Page 35

Severin

Hannah’s a vision of loveliness, the graceful layers of the Faerie silk dress swirling around her and offering teasing glimpses of skin. The rich brown of her glossy hair tempts me to touch, and a shadow sneaks up for a quick caress.

I lead her across the street to the town green, keeping a layer of shadows between her and the surprise waiting at the center. Once we step onto the grass, I slow us to a stop. “Close your eyes.”

She does as I ask without question, without hesitation. Her trust in me causes the strangest feeling in my chest, one I can’t name but want more of.

I dismiss my shadows and pause for a moment, taking one last look at all of the preparations, wanting— needing —everything to be perfect. Tonight, I’ll convince Hannah that what is between us is far more than a side-effect of magic, that we have something real.

A table sits in the middle of the green, covered with a silver table cloth and topped with gold place settings and cutlery. The finest crystal stemware awaits the pour of the rare vintages of wine brought from my cellars.

Tiny globes of magical light float all around, lighting the scene. The walking tulips agreed to temporarily root in a circle around the table to add another layer of beauty.

At my signal, a wood nymph begins to play a harp, the liquid notes flowing through the cool evening air in a river of lovely sound.

Hannah’s eyes snap open, going wide. I watch several emotions flicker over her face, savoring each one, shock, wonder, and yet more surprise as she spots each new item. Her expression settles into one of delight.

This is good. I’ve never done anything like this for anyone, yet I approached it in much the same way as my previous military campaigns.

I delegated tasks better left to others, then hovered over them until they completed their duties to my utmost specifications.

When you have a reputation like mine, all you need to do is throw in a few glowers and questioning grunts, and underlings become quite motivated.

Every single moment spent on this most excellent date becomes instantly worth it when Hannah looks at me, admiration warming her beautiful brown eyes and making their gold flecks sparkle.

“Severin, this is amazing! It’s…” She turns to look at the table again before meeting my gaze. “It’s more than anyone’s ever done for me. ”

Good. That’s exactly what I want to hear. I want no other to compare.

I want her to be mine, body and soul.

“The best is yet to come,” I promise as I lead her to her seat and pull out her chair.

Once she’s settled, I sit across from her, the table small enough that our knees brush.

I open and pour the chilled white wine that goes with the starting courses, leaving the breathing red to wait until the entrée.

In a ripple of magic, a brownie appears beside the table. Two-foot tall, she matches her name, her pale skin offset by brown eyes, a tall puff of straight brown hair, and clothing made of various shades of brown leaves. “I am Pepperpot, and I will be your chef tonight.”

She disappears, and Hannah asks, “What kind of fae is she? Does she teleport like Naomi?”

“She’s a brownie, and she’s using invisibility magic.”

Pepperpot steps back into view, holding a basket full of nirvana. As soon as she sets it on the table, I snag a roll, then remember my manners and place one on Hannah’s appetizer plate as well.

The yeasty smell hits me the moment I slice into the warm bread with my knife, and I almost shove it into my watering mouth without buttering it first. But no, bread this good deserves to be enjoyed properly.

That first bite is everything I’ve been missing, the bread so light and airy its perfect taste melts across my tongue. I moan.

Hannah watches me, an amused smile curling her lips. She’ll see. Oh, how she’ll see.

I slide the crock of butter closer to her and gesture, then take another bite of bliss.

Hannah nibbles on the edge of her roll, then her eyes go wide and she chomps down, chewing vigorously. “Oh, my god, this is epitome of bread, the bread that all other bread wishes it could be.”

“You get it now.” I shove the rest of the roll into my mouth and reach for another. “There’s nothing else like brownie bread.”

“Is this your cook from the palace?”

“No.” I offered a ludicrous salary to Pepperpot, to no avail. “But there’s good news. Pepperpot has agreed to open a bakery in Ferndale Falls.”

Hannah gives an excited squeal around a bite of bread and swallows. “You mean I get to eat this every day?”

“Every day,” I promise.

