Page 22

Bountiful Gifts

“ O h, human friend, are you here?”

Maewyn lifted her gaze with great effort.

She hadn’t gone to dinner nor returned to Roan’s chamber after their…

discussion , though the faint twittering in the library tree suggested morning had arrived.

Notably, he had not come to fetch her either, but multiple trays of food had been delivered to the library as well as a heap of pillows, blankets, and finally Roan’s own bed.

She allowed the things to pile up but didn’t use them out of principle.

Her back protested that she was stupid, and in her weariness she was hard pressed to agree.

Jynquil peeked in through the cracked door and called for her again, but when her bright eyes landed on Maewyn, she burst in like a beam of sunshine through a viciously torn back curtain.

Utterly stunning in layers of buttery yellow gauze, a train of lavender hydrangeas flowed behind her.

Her skirt was markedly short in front, bare legs and feet hustling, a wreath of twigs held in both hands.

Aunyx stood at the entry, holding open the door for her dress as it took its time trailing inside. He frowned down at the petals left, shadows around him darkening, and then shut the two of them in and himself out.

“I’ve brought you a gift!” Shoots of new maroon leaves sprouted up as she skipped over the uneven, root-bound floor. “I was told this is where I would find you, and—oh! Are you ill?” She stopped her sprint abruptly only a few paces away.

Maewyn pushed back her loose curls, but it did nothing for the sleep she knew lined her face. There were probably other lines too, likely the imprint of bark from when she’d fallen asleep against the book pedestal. “I’m fine,” she lied and stood, body stiff.

Jynquil’s button nose bounced like a rabbit’s, dubious. “Well, maybe my presents will help. Here!” She thrust her hands forward and revealed three eggs within the wreath of twigs she carried.

Oh, gods, was Maewyn being gifted a—er, multiple pets? “You shouldn’t have.”

Excitement flickered around the fae princess as palpable as the butterflies that followed her everywhere. “Well, I sort of didn’t actually, it wasn’t even my idea, but you can consider them a wedding present, I guess. Go on, open them!”

The fae was nodding eagerly, but as far as Maewyn knew, eggs opened themselves when the time was right.

She hesitated a moment too long, so Jynquil swiftly plucked one up and knocked the shell against the book pedestal.

Instead of a wet, disoriented creature flopping out, the most beautiful scarlet rose unfurled on the open pages.

“Oh, it’s stunning ,” Maewyn breathed, lifting the delicate bloom.

“Just be careful. I made these things while I was practicing my priestess spells. That’s heavily laden with pollen that will either make you sneeze uncontrollably or temporarily blind you.”

Maewyn chuckled uneasily. “Thank you?” Assured there would probably be no baby animal slumbering in the others, she cracked the next egg, and a long, woven cord unfurled from inside, crimson glass beads hanging off of it.

“Again, careful,” Jynquil cautioned, holding up the cord. “This is a belt, and these pomegranate seeds are enchanted to be irresistible once one bursts, but after consuming them, you’ll fall into a deep slumber. And if you’re wearing it, the juice will ruin your dress.”

Maewyn made a noise she hoped sounded grateful and cracked the third and last egg. A thin gold chain fell out, a small locket dangling from it.

“Now, this is really special!” Jynquil’s eyes sparkled as she held up the necklace. “The locket can carry anything within regardless of size or composition, so you can stuff it endlessly with poison or weapons or…or good things too, like sweets!”

Maewyn looked on the three fae gifts. “These are…unique. Especially for a wedding.”

“Well, I originally intended to use them to make you hate the fae realm and chase you away, but once Roan explained that you wanted to leave, I didn’t really have a use for them. Now, when you’re back home, you’ll have something to remember us by.”

Though Jynquil looked quite pleased with herself, she fidgeted, bouncing on the balls of her feet. Maewyn tried to make a grateful show of it, but the thought of returning home struck many bands of fear within her.

“Uh oh, something’s gone wrong, hasn’t it? Ulric said there was another way, but…”

Maewyn blinked—so, Ulric had finally arrived for the wedding. “But?”

Jynquil scrunched up her nose. “No one told me the alternative plan, but I can only assume it’s not good.”

No, the alternative was not good. It meant entering into a sham of a marriage with a man she was beginning to…

well, no, it wasn’t a beginning, it was barely still in its middle, in fact.

Maewyn desired Roan from her deepest depths, possibly even loved him, and that was a culmination.

Ulric’s proposed arrangement was certainly not good at all, especially when the plan involved hurting so many others, Jynquil included, and put Roan in so much potential danger.

Maewyn swallowed, taking a breath. “Jynquil, I’m sorry that all of this has come between you and Roan.”

The fae’s face twisted like she smelled something foul. “Oh, don’t be. We’ve been begrudging friends since his mother came to live at my court. There is nothing to come between.”

Maewyn’s gaze darted to the door, double checking that Aunyx really had left the two of them alone. “You’re not really in love with the prince, are you?”

She made a significantly less than royal sound. “No! Not at all! I just want revenge on my father for making me second best to my brother, Jaspyr.”

“I see. And this is the right way to get your revenge?”

She shrugged. “I didn’t think so at first, but I needed help from someone outside of the Spring Court regardless of what I was going to do, and Roan was adamant about this whole archfae thing.”

“He was?”

“Yes, but can I tell you a secret?” She leaned in like they weren’t all alone in the library.

