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“Never underestimate the power of wounded pride.”

Author Unknown

T he last four days were as slow as sap dribbling down a pine tree.

On Saturday afternoon, I forced myself to stop by the library to ask Trevor if he’d like to go for dinner. Unfortunately, he had to take an unexpected trip to visit his brother in Glassmarsh.

Which left me free for Nia to play matchmaker.

So far this week, I’ve been on three dates.

Sunday, I met Nolan’s third cousin, Tobias McAfee, at a tea house. Tobias was pleasant enough when he managed to pry his gaze from my breasts long enough to look me in the eye.

Monday, I went for a stroll with Nia’s former classmate, Samuel Tipton, which was moderately enjoyable until he kissed me goodbye and tried to choke me with his tongue.

Tuesday was the final straw. My aunt’s friend’s son Finneas Clarke took me to the Rosehill greenhouse and had the audacity to grab my backside. Too bad I didn’t keep Gryffin’s blade. Finneas deserved a good poke in the ribs.

By this morning, I’ve given up on men entirely.

Seelie men, anyway.

If Nia didn’t spend every waking moment on my heel, I would’ve gone straight to the well to see if Ever had returned from his hunt and ask how he fared.

Instead, I spend the afternoon helping Aunt Cordelia pack all her pies into boxes for transport. When evening finally arrives, I change into my new dress. Tiny flowers dot the ivory corseted bodice and lavender chiffon overskirt. The ribbons at the back are a celery green. I feel like a princess when I put it on—although finding a prince is the last thing on my mind.

With my hair curling down my back, I tuck one of the flowers Ever gave me behind my ear, just in case he’s back and decides to accept my invitation. When Nia sees me, she asks if I’ve changed my mind about Ronan.

I tell her that the flowers aren’t from the prince, and when she asks who gave them to me, I shrug and escape down the stairs with her flying down behind me like a banshee. Both of us come to a screeching halt when we see my aunt speaking to Trevor on the stoop.

My missing suitor offers a tentative smile. “Ladies, I apologize for barging in unannounced, but as I was telling Mrs. Quill, I just returned from Glassmarsh and had hoped to escort Kerris to tonight’s festival.”

Nia shoves me between the shoulder blades, and I careen forward, narrowly avoiding a collision with my aunt. “You go with Trevor, and I’ll help my mother with the pies.”

“I don’t mind helping?—”

My aunt waves me off as well. “No, no. You go ahead. We insist.”

Those two are as subtle as a bloomin’ plank to the forehead.

Reluctantly, I allow Trevor to lead me down the path to where everyone is emerging from their fear-induced hibernation.

Imagine being so afraid that you lose an entire day every week just to avoid your neighbors. Madness.

Trevor pats my hand where it rests in the crook of his arm, his smile warm and friendly. “I’m sorry I have been so inattentive of late. You deserve better.”

Unlike Tobias, Trevor has the decency to look at my face when he speaks.

I tell him it’s all right even though I’m not sure it is. Never making time for someone with whom you wish to start a relationship doesn’t bode well for the future.

I’d appreciate a husband who wants to spend at least a little time with me.

Then again, perhaps this is what marriage is like in the city. Take my aunt and uncle, for instance. Uncle Arlo rarely arrives home from the counting house until well after dinner and yet my aunt seems happy, baking away to her heart’s content.

Perhaps I was spoiled by my parents’ relationship and should lower my expectations.

Have low expectations ever begotten true happiness?

Do I really want to settle when there’s someone out there for whom my blood sings?

The closer we get to the square, the more packed the streets become. People must’ve travelled from miles around to attend tonight’s festival.

Maypoles have been erected around the fountain, with ribbons fluttering and flowers spilling from pots affixed to the tops. Children race toward the poles, fighting for their favorite colors. I remember doing the same when I was smaller, before the families with children moved off the mountain. Theo would never participate, even when I begged.

A few people we pass comment on the stunning silver bloom behind my ear, their gazes bouncing between Trevor and me, rife with curiosity. More than once, I hear them whisper about the prince, but I ignore them all.

With whom I choose to spend my time is none of their business.

Trevor and I meander through the vendors selling pies, buns, cakes, and biscuits of all flavors. We find Nia at one of the stalls, helping her mother arrange pies. When she sees us, she skips to my side, our argument from last week finally forgotten.

“Will we go for drinks?” she asks, bonfire light sparkling in her eyes.

It’s one of the first times since our fight that she has looked at me without animosity. How I’ve missed her smile. The three of us head over to where the line meanders in front of the temple. To my eternal delight, Ivee arrives a moment later in a flurry of lacy pink skirts.

For once, she doesn’t glare or glower at us, which immediately makes me suspicious. “Did you hear the news?” she gasps, her cheeks as pink as her gown.

Nia manages to control her scowl as the three of us shake our heads.

Ivee leans closer. “William told Shiela that the Unseelie didn’t come to the well today.”