Pepperpot reappears with two bowls of asparagus soup, the pale, creamy liquid smooth and delicious. It’s not quite as good as the bread, then again, what is?

We sip the delicate white wine as we eat, and as soon as the soup is done, the brownie whisks it away, leaving us each two lightly seared scallops drizzled with herb-infused oil.

It’s almost a tease, the serving size enough to give a good idea of the seafood’s excellent flavor and tender texture, yet not quite enough to satisfy. It’s one of the marks of a good chef, when a meal will have several courses like this.

When the last morsel of scallop disappears between Hannah’s lips, she sets down her appetizer fork and shoots me a rather sheepish smile. “Sorry, the food is so good I kind of forgot people usually eat dinner together so they can talk.”

“The lapse is as much mine as yours,” I say. “Yet there’s no one else I’d rather share this meal with than you. A brownie working at the height of their abilities is a meal to be savored, and I like seeing you enjoy it.”

“Didn’t you tell me you’ve had brownie chefs before?”

“I have, yet none of them matched Pepperpot’s abilities.

” What I don’t admit to Hannah is that those brownies didn’t want to work for me.

Their food was always excellent—they wouldn’t dare serve me anything less—but I can now see that it lacked a certain something.

Pepperpot’s joy at creating shines in every bite and elevates her food to an even higher level.

This is certainly an unexpected perk of being “good.”

The brownie reappears, the main course in hand, herb-infused pheasant with a roasted root vegetable side.

The white wine disappears from the table along with the appetizer plates, and I pluck up the red I’ve had breathing for a good half hour.

It’s an earthy, smooth wine with cherry, black currant, and violet notes.

The harpist plays continuously, wrapping us in a bubble of beautiful music that makes it easy to forget we’re in the middle of town.

Between the excellent food and company, I have to force myself to take more notice of our surroundings.

Multiple people walk past the green, all staring at our fabulous meal for two.

Even though I arranged all of this for Hannah, I cannot regret that it will further serve our story of a love match.

Yet when she looks at me with delight and approval shining from her eyes, I find it hard to think of anything other than tonight’s plan to prove we share a true connection.

Our initial hunger somewhat dulled, we converse as we continue eating.

I admit that I spent most of my day arranging this evening’s date, as well as the two new businesses for Ferndale Falls.

Hannah tells me about the porcupine family that came to visit and her plans to stock her kitchen with a range of animal-safe foods.

I make a note that we will need to do so at the palace as well, during the year she’s with me.

For the second time in my life, I make small talk.

I ask her about her work as mayor and actually pay attention as she recounts the lengths she’s gone to in order to keep her beloved town afloat.

She tells funny stories of decorating various empty shops to attract temporary businesses called “pop-up stores.” The Severin of only a few months ago would have sneered at hearing such small details from another person’s life.

But this evening, it takes little effort to listen to Hannah, to learn more about her.

Underneath her sunny disposition and general goodness, she’s driven, stubborn, and a furiously hard worker. I admire all of these traits as well as sharing them. You can think conquering thoughts all day long, but if you don’t have a good work ethic, you’ll never rise to the level of warrior king.

We finish the last bites of an excellent raspberry tart as she wraps up the story of decorating one of the empty shops for Halloween.

She sets down her fork and gives a soft chuckle, shaking her head.

“I will never underestimate what it takes to do that large of a project again. I budgeted a couple of hours and spent all weekend on it! Who knew fake spider web was such a pain in the butt?”

“What did all of your hard work reap?”

“Well, the shop was only open for two weeks. It did okay but not great, so there wasn’t much rent or tax money.” A touch of joy flickers in her eyes, in contrast with her words.

“There’s something more.” I lean forward. “Tell me.”

“While the Halloween store was open, every kid in town visited at least once, if not more often. It was all they could talk about—how cool it was to have a costume shop with lots of options. The wonder in their eyes, the smiles on their little faces…” Her lips curl in soft satisfaction as her gaze goes dreamy and distant.

And there it is, the core of her being. Hannah’s heart is big enough to care for all of those children, big enough to encompass this entire town.

