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“You loved it,” she says. “I can hear it in your voice.”

“The feeling was overwhelming, all those bits of green life calling to my magic. I never wanted to leave.” I take a drink of wine. “But growing food wasn’t an appropriate use of time for a warrior prince. I had sword work and battle magic to learn.”

Her big brown eyes meet mine. There’s that sympathy again, doing strange things to my chest. “Were you able to go back to the greenhouses at all?”

“Not often, though I snuck away when I could.” My lips twitch. “The farmers never told on me, because I healed the plants and made their crops better.”

“I can just picture you.” She grins. “Little Severin, sneaking out of the house to go visit tomatoes.”

“It was the pea plants, actually. I liked the way the vines were like my shadows.”

A tap on the glass jerks our attention to the window. A group of people stand on the sidewalk, watching us with wide grins. Hannah smiles back, and I make a point of reaching for her hand and gazing at her as if she has my full attention.

“What are you doing?” she whispers from the corner of her mouth, trying not to move her lips. Her fingers tremble under mine.

“I’m staring at the woman I adore.” I pull her hand to me and kiss her knuckles .

That overly candid face of hers looks shocked instead of happy. This will not do. My tongue flicks out, sliding into the crease between her fingers. Hannah sucks in a startled breath, a touch of heat enters her eyes, and her cheeks turn pink. Yes, that’s much better.

The people outside laugh and elbow each other before giving one last wave and ambling down the sidewalk.

“What was that?” she hisses.

“My tongue.”

“I know it was your tongue!” She tugs at her hand, but I don’t let it go. “Why was it on me ?”

“To aid your acting, of course.” I brush my thumb over the damp spot. “Should I do it again? You don’t exactly look enamored of me at the present.” I flick my eyes toward the rest of the restaurant.

Her gaze darts around the room. “Oh, god,” she moans. “They’re all watching us.”

“Of course they are,” I say. “My engagement is the talk of Faerie, so all the fae are watching us. And you’re the mayor, so all the humans are watching us as well.”

I stroke her skin again, and her eyes snap back to mine. Her cheeks flush, and she offers me an over-bright smile.

We’re saved from further awkwardness when a troupe of pixies flies in between us, making us jerk apart. Six of them ring the edge of a circular platter. Once they set it on the table, they throw up their tiny arms and cry, “Pizza!”

All the other pixies in the café repeat the refrain, making Hannah laugh.

The pizza is hot and cheesy, with the flavors elevated by the spiced meat. The bread base is satisfyingly yeasty, fluffy, and light. It’s surprisingly good. If they’ve found a brownie to help them, I wonder how much it would take to bribe them away for my own kitchens.

Hannah takes a bite and smiles with pleasure. “This is perfect. Thank you.”

“It’s nothing less than you deserve.”

She blushes and tries to look away, but I clasp her hand and pull her attention back to me. “Take pride in your success.”

“Is that how you do it as king?”

“Of course. One must always remind one’s people of one’s accomplishments.” My lips curl. “You could even declare a holiday, with heralds and trumpets. ‘Mayor Wylde Pizza Day.’”

Her laughter rings in the air, the joyful sound utterly bewitching. I’ve never made anyone laugh before. The feeling is heady. I want to drink her down, pull all her happiness into myself and luxuriate in it.

“Now, have we answered enough of your questions?” I ask. “Tell me about your day.”

“Oh! I meant to tell you. One of the non-magical townspeople sees the tulips as a gang of toddlers running wild.” Hannah grins. “She’s horrified that they don’t have a babysitter.”

“I’ll have the spell altered,” I promise. “We can make them look like cats instead. Cats won’t cause you any problems, will they?”

“Oh, I’m sure someone will complain.” She laughs again and shakes her head, but good naturedly. “That’s the nature of small towns. But it’ll be a lot easier to deal with than worries about unsupervised children.”

We continue to eat and chat, and I make sure to divert her from any talk of the trials or her magic. All of today’s lecturing gave me a new idea. This evening, I want her to relax so she can approach her magic as something delightful to be discovered instead of an onerous chore.

Hannah takes a bite and lets out one of those breathy little moans she made when I kissed her.

The sound goes straight to my cock, replacing one hunger with a more primal need. The desire to touch her overwhelms me, and my shadows slip from my legs, sliding over the floor to coil around her calves.

The pizza and wine disappear, and when Blue asks if we want dessert, we share a glance.

“Not tonight,” I say, pulling Hannah from her chair. It’s time to test my theory. When the pixie chases after me, sputtering about payment, I tell her to present the bill to my person at the bank in the morning.

The second we step outside, I wrap my betrothed in my arms and leap for the sky.

Hannah’s excited gasp echoes through me, and I love the way she clings to my shoulders, her fingers digging under the edges of my waistcoat. Her hair teases across my cheeks, filling my nose with the scent of her, heady and sweet.

My wings slice the air in fast beats, my magic propelling us forward, shadows reaching out to support her legs. The lights of town soon disappear from below as I fly toward the waterfall.

I set down softly, my feet sinking into the moss-covered ground. Instead of letting Hannah go, I spin her around until her back’s pressed to my front. Out of all the lectures I endured today, something the dragon said early on is what stuck with me: Magic isn’t something we do. It’s who we are.

Everything we’ve tried up until now has been to try to get her to “do” magic. Instead, I want her to connect to the magic already inside of her.

Leaning over, I growl in Hannah’s ear. “Feel this. Feel me .”