says darkly at the same time as I’m nodding in excited agreement.

Maybe it’s the wine, but dancing sounds like the most fun I’ll ever have. I jump to my feet.

Daemon looks at me with an expression akin to being told he has to have a tooth pulled.

Across the table, Kastian stands and holds out a hand to me. “Shall we?”

I grin and put my fingers in his palm, letting him lead me in a circle around the table and then into some approximation of a swing dance.

“I have no idea how to do this,” I say. “I never took dance.”

“I wish I could say the same,” he replies, smoothly spinning me around. “I’ve spent more days in dance classes than you’ve probably been alive.”

“Why?”

He shrugs stiffly. “Just something my parents thought was necessary. Good thing too, because otherwise I’d look like that.” He jerks his head to the left.

I look to where he’s indicating and find that Odessa has somehow convinced Fox to dance with her, but neither of them seem to know how to do it so she’s just twirling around him in a circle while he stands there looking bemused.

“They look like they’re having fun,” I say. “Or, she does, I guess.”

He glances over again and watches Odessa spinning for a long second. I’m about to suggest he abandon me as a lost cause and ask her to dance, when Jett finishes his song and begins a slower one.

Kastian blinks a couple of times and seems to try and compensate for his inattention by spinning me into a low dip.

I stumble and flail my arms, losing my balance and feeling the sharp sting of fear in my chest. Before I can even process what is happening, strong arms wrap around me, steadying my fall.

I know Daemon is behind me before I look. He holds on to me for a moment, his steady heartbeat against my back, before gently guiding me back to my feet.

“That’s enough,” he says roughly.

He’s clearly speaking to Kastian, not to me, but I answer anyway. “Excuse you? It’s not your job to tell me when to be done.”

“I thought you didn’t want to dance,” Kastian says, sounding almost smug.

Daemon glowers at him before turning his back on his friend and holding out his hand to me.

I look stupidly at his palm, not entirely sure what’s going on before I finally snap out of it and place my hand in his.

My stomach swoops like I’m on a roller coaster when he pulls me closer and his other hand lands on my lower back. Unlike Kastian who was all sweeping bows and twirls, Daemon leads me firmly into the steps of something like a waltz. It feels different—not fancy, but somehow secure.

“I thought you didn’t know how to dance,” I say, desperate to fill the silence.

“I don’t like to dance, I didn’t say I didn’t know how,” he grumbles.

“If you don’t like it, then why cut in?”

He doesn’t answer me.

I tilt my head all the way back to catch his gaze and he looks down at me, our eyes locking. For a second, I forget anyone else is there—I lose track of the sound of Jett’s strumming and Odessa’s giggles, and just sway, letting him guide me.

My skin begins to heat. I feel tingles in the places where our skin touches, and I can’t help but think of how it felt before, when so much more than our palms were touching. How he kissed me, and how he’s seemed much more relaxed any time we’re alone.

I like this. I like him.

Just as that thought crosses my mind, he drops my hand abruptly and steps back.

“What’s wrong?”

He stares at me, then without a word, turns on his heel and marches back toward the house.

I blink in surprise, and it seems like the volume has been turned back up in the garden. I can hear the music again and the talk and laughter from around the table. I stared dazedly at Daemon’s retreating back.

“Uh, I’ll be right back,” I stammer, only to look around and realize no one is paying attention to me. They’re all drinking, chattering to each other as if Daemon and I aren’t even there.

I dash after him.

It takes me a long few seconds to find Daemon.

As usual in Vernallis, it’s dark and I’m not familiar enough with the manner or the yard beyond to know exactly where he went. I dash through the garden and back through the doors into the kitchen, turning in every direction. The kitchen is dark and quiet, but somehow the air hums with awareness. I know he just came through here.

“Daemon!” I call.

There’s no reply. But again, I can almost feel his presence. I can picture in the back of my mind, like I’m remembering a scene out of a movie. Storming through the garden and through the kitchen, angrily throwing a door open and marching down the hall. Then, stopping short at the sound of my voice…

Acting on instinct—and perhaps insanity—I fling open the door and dart down the unfamiliar hallway. I turn the corner and skid to a halt. “Daemon?”

At the end of the hall, Daemon stands frozen with his back to me. “You shouldn’t be here, Alix. Go back outside.”

“I’m sorry,” I blurt out automatically, even though I don’t have any idea what I’m supposed to be sorry for.

