Page 15 of How To Please A Princely Fae (Wild Oak Woods #3)

KIERAN

M ine.

They recognize Willow as mine, as they very well should.

Triumph floods me, only stopped short by the fact my witch is still tense and trembling with anxiety.

For her friends. For her town.

Guilt dulls my sense of victory and I tuck her closer to me, burying my nose in her rosemary-and-mint-scented hair. “We will help your friends.”

“They don’t need help, they need a clever seamstress,” Caelan announces, and I realize I spoke too loudly.

Everyone stares at Caelan, even his dog, who’s still warming himself by the fire.

“For their wedding garments, obviously,” he flicks a hand through the air, and a growl of dismay rattles in my chest.

“If they do not wish to wed, then we will not force them. I will not be part of having any of their free will taken away.”

“It’s just two—” Caelan starts.

“Enough,” Wren tells him, her eyes narrowing to furious slits. “These are my friends you’re talking about?—”

“You and Willow and Piper seem happy enough. I haven’t given you any reason to complain.” He clicks his tongue and shakes his head. “How do you know these elemental creatures will be any different? They’re moving to town, aren’t they? None of you have to, you know, be abducted against your will and moved to what I’m sure are palatial, magical residences?—”

“That’s not the point,” Nerissa snaps, looking fiery and wild.

Much too harsh for my tastes, that one. No, I prefer my soft and lovely Willow… to everything, perhaps.

“The point is that none of us want to be forced into what appears to be an eternal bond,” Nerissa finishes, and her wolf familiar sits up on massive paws and stares, unblinking, at her.

“I’ll do it,” Violet says, her voice quiet but strong. Determined. “I don’t have a place here, not like the rest of you.” The words rush out of her, into the stunned silence she’s created.

“Violet—” Nerissa starts, but Violet holds up her hand.

Willow’s face pales. “You don’t need to do that?—”

“Absolutely not?—”

“Why would you want to?—”

The witches explode at once, then pause to glance around at each other.

Ruby stands, pacing the length of the hearth, which means she has to step over the deer lying in the way as Boner tracks her progress with sad hound eyes.

Willow’s lips are pressed in a thin line, and Piper looks ready to pounce if anyone else so much as utters that they’re considering the offer of marriage.

“Why shouldn’t I?” Violet asks, and there’s a hint of stubbornness under her sweet-natured tone that surprises me.

It shouldn’t surprise me, considering each woman in this room is about as tractable as a decades-old fruitcake. You’re more likely to break your tooth arguing with one than to get anywhere with an entire coven of them.

“Why are you set on it?” I counter, as gently as possible.

Willow nods fervently, still tucked in so tight to me that her head rubs against my chest. Piper throws me a grateful look, and Wren’s shoulders relax slightly.

“Because I have nothing to lose. No one to lose. No business to keep, no magic I know of, and—” Her voice falters and she goes silent, looking to the shadows dancing in the back of the fireplace.

We’re silent, waiting for her to finish.

“You’re drawn to him.” Nerissa’s voice is weary, and when I glance back at her, she’s rubbing her temple. Her hand dips down to a locket on a long chain around her neck, and her fingers smooth across the surface.

Violet doesn’t answer, but the determined set to her eyes says everything she doesn’t voice.

“Right, then. Well. Perhaps we’ll get more answers when the duchess returns to town. With them.” Ruby pauses her pacing, her hands on her hips. “I’ve been researching wild magic,” she continues. “Having ancient elemental powers like the ones these… er, suitors are offering does appear to be the most likely way of controlling the impact.”

“Suitors?” Caelan drawls.

Wren smacks his arm, and he laughs.

Ruby glares at him, power crackling along her skin.

Caelan raises his eyebrows before dropping his gaze to his dog. “Suitors it is.”

I stifle a laugh because this will go down in memory as one of the few times Caelan has been silenced by a mere look, and not one from his blonde mate.

In memory.

I stiffen, letting the conversation ebb and flow around me as it hits me all at once.

I remember Caelan.

I remember our lives in the Underhill, with the Dark Queen… my mother.

My hand falls away from Willow’s gentle curves, and my breath stutters as it all comes rushing back.

I remember it all.

And I remember why Willow thought I hated her.

Because I wanted her to.