“It’s not really his idea, I know, because Ulric came to me first and suggested the whole thing seasons ago.

He just told me to keep our conversation quiet and let Roan think he came up with the whole thing.

” She snickered behind her hands. “You know how the prince is, always needing everyone to think he’s so clever! ”

Maewyn’s stomach flipped over. “So, the two of you sneaking off and conceiving the archfae is all Ulric’s idea?”

“ Conceiving ”—she stuck out her tongue but then squinted upward—“well, now that you mention it…yes?”

The leafy decomposing fear and suspicion that had been littering Maewyn’s mind finally produced a spore, and she nearly shook the fae before her. Why couldn’t the princess see all of the manipulation and danger when things were so clear?

“I can’t say anything to Roan, though, which is so very annoying, especially when he has second thoughts!

” Jynquil waved her dainty hands through the air, missing her butterflies by a stem’s width.

She tittered as if she were discussing the most minor disturbance and not potentially dragging the realm down into ruin.

“Because the truth is, I’ve had second thoughts too, but I can’t very well go through with actually becoming a priestess which is what I’ll probably have to do otherwise. ”

“You don’t want to do any of this either?”

Jynquil opened her mouth, but before another long tendril of words fell out, she stopped herself. A butterfly landed itself on her nose, and for a long moment she didn’t even seem to notice. “Don’t I?”

Maewyn waved a hand, shooing away the fluttering bug, and that seemed to fix the fae.

“Oh!” she squealed, reeling backward and laughing.

“Well, I do hope you feel hale enough for the pre-wedding celebration tonight. There’s supposed to be lots of dancing, and since priestesses-in-training don’t have to worry with all that marriage prospect propriety nonsense, I can pick any partner I like, and I’ve got my eye on someone, but I fear there won’t be any celebration if you’re too ill to go! ”

“Another party?” Maewyn almost rolled her eyes but then inhaled sharply as an idea struck her like a falling acorn. “Actually, do you think you could help me get ready for that?”

Jynquil’s eyes lit up with a hundred dawns. “Oh, yes , I most certainly could!”

Maewyn nodded tightly and smiled, though nerves bashed themselves up against her innards as if she’d swallowed the fae princess’s most aggressive butterflies.

Her words would have to be delicate with the woman, and her plan foolproof, but she had meant it when she said she would not stand by and watch the realm fall into ruin, nor would she let Roan be hurt no matter how much of an idiot he had been and for so long.

Roan was angry—angry with the words that had been so poorly exchanged, angry with the elderly fae who had concocted the damned laws he now had to live by, and perhaps angriest with whomever had built his bed since Maewyn had chosen to keep it instead of returning to his chamber the night before.

Never mind how uncomfortable it was to lie on the marble floor where the bed had been—how in the realm was she to expect him to sleep at all without her body beside his?

It only occurred to him that he should have just gone to the library himself after Jynquil came looking for the human the next morning.

Unsure he would be articulate enough with so much ire still rumbling inside him, he did the next best thing and called for a celebration to be thrown that night.

The Lady of the Harvest Way would simply have to attend a party in her honor , and perhaps by then Roan would think of the right things to say.

“You are not looking as chipper as I would expect.” Ulric walked at his side as he trudged the palace grounds. “You worry too much, Prince. Your plan is impeccable.”

Yes, it was originally, and that may well have been the problem—Roan had been pecking at it. “I slept poorly,” he mumbled.

“Your bride-to-be kept you up?” The fae’s dark brow ticked as the two wove through where gourds had grown, only vines left behind. “Is that why she is not hanging off your elbow now with eternal yearning in her eyes? She’s recovering?”

Roan knew it was meant to only be in jest, but he felt the intense urge to convince Ulric then that he and Maewyn hadn’t so much as traded lusty glances. “She’s composing her vows,” he said miserably, a lie he would have liked to believe.

Ulric made an overly intrigued noise. “Ah, so you’ve decided to go through with things?”

“You are here for the wedding, after all.” Roan eyed him. Ulric had told him many times before Maewyn had ever arrived that marriage to anyone, and tethering especially, would be a terrible idea, though he had never really said why. “Unless you did not come here expecting that?”

“You should go through with this wedding,” said his friend, comfortingly confident.

Roan grinned—what he would have given just to be told what to do days earlier, to just marry Maewyn, just live with this tether, embrace it, embrace her .

Of course, that was the answer! If only Maewyn had been there to hear Ulric say that he wanted what was best for them both, and then she would understand.

“I’m sure she will be very entertaining while you wait for the archfae to be born.”

Roan’s smile wavered as Ulric gazed out at the harvested orchard.

“Humans make the best playthings,” the fae said, wolfish grin widening. “They’re quite complex when it comes to enchanting them, but the struggle is half the fun.”

“I don’t think she would like that much.” Roan swallowed, not recognizing the meekness in his own voice. He didn’t use enchantments, not like that, not on other living beings, and never on Maewyn.

“Well, that hardly matters,” Ulric laughed. “You are the prince of the Autumn Court—you should be getting exactly as you wish, and it’s increasingly clear that what you wish for, inexplicably, is her. Why should she be an obstacle? Just keep her until you tire of her.”

“But we’re tethered…”

Ulric shrugged in that wise way of his and clapped Roan on the shoulder. “Tethers break with death.”