Page 22

22

“The grandest gestures often go unnoticed.”

Celeste Hanson Dawn, An Observation

A ll day I’ve been wound tighter than a spring, counting down the hours to nightfall. If Nia hadn’t been following me like a shadow since the moment we woke, I might’ve tried to sneak out and go to the well.

Instead, I’ve been forced to wait until the house is asleep to see Everett.

Any male would be lucky to have your attention .

Those words play on repeat in my mind.

We’re only friends but hearing him say things like that makes me wonder if perhaps we could be… more.

Not that it matters since I cannot possibly marry an Unseelie fae.

That doesn’t stop my mind from imagining the two of us together. Especially since I know I make Everett…stir.

My body ignites and no amount of fanning can cool me down.

Tomorrow, I need to get back out into the city and find a mate who doesn’t disappoint me at every turn. But tonight…

Tonight, I find Everett waiting on my side of the bridge, wearing the same solemn expression that seems to live on his handsome face.

It’s a good thing I like him even when he scowls. “Are all the planks there tonight?” I ask, only half teasing.

“They will always be there.”

For some reason, the slight edge to his tone makes my stomach flutter. “Afraid I’ll fall, Everett?”

He shifts his weight, and his hands flex, as if bracing for a fight. “I will not let any harm come to you.”

“I know you won’t.” Don’t ask me how I know. I just do.

While I grip the rope railing, Everett strolls straight down the middle of the bridge, as if unbothered by the way the planks sway. He doesn’t seem the least bit concerned by the silence that has descended between us either.

There are so many questions on the tip of my tongue, but I’m not quite sure how to start. I want to know everything about Everett and the Unseelie. What makes them different from us and what makes us the same.

Don’t ask me why.

Perhaps one day I will write a book of true facts that will put that grossly misleading one Trevor gave me out of print.

Although, I’m not sure my drawings could do Everett justice.

Since I will never see him disrobed , they wouldn’t be wholly accurate either. Imagine me, asking this man to remove his trousers. The very thought makes it almost impossible to swallow.

Everett comes to an abrupt halt. “Are you all right? You sound as if you are choking.”

Someone push me off this bridge right now before I die of mortification. “I’m just…um…” Just what? Picturing him naked, that’s what.

Sod it. I might leap off this bloomin’ bridge myself.

He waits patiently for me to compose myself, and when I finally do, all I can think to say is, “I’m having trouble breathing.”

He steps closer, his brow crushed with concern. The heat of his skin and the smells of leather and warm spring rain that seem to cling to him isn’t helping the breathing situation.

“Am I walking too fast? Do you need me to go slower?”

“No. No. You’re perfect.” Tell me I did not just blurt out that I think this man is perfect. Get it together, Kerris . “What I mean is, everything is fine. Please, proceed.”

He studies me from head to toe. He mustn’t find anything amiss, because he starts walking again, only this time his pace is considerably slower.

When we reach the other side, I hear the distinct sound of laughter drifting from the mist.

My heart shouldn’t sink. After all, if I want to know all about the Unseelie, I need to meet more than just one of them. But part of me is gutted that Everett and I won’t be spending the evening by ourselves.

A few more steps and we come upon a campfire where two Unseelie fae wait, not facing the flames, but turned toward us.

I recognize them from the well, but when I offer a tentative smile, neither of them returns it.

“Told you she would be here. Pay up,” the one with long hair says to the surly-looking one, his palm extended toward him. The blazing fire at their backs makes their gigantic silhouettes appear even more imposing.

Everett’s lips press flat when the man hands over a small knife.

How much did Everett tell them? Do they know we’ve been meeting in secret?

The one who won the bet rolls to his feet and saunters over. “My name is Maddox Finch. You must be the Kerris Dawn we have heard so much about.” He holds out a hand, but before I can give him mine, Everett growls at him.

Actually growls.

Chills race up my bare arms. Heavens, he can be intimidating when he wants to be. “You’ve heard about me, have you?”

Despite Everett’s menacing glare, Maddox claps him on the shoulder. “Heard? This lad does not stop talking about you. It is all: Kerris Dawn this and Kerris Dawn that.”

Everett’s hands flex into fists. “If you do not stop speaking, I will throw you into the canyon.”

Maddox huffs a laugh. “I have heard that before and yet here I stand. Welcome to our humble outpost, Kerris Dawn.” He sweeps his hand to where the other Unseelie still sits, gnawing on something by the fire.

So this is where Everett spends his nights, guarding our land from the dangers in his. “It’s lovely to make your acquaintance, Maddox.” The third man still hasn’t looked up from whatever he’s eating. “What’s your name?”

Maddox glances over his shoulder. “Oh, that is Gryffin Hew. He does not talk much—which is for the best since we are in the presence of a female, and he speaks mostly in curses and snarls.”

“You speak enough for the lot of us,” Gryffin mutters in a gravelly voice, not bothering to acknowledge my presence.

Is this the same Gryffin who told Everett to share his “feelings?”

Nope. Nope.

I am not thinking about that right now.

It’s nice knowing Everett isn’t out here all by himself. What a lonely life that would be, always looking out for people who don’t appreciate your sacrifice. The next time someone brings up the Unseelie, I’ll have to set them straight.

With a heavy sigh, Everett gestures toward the wide, flat stones encircling the fire. I follow him closer, the crackle and snap of the glowing logs unlocking horrific memories. Suddenly, the breeze shifts, blowing a plume of smoke toward me. My eyes start to sting, and my chest locks up.

Fires in a hearth are one thing, but a bonfire like this?—

It takes everything in me to keep from dropping to the ground where the smoke cannot reach me, cannot remind me… “Can we sit somewhere else?”

Gryffin snorts. “Too good for us, Seelie?”

