Page 12

Unhidden Adversaries

T orture . That was what Maewyn was doing to Roan, and she wouldn’t even acknowledge it!

Over the next two days, he agonized in her presence.

It wasn’t really anything to do with her , of course, not the sounds she made in the back of her throat when she read a particularly interesting passage, not the way she held her cider cup in both hands, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath before every sip, and definitely not how she peeked over his shoulder, curls brushing his cheek as she chastised him about not doing something valuable with his time. It was just the damn tether.

Could he have roamed the gardens? Sparred with Aunyx?

Wallowed in his bedroom alone for once? Yes, probably, but then she would complain, and as much as he would have liked a little more begging out of her, he also knew the outcome—he would end up right here in the library staring at her over the edge of a book again because the tether demanded they be as close as possible.

Well, there was closer still that they could get, but the risk was far greater.

At least the constant barrage of wedding planners interrupted Roan’s most ravenous thoughts. And Maewyn was at least correct about one thing: helping… helped . So, he read. And read. And read .

He’d taken to sighing too, and since that got Maewyn’s attention, he experimented with a few differing sounds until she finally snapped at him, “What?”

Roan had floundered but only for a moment, reporting to her the last bit of knowledge he’d picked up from his reading: humans in the fae realm could draw on magic by manipulating words in just the right way.

It was useless information, he thought, until her foxlike eyes lit up as if she’d spotted a tasty vole.

Oh, to be a tasty vole. Gods, this tether!

The next morning, when an invitation came from Ulric, one of his oldest friends, Roan could have cried. “There is to be a celebration in our honor tonight!” he exclaimed and thrust the enchanted maple leaf in Maewyn’s face.

She delicately touched his hand to move it away, and he fought a shiver. “Won’t this take us away from our—er, my work?”

“Only for a day.” And one less day of pining in the library would be a gift.

His father insisted he bring a retinue of certain attentive fae, and so Roan matched the number with his own rambunctious courtiers—and Aunyx, of course—but an eingress would not allow so many to pass through, and so they set off by carriage immediately.

Roan had not thought about what it meant to sit across from Maewyn during the afternoon-long ride through Tenhaef’s forests without a book between them, but to her it apparently meant suspicion.

“This is a ruse,” he finally admitted in the privacy of the coach when he could no longer take the leery look in her eyes. “Ulric has been pivotal in helping me realize my potential, and now that the wedding looms so close, he is likely confused and simply wants to help.”

Maewyn chewed on her lip. “Help? You trust him?”

“Implicitly. His manor is the sanctuary to which I’ll flee once you break my heart and leave, after all.” Roan felt his grin falter and quickly looked away from her. “And any excuse for a party—we both love parties.”

“I’m sure you do,” she said with no approval. “Well, I hope this is worth it. I’d just discovered a recipe for a potion made with eldermoss and something called sinoveet said to dissolve bonds.”

Roan frowned deeply. “Sinoveet renders one impotent, so I don’t think that’s an actual option, sorry to say.”

Maewyn growled, but the corner of her mouth ticked, and soon they were both snickering in the carriage.

Ulric’s manor was tucked into a valley deep within the autumn wood, its exterior always crumbling.

“It’s an illusion,” Roan told Maewyn when he saw she had once again fallen into wariness.

“The two of you have vigilance in common it would seem. He keeps up the crumbling facade to hide from his enemies.”

“You’re not concerned about these enemies?”

Roan shrugged. “If the illusion works, why would I be?”

Once they stepped inside and the manor’s entry revealed its polished obsidian floors and garnet-encrusted columns, Maewyn took on that wondrous look again, the one Roan had come to enjoy when introducing her to magic.

Then the studious bend to her brow shadowed her features, and he was even more pleased.

Perhaps she would learn something here and save them all—though…

though he would prefer she have a little fun first.

“Ulric the Ancient!” Roan called when their host met them in the grand entry.

Ulric, of course, did not look ancient, but he didn’t appear to have aged a day since their first meeting when Roan was just in his ninth year.

Some fae were skilled at maintaining their beauty long into their old age, and Roan suspected the secret to his magic was what made him hide away despite his penchant for celebrations.

