Page 22

Severin

I spend the entirety of the next day with the dragon, constantly infuriated by his arrogance.

Yes, he’s a renowned scholar. Yes, he’s the foremost fae expert on human magic. Yes, dragons are the only other magic users who can rival the shadow fae in raw power.

I’m still a king.

When Lukendevener tells me not to be foolish for the third time, my shadows spool outward. I barely yank them back before strangling him.

As satisfying as it would be—and it would be very fucking satisfying—throttling him won’t get me what I want.

“It’s not as if you’re the pinnacle of efficiency,” I snark back, waving a hand to take in his library.

“You can barely find anything.” Wisteria trees surround the central area, framed by ornate windows.

Long hallways lead off of both sides, each of them branching into smaller corridors that wind on for miles.

The whole thing is far larger than the building that contains it, but this castle is a piece of Faerie and therefore bound by the laws of magic, which are quite flexible, indeed.

“I am unfamiliar with this library.” He scowls. “It was lost to my family for the past three-hundred years. I only regained access when the doors of Faerie reopened.”

“That’s not my problem,” I snarl, chopping a hand through the air.

“I paid dearly for your services, and I expect to receive my due.” I inserted Lukendevener’s castle into the fabric of Earth in the same way I did with my palace.

It was his price for helping me with this endeavor.

Why he wants to be on Earth, I don’t know or care.

But want it he does, so it gives me leverage over him.

“Your castle is only anchored here by my agreement with Hannah. If you do not aid me in securing a permanent arrangement, you will be forced to leave.”

He sneers, but instead of arguing, he stomps off into the labyrinth that is his library, searching for answers.

I practice patience for what feels like absolute ages, but when I check the time, it’s only been five minutes. I try again, only making it for three minutes this time.

“You have got to be kidding me.” I scowl at the timepiece, which, being inanimate, doesn’t cower in any kind of gratifying way. Warrior kings never have to wait—warrior kings get immediate results or else.

Fuck. This is one of those times when I dearly miss such raw power.

The dragon finds me various bits and bobs, and when I bring Hannah to my palace that evening, there’s a wealth of magical implements spread across the library table.

We start with the wands. When Hannah has no success on her own, I stand close behind her, my hand wrapped over hers, and we try them all again. The only reaction she’s able to bring about is magic of a more primal sort: my raging erection, which I fight to ignore.

We spend several exhausting hours trying the rest of the paraphernalia, one item after the other, to no avail. By the time I fly her home for the night, she’s drooping in my arms, and not even her usual joy of flying can keep her eyes open.

This will not do. This will not do at all.

I storm into his castle the next morning, demanding lessons in magical theory instead of useless props, and the day passes in a blur of lectures.

It turns out I utterly despise being lectured to.

But I grit my teeth and bear through it. I refuse to lose access to Earth and its forests. And I never want to see that defeated look on Hannah’s face again.

By the time I pick her up at her cottage that evening, I have a new approach in mind.

After a quick flight into town, I land in the middle of the green and escort Hannah in a slow amble down Main Street, her hand tucked into my elbow .

“Where are we going?”

“We’re having dinner together. I hear courting human couples do this all the time,” I say. “Now close your eyes.” Shadows slip from the arm she holds to make a blindfold.

Her fingers brush over them, sending a shiver of sensation racing through me. “I closed my eyes.”

“Yes, but this means nothing will spoil the surprise.”

I lead her closer to Slice of Life, and the pixie on lookout rises into the air with a flutter of excited wings before diving through the front door. A flurry of whisper-yells comes from inside the restaurant, but Hannah doesn’t make any indication that she can hear them.

By the time we reach the door, all is quiet with anticipation. I guide her inside, then drop the shadow blindfold.

“Surprise!” Pixies and people yell from all across the room.

Hannah’s mouth falls open, her eyes widening with delight. She clutches at my arm as if staggered. “Severin, what is this?”

“It’s Ferndale Falls’s newest restaurant, now open for business.

” Shadow fae already fill many of the wooden tables, eating flat, triangular pieces of bread covered in a variety of toppings.

In the lower light of evening, the deep-yellow walls glow with all the warmth of the setting sun.

The pixies have painted a reoccurring motif of ferns and fiddleheads along the bottom of the walls, and if you look closely, little faces peek out, some animal, some various forms of tiny fae.