Why is Nia looking at me like that? This is hardly my fault.

They’re probably still hunting. Or maybe something went wrong. I hope Ever is all right. If there weren’t so many people, I’d venture to the bridge to find out myself.

“Of course they didn’t,” a mocking voice says from behind me. My shoulders stiffen as Ronan and Nolan join our group. “We all know the Unseelie are allergic to happiness,” Ronan continues, his eyes narrowed on where I cling to Trevor’s arm.

After some speculation, mostly between Ivee and Ronan, we finally reach the front of the line. This wine cannot come soon enough.

Despite Ronan’s protests, Trevor insists on buying the first round. When he tries to hand the prince his drink, Ronan looks down at the glass as if it’s filled with lava.

Petulant prince.

If anyone wants to know what a sore loser looks like, they need look no further.

I swipe the glass for myself and then drain them both before discarding them in one of the rubbish barrels.

Ivee might be the one hanging on Ronan’s every word and clinging to his arm like a barnacle, but I can feel his eyes on me.

The simplest way to escape is to join the dancers.

For once, I’m the one dragging Nia into the fray. By the time we finish the reel, we’re both breathless and our stomachs ache from laughter.

My smile falters when I catch Ronan leaning toward Trevor, their expressions grim as they converse. From the way Trevor glances my way, I have a sinking feeling they’re talking about me.

Heaven only knows what Ronan is saying. The prince really has become a thorn in my side. The sooner he marries, the better.

When we get back to our friends, Trevor hands me a fresh glass of wine but keeps me at arm’s length. Each time I try to step closer, he takes a step in retreat, until he nearly collides with one of the tables surrounded by merrymakers.

Enough is enough. “Have I done something to offend you?”

He suddenly finds the cobblestones very interesting. “I don’t know what you mean.”

What is it with these Seelie men and their penchant for lying? “I saw you speaking to Ronan, and now you’re acting as if I’m covered in smallpox. I demand to know what he said to you.”

“Do you mind if we continue this conversation tomorrow? I’m suddenly quite tired?—”

“ Trevor .”

My date grimaces even as his gaze darts around the crowded square. “I’m dreadfully sorry, Kerris. If I’d known you and Ronan were still involved, I never would have offered to escort you tonight.”

“We’re not involved. We haven’t been in ages.”

His brow lifts as if he doesn’t believe a word I’m saying. “Look, I am quite fond of you, but you don’t know the prince the way I do, and I cannot afford to be his enemy.”

The prince’s enemy? What in the world is he talking about?

“Did he tell you not to pursue me?”

Trevor grimaces.

That swine .

“You are unbelievable.” He must not hold any true affection for me at all if he is so easily put off. “Ronan Reve is a bully, and I want nothing to do with him.” And if no one else speaks up, he will only get worse. Petty princes make petty kings. “Until this moment, I thought you and I might have a chance at a relationship, that perhaps your hesitation was due to shyness.” Turns out, I was a fool all along. “Now I see that you are a coward, Trevor Dillon, and I do not wish to tie myself to someone who isn’t willing to fight for me.”

Yes, I am a strong, independent, capable woman and can fight my own battles, but it does not make me weak to want a partner to stand up and fight by my side.

Trevor’s cheeks flush a deep scarlet. “He threatened to have me removed from the library. I care for you, Kerris, but my job is my life.”

He did what?

That manipulative snake .

I turn on my heel, scouring the crowd for the prince. Ronan Reve is about to get a piece of my mind, and he isn’t going to like what I have to say. So much for enjoying the rest of my night. The moment I finish saying my piece, I’m going straight back to the cottage to stew in my rage.

Nia watches me through wide eyes, and I’m not sure whether she overheard everything, but from the way she scowls at Trevor, I assume she heard enough.

“Where’s Ronan?” I grit out.

“With Nolan over by the fountain. Why?”

“Because I’m going to tell him that he is a no-good, conniving weasel.”

Her hand snaps out, her cool fingers encircling my wrist. “Calm down.”

Ha! As if that’s possible right now with my blood boiling. “He threatened to get Trevor fired from his job if he continued seeing me.” For that, he’s getting a piece of my mind. No, not a piece. The whole bloomin’ pie. I don’t care who his father is, Ronan doesn’t get to treat people like this.

The music comes to an unexpected halt, as if the musicians overheard my plan. Gasps and curses rise from the crowd as I search for Ronan’s golden hair. I feel like ripping it all out, strand by strand until he’s bald as a bloomin’ mole.

Nia’s hands fly to her mouth. “Oh, no.”

“Oh, yes.” I’m going to kick him in the shin. Both shins. I might even slap him. Let him walk around the festival with my handprint on his no-good face.

Nia points to something behind me. “No, Kerris. Look.”

I whirl, finding Ever sitting atop his black steed. The rest of the Unseelie appear from the shadows, carts of jugs rattling behind them, staring back at us.