I don’t owe the man an explanation—I don’t owe him anything. But for him to believe this has to do with my dislike of them isn’t how I want to start this night. I swallow past the lump in my throat, hating the tremble in my voice when I whisper, “My mother died in a fire, and the smoke brings back awful memories.”

Everett kicks the back of the log Gryffin sits on, sending the man sprawling into the dirt.

Gryffin scrambles to his feet and whirls on Everett, his stark features twisted in fury. “What the fuck was that for?”

“I told you to be nice.”

“How was I supposed to fucking know about her mother?”

Clucking his tongue, Maddox shakes his head. “Language, Gryff.”

“Fuck you, too.”

I expect him to stomp off, but instead he sits right back down and drags something from a leather satchel on the ground.

Everett holds out his hand. His long fingers envelop mine as he leads me to a spot far enough from the fire that the smoke doesn’t reach. He scowls down at the sparse patch of grass forcing its way through the dirt. “I should have brought a blanket for you to sit on.”

“There’s no need.” I unclasp my cloak and stretch it across the ground. Even after I settle myself with my skirts around me, Everett remains standing there looking like he doesn’t know what to do next. “Aren’t you going to sit with me?”

He glances to where his friends are watching, then back to me. After a few moments of indecision, he sinks down onto my cloak.

Maddox withdraws his dagger, balancing the tip of the blade on his index finger while Gryffin stabs the fire with a sword, sending sparks dancing into the endless gray.

“So this is what you do all night?” I ask.

Everett nods.

“Doesn’t it get boring?”

Maddox flicks his dagger into the air, catching it by the hilt. “Sometimes we kill trespassers.”

They do?

Everett shifts closer, bumping his shoulder against mine. “He is joking.”

“Am I?” Maddox waggles his brows, a wicked gleam in his eyes and a smile twisting his lips.

Maddox is the comedian, and Gryffin is the grumpy one. What does that make Everett? As if he can feel me staring at him, he turns slightly. His dark, slashing brows lift, a silent question in his black eyes.

Who are you?

This is neither the time nor the place for that question, so I ask another. “What’s with all the bones?” I nod toward the piles of white lining either side of the path.

“Most animals can smell death and avoid the area,” he explains.

“So they’re not to scare us off?”

The corners of Everett’s lips tilt into an almost-smile. “An added bonus.”

A chill dances up my spine, and it has nothing to do with the damp breeze.

His smile slips away. “You are cold. You should go home.”

Something about the darkness and the shadows makes me feel bolder than ever before. Makes me want things I shouldn’t.

Any man would be lucky to have your attention .

Right now, Everett has all of it.

“Or you could come closer and keep me warm.”

After a brief hesitation, he shifts until his bare arm presses against mine. No wonder he doesn’t need a shirt. He’s as warm as that fire.

I reach out a finger to trace his necklace, right where it falls at his collarbone. “Where did these come from?” It’s made of bones and teeth. Fascinating .

“That one is from the first elk I killed.”

“And this one?” My finger slips from the tooth, grazing along the hollow of his throat.

His breathing hitches, nostrils flaring. “From a silver fox.”

I didn’t even know foxes could be silver. “Why do you keep them?”

“We try to use everything we can.”

Such a different outlook compared to the Seelie fae, who drink in excess and leave behind far too much food. We’re wasteful by nature. If the sparse vegetation I can see from here is any indication of what lies on this side of The Divide, there doesn’t seem to be as much to waste.

“No box of food tonight, Kerris Dawn?” Maddox calls from his seat by the fire.

In my excitement to leave the house, the thought of bringing biscuits hadn’t even crossed my mind. “I’ll bring you some next time.”

Maddox’s bark of laughter only seems to make Everett’s scowl deepen. Even Gryffin is almost smiling.

“Please, do not do that,” Everett says through a grimace, his quiet plea almost lost to another round of laughter from Maddox. There is clearly something happening between them, but when I ask what it is, Everett rolls his lips together and his friends fall silent.

Did they not like the biscuits? Are they making fun of me? The heat of embarrassment washes over me.

But then Everett’s thigh grazes my skirt, and I’m warm for an entirely different reason.

“How old were you when you lost your mother?” he asks in a quiet voice.

“Five.”

His expression softens, soothing my raw heart. “My mother passed when I was five as well.”

“So, you’re not born of shadows and darkness, after all?”

The corners of his lips lift. “I am afraid not.”

Who would have thought that Everett and I would have such a tragedy in common? Perhaps that’s why I feel so drawn to him, because we have both suffered and have come out on the other side of loss different than before.

That’s something the so-called experts on these matters never tell you. When you lose someone you love, the years don’t fully heal you; they only give you longer respites between bouts of insurmountable grief.

“What about your father?” I ask.

The warmth in Everett’s eyes vanishes. “The elders exiled him from camp, and he did not survive long after being cut off from their resources.”

What could he possibly have done that was awful enough to warrant such a harsh punishment? As intrigued as I am, the shadows in Everett’s eyes leave me swallowing my question.

He shakes his head, as if dispelling the bad memories. “What about your father?”

Ronan’s voice cuts through my mind, unbidden. Tell them he’s something respectable. Like an accountant.

I didn’t lie to the king and queen; why would I lie now? “My father is a goat farmer.”

Everett doesn’t tell me I’m beneath him. He doesn’t make me feel less. He gives me one of his almost-smiles and says, “He must be proud of raising such a good female.”

Such simple words, yet they mean more than he could ever know.

“I hope so.”

Maddox hurls a stone toward The Divide. “I ate a goat once.”

Gryffin snorts. “You did not.”

“Did too.”

“When?”

“A few years ago. You were not there.”

Everett’s quiet chuckle makes my stomach flip. “Neither was the goat.”