Although nothing like the grand palace I grew up in, the rustic hominess has its own charm .

“Welcome to Slice of Life.” Blue flies forward to hover in front of us. “Right this way. We’ve saved you the best seats in the house.”

She leads us to the table centered right in front of the pizzeria’s wide window, where we can look out over the green, and any passersby can look in and see us on our date. “Choose your toppings, and I will have your pizza in the oven in no time.”

I glance at the menu and set it aside, gesturing to Hannah. “Since I’m unfamiliar with this type of food, you pick.”

“Pepperoni and extra cheese,” she says without thought. Then she gives me a wry smile. “It’s kind of basic.”

“No, it’s a classic!” Blue zooms to the kitchen, and four pixies fly an uncorked bottle of red wine to our table.

I pour for the two of us, then lift my glass. As soon as Hannah raises hers, I say, “Here’s to the first of many successful endeavors for Ferndale Falls.”

“To Ferndale Falls.” She clinks her glass to mine and takes a sip, her eyes widening. “Oh, this is good.”

“It should be,” I say. “It’s one of the finest from my cellars.” I roll the wine over my tongue, enjoying its full-bodied fruitiness that ends with the dry finish of lingering smoke.

As daylight fades, the pixies light candles, bringing one to our table.

“So, Severin.” Tiny flames dance in Hannah’s eyes as she smiles at me. She pulls out her phone and taps at the screen. “I found a bunch of first-date questions and thought we could use them to get to know one another. ”

How appropriate, since this is indeed the first date I’ve ever been on. I ask, “What sorts of questions?”

She leans forward and whispers, “Most of this is stuff we should know if we want to convince people we’re actually engaged.”

“We are actually engaged. It’s simply a mutually beneficial arrangement instead of an emotional one.”

“Yeah, but people expect it to be emotional, which you already know, or you wouldn’t keep kissing me in front of everyone.” Her cheeks turn red, and she picks up her wine and takes a drink to try to cover her embarrassment.

Interesting. It seems my enchanting little witch likes my kisses.

“Very well.” I tip my head. “Ask your questions.”

She starts simply, asking about colors and food. I answer green and brownie bread, while hers are pink and cinnamon rolls. Easy enough.

Then she says, “What’s your favorite season?”

“I—” My words stumble to a halt, the facile lie freezing on my tongue. If these are things we need to know about one another for our cover story, I should be honest. “I don’t know.”

Her eyes widen. “How can you not know?”

“Avalon was cloaked in shadows until a couple of months ago. I’ve never experienced real seasons.” I shrug and sip my wine to give my hands something to do. “Ask me again after I’ve spent a year on Earth.”

The compassion and sympathy in her eyes makes me feel unsettled. No one’s ever looked at me in this way. I like that she feels kindly toward me. Yet I also don’t want to think of myself as someone deserving of sympathy. It feels too much like weakness.

To divert her attention, I ask, “How about you?”

“I love summer, like it is now.” She gestures toward the window and the view of the green. “The days are long, and it’s warm enough to swim in the pond by the waterfall. The kids are out of school and spend their days playing.”

It’s telling that she includes the happiness of others in her choice for herself. I’ve never known anyone with such a generous spirit.

“Next question. What’s your favorite childhood memory?

” My betrothed glances up at me with an eager grin, but when she sees my blank expression, she quickly says, “Why don’t I go first?

It’s actually kind of hard to pick, but it’s probably the My Little Pony party I had for my eighth birthday.

All of my friends were there, and my grandmother and mother went all out.

We had costumes and decorations and the prettiest cake.

Nan got someone to make one in the shape of a pony and iced it in all pink, just like my favorite character.

” Tender emotion tinged with a touch of sadness fills her voice.

“You loved her,” I say.

“She was my favorite person in the world.”

“I’m glad you had that.” It’s not a lie. Such a happy childhood created the joyful and open woman Hannah is today.

“What about you?” She sounds hesitant, her fingers twirling the stem of her wine glass.

“I didn’t have a childhood like yours. My parents were usually away, fighting for the Dark God, and I had my studies.

” Then I think of something I can share.

“But I do remember visiting the greenhouses, which are enspelled with magical suns so we can grow food in Avalon. It was the first time I got to see so many plants in one place.”