“Prince Roan of the Autumn Court, it is my pleasure and great honor to welcome you and yours to my humble home.” Ulric dropped to a bent knee, ever overindulgent with respect.

He held out a hand for Maewyn’s and then pulled her knuckles to his lips.

“And you, Lady of the Harvest Way, my home is yours as it is His Highness’s.

I offer to his mate all that I would him, both as a loyal servant and as a friend. ”

Maewyn returned his polite smile, but Roan sensed a discomfort in her that he wanted to peck at and chase away.

Ulric was often flowery and old-fashioned with his words, but calling her Roan’s mate was likely squirm-inspiring.

Roan pushed down his displeasure at that and cleared his throat. “There will be drinks, I assume?”

Ulric’s wolfish grin returned. “And a chamber already prepared for the exhaustion you will collapse into at the night’s end.”

“Excellent.” Roan would need several drinks to really enjoy the night and perhaps several more if he would convince Maewyn to enjoy it as well.

The manor was abuzz with fae in the final moments of preparation, so Ulric ushered Roan into private quarters. Maewyn was offered her own elsewhere, but Roan could see the flash of apprehension on her features and insisted she stay with them. “She is in on it,” he said when the three were alone.

Ulric’s steely blue eyes flicked between the two. “She understands the need for her…departure?”

“And my grander plans, yes. She is eager to go home.”

“And she’s standing right here.” Maewyn crossed arms beneath her breasts in a delightful show of haughty indignation.

“Apologies,” Ulric said with a deep bow. “It is only that most creatures would not give up an opportunity to take the Autumn Throne. Forgive my doubts concerning your altruism.”

Maewyn loosened her limbs, and Roan was more than a little sad to see the valley between her breasts disappear while her discomfort remained.

“My companion has been working tirelessly to resolve our issues,” he said, stressing the compliment. “But we’ve a small hitch. The two of us were mistakenly tethered.”

Ulric’s face twisted into abject shock, and Roan was surprised himself to see it.

“We were hoping you could help us sever it,” Maewyn ventured quietly.

Ulric turned and paced the chamber, his long strides filling up the empty room.

Doubt at the wise fae’s assistance crept into Roan’s belly, and he had the brief but strong urge to reach out for Maewyn’s hand until Ulric spoke again.

“I can do this, but it will only be possible after the archfae is born.”

Roan wished he could see into Maewyn’s mind, to see the wheels turning as her face changed many times.

There was a struggle there, and she licked her lips when she could no longer keep herself from speaking.

“The only way for me to leave…is to stay?” A lump traveled down her throat.

“I would have to marry Roan and watch him have a child with someone else.”

Roan should have thought that this was a brilliantly clever idea—a human bride who was complicit, who would be his co-conspirator and the most convincing facade while he pursued his machinations—but cleverness was the last thing on his mind.

“You do not have to, Maewyn.” He was sure he had heard a pained tinge to her words, and if it was because of the time she would lose in her home realm, the fear she had of deceiving the court, or for unspoken sentimental reasons, he did not wish her to suffer any of it.

“This is just one of the solutions that Ulric can offer us.”

Maewyn nodded then shook her head, clearly confused.

Ulric made a small, dubious sound, and so Roan cut in before he could say anything more disheartening. “We aren’t out of our own options either. Your research has already proved invaluable.”

Maewyn only shrugged, eyes on the floor and fingers worrying her skirt.

Well, the hours Roan had spent in her presence had been invaluable to him, at least.

“Come, let’s not think on it too much. Tonight is meant to be a respite from all that! The wedding isn’t for, what, four more days?”

Maewyn groaned, much less satisfied with the number, but Ulric was quick to match Roan’s vigor, advising that he would leave them to refresh themselves and change out of their travel attire.

Maewyn had argued against the contingency of fae Roan brought along to dress and primp her, but their minor argument was worth it when she presented herself after their work.

Even the flush on her cheeks that bloomed all the way down her chest couldn’t cloud her brilliance.

The dress he had picked out painted a heart over her breasts, silken red material that clung to her middle and wrapped about the curve of her hips with a spray of embroidered acorns trailing downward into a full skirt.