I lift my glass to her. “To you, Mayor Hannah Wylde, and your indefatigable spirit and heart. May they ever shine.”

She drinks with me, then continues to hold her glass high. “To you, King Severin, for going above and beyond in helping to revitalize Ferndale Falls.”

We sip the wine to seal the toast, but she lifts her glass again. “Thank you for tonight. This is the most amazing date of my life, not that I’ve had many lately.” Regret flickers in her eyes for a moment before she shakes it away.

“I find that hard to believe,” I say. “You’re beautiful. You’re accomplished. Men should be lining up to beg for a single second of your time.”

“There aren’t many single men around.” She gives an awkward one-shouldered shrug. “And… I haven’t made my personal life much of a priority these last few years. My friends keep telling me I need to ‘get a life.’”

“We share that in common,” I admit. At her startled gaze, I add, “I was king, but I lived in the service of the Dark God. There were never nights like this, never times that were for nothing but beauty and the pleasure of another’s company.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry.” She leans forward to take my hand, sympathy filling her beautiful eyes. “Tell me more about it? If you want…”

“I was a warrior king. The Dark God wanted to conquer all the realms of Faerie, and I was his instrument. Avalon was already half dead by the time I was born. I grew up believing it was simply the way of the world and that the Dark God’s desires were noble.

” All of this is difficult. I’ve never admitted any of this to anyone.

Since my closest confidants lived it beside me, Varyn and Daigan know all of this with no need for discussion.

To tell Hannah makes me feel raw and exposed, yet a part of me also longs to have her know me better.

“Then I visited Alarria and walked through a healthy forest of trees that sang to me of life. I saw orcs and other fae living as they chose instead of under the command of the Dark God, and I knew I wanted that for myself: No more war, only life.”

“Have you found that here, on Earth?”

“I have.” A deep breath fills my nose with the scents of greenery and flowers, a visceral realization of all I’ve gained.

Yet Earth is so much more than that, because I’ve also found Hannah, who sees the best in me, who looks at me like a man instead of a villain.

Even after my confession, her eyes hold nothing but warmth.

It’s intoxicating. My body yearns toward hers like a plant eager for the sun .

I squeeze her fingers, then lift my glass for another toast. “To making up for lost time. I propose we spend the next year exploring the possibilities of ‘getting a life’ together.”

She drinks and sets down her glass, but her fingers linger, playing with the stem, her eyes focused on them as she clears her throat in a show of nerves. “There’s something else I want to talk about.”

My shoulders tighten. Is she going to say it was a mistake, that it can never happen again? That’s the very last thing I want.

“I didn’t say the right thing afterward.

The truth is… I didn’t know what to say.

” Her eyes flick up to meet mine. “I’ve never had magical sex before.

I have no idea what’s normal. And that’s hard for me.

I like knowing things, being competent, but this whole magic thing has made me fumble around.

After we were together, I couldn’t handle the thought of you realizing this was another area of magic I didn’t know.

I said the wrong thing at the time, and I want to fix that now.

” Pink tints her cheeks. “That night was special for me.”

The Severin of the past would howl in triumph that she exposed a vulnerability and start listing ways to exploit it. How foolish that would be! This is not weakness. On the contrary, Hannah’s admission took great strength—the kind of strength I’ve never shown in my life.

Until now. Until her.

“It is I who should be sorry,” I say. “Of course, you couldn’t know how magic impacts sex, and I should have realized that.”

I could tell her how I’ve never known a loving relationship in my life. How my parents were distant, their entire lives focused on serving the Dark God right up until their final battle.

Yet I no longer need to be that person. I’m already changing, most of it due to the woman sitting across from me. Hannah makes me want to reach for the finer feelings in life. The truth of my hollow emotional life is too raw to expose, yet I want to offer her something.

“Let me assure you, nothing about our encounter was normal. I’ve never felt that kind of desire before. My knot has never swelled for anyone else.” I pluck her hand from the glass and hold it tight. “It was special for me as well. You’re special to me.”