He doesn't bother turning to meet my gaze, but his posture stiffens and his hands clench into tight fists at his sides. “Stop apologizing. You didn’t fucking do anything.”

“Okay…then why did you leave?”

He doesn’t answer, but instead makes a low sound in the back of his throat almost like a growl. I suck in a sharp breath as I’m suddenly viscerally reminded of what he said last night: We’re not human, no matter how much we might appear to be.

I should probably take his warning and go back outside with the others, but I can’t.

I move closer, and with each step, my heart beats faster and my palms turn sweaty. I’m full of nerves and trembling with the sort of terrified excitement that sinks in my belly at the top of a roller coaster.

I stretch my fingers out and brush the back of his arm, so lightly it’s barely a touch at all. Still, he whirls on me like I slapped him. His eyes are blazing green fire and almost seem to glow in the low lighting. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?” I ask, even though I’m fairly sure I already know the answer.

“I can’t—I’m not allowed to touch you.”

“You’re not touching me…” I steel myself—pushing back the embarrassment of being vulnerable long enough to voice what I want. “…unless you mean that you want to.”

Daemon doesn’t move. He barely breathes. Then, I see the exact moment his resolve breaks.

His hand whips out and his fingers wrap around the back of my neck, hauling me toward him at the same time as he steps forward, crowding me against the wall. My back hits hard stone, but I hardly notice as his free palm slams flat into the wall beside my ear. Then, before I can even take a breath, his mouth crashes down on mine.

Holy fuck.

A whimper escapes me as my eyes flutter closed and I instinctively open my mouth against the onslaught of his lips. His tongue sweeps over my lips and into my mouth and I respond in kind—exploring, tasting. His hand travels up my neck and into my hair where he wraps my entire long ponytail around his fist.

We’ve kissed before, but not like this. Not this desperate, needy, starving. My heart is pounding in my ears and then my pulse drops lower, throbbing between my legs.

I press closer, standing up on my tiptoes to try and bring our faces even closer together. I drag my body against his, my hardened nipples tingling as they scrape against his chest. He groans into my mouth, pressing his cock more firmly against me.

I moan and dig my fingernails into his shoulders, trying to pull him closer.

I didn’t know kissing could feel like this—not like an obligation as a prelude to sex, but so intense I think it might leave me permanently burned from the inside out.

There’s something here between us—I know there is. Something that goes beyond just physical attraction. It’s small and unsteady, flickering in and out like the flame of a new candle, but it’s there. It’s not just me.

The sound of cracking air, like a flag in the wind has me opening my eyes again, even as I tilt my head to deepen the kiss.

“Wings…” I murmur against his lips, apparently unable to form an entire sentence.

He blinks and pulls back from me by a few inches looking dazed. His mouth starts to form a word, but he stops, seemingly also realizing in that moment that his enormous red and black wings have reappeared, taking up the majority of the hallway and cocooning us against the wall.

I stare open-mouthed at the gleaming iridescent feathers, my already thundering heartbeat strumming even faster.

I’ve seen the wings before, but never so close and never when I wasn’t sure I was about to die. They’re remarkable—nothing like the faerie wings in stories, but exactly as I would have pictured a fallen angel. I wonder if this is where ancient painters and scholars got the idea. Did they see the Fae, with their too beautiful faces and magnificent bird’s wings, and assume they were divine?

Without thinking, I reach out a hand to touch the nearest feathers, stroking them like I might run my fingers through someone’s hair. “Incredible.”

He shivers. “Sorry, Peaches. I can’t ever seem to hold on to control around you.”

“No…” I mutter softly, my face flaming. “Don’t be sorry. I like it.”

I like you.

“Alix!” Odessa’s slightly shrill voice rings through the quiet house. “Al—I mean, Isabelle! Are you in here?” There’s a loud creaking as a door opens and we both turn to see Odessa standing in the doorway at the other end of the hall. Her eyes widen and she jumps back in surprise. “Oh! Shit, sorry.”

I shimmy under Daemon’s arm and move away from the wall, my pulse still pounding. “Hey. What’s up?”

Her eyes dart back and forth between us and I can’t read her expression at all. Finally, she says, “We need to leave if we’re going to make it back to the palace before it’s light out.”

“Sure,” Daemon says flatly, his tone almost bored. “Tell the guys to get the horses ready, we’ll be right there.”

She bites her lip, looking like she wants to say something, but then just nods. “Okay.”

She lets the door close behind her with a heavy click. I let out a breath and glance back at Daemon.

The wings are gone.