Page 42 of Fey Divinity

“Then why are you here questioning his loyalty instead of working with him to refine our plans?”

“Because trusting him feels...” I struggle to articulate the sensation. “Dangerous. Like standing on the edge of a cliff.”

“And yet you do it anyway.”

“Yes.”

Selwyn’s expression softens slightly. “That’s called caring about someone, Brother. It’s supposed to feel dangerous.”

“I don’t care about him,” I lie. “He’s useful. Strategically positioned. Nothing more.”

“Of course not.” Selwyn’s tone is absolutely deadpan. “That’s why you’re wearing your wedding braid like it’s a crown jewel.”

“I haven’t got time for this!” I snap as I get to my feet.

“You never do,” Selwyn says mildly. “But perhaps that’s the problem. Perhaps it’s time you stopped running from things that might actually make you happy.”

“Happiness is for other people,” I say coldly.

“Or are you simply scared of the unknown?”

The question follows me as I stride out without another word. I slink through the secret passageway and through Selwyn’s portal door, emerging in the living room of Jack’s flat with my brother’s words still echoing in my mind.

Jack turns away from the television he was watching to look at me. His entire face lights up. His oddly coloured eyes sparkling with genuine pleasure at seeing me.

“You came back!” he exclaims.

My heart flutters. It beats too fast and then too slow. I have an absurd urge to rub at my chest, as if that’s going to help. Selwyn’s words echo mockingly.That’s called caring about someone.

“Of course!” I snap.

Jack’s smile grows even bigger. He really is impossible.

“I was watching the news,” he says, gesturing to the television. “More reports about unrest in other cities. People are starting to ask questions about the fey laws.”

I study his face carefully, looking for signs of calculation or manipulation. Instead, I see only genuine concern.

“And how does that make you feel?” I ask.

“Hopeful,” he admits. “If people are asking questions, it means they’re not just accepting the occupation as permanent. They’re still thinking like free people.”

The simple honesty in his voice does something strange to my chest. This is what Selwyn meant about humans being less duplicitous than fey. Jack doesn’t layer his words with hidden meanings or political calculations. He just... says what he thinks.

And for some crazy reason, he seems to trust me as easily as he breathes.

“That’s a dangerous way to think,” I tell him, settling onto the sofa beside him. “If the wrong people hear you expressing such sentiments...”

“They’ll what? Arrest me? Execute me?” Jack shrugs. “Sometimes the risk is worth it.”

“Is it? Is your freedom worth dying for?”

The question comes out more seriously than I intended. Jack turns to look at me directly, and there’s something fierce in his expression.

“Yes,” he says simply. “Isn’t yours?”

The words hit me like a physical blow. Because the answer, I realise, is yes. My freedom is worth dying for. I know far too well what it is like to be enslaved. To be owned and possessed.

But more than that, Jack’s freedom is worth dying for. The thought of him living under fey rule for the rest of his life, of watching him slowly lose that spark of rebellious hope, is unbearable.