Page 15

15

NOT MY ENEMY (YET)

Rachel

C aenan is the strong, silent type on the surface, but his silence is loaded and fucking judgmental. From the moment I emerge from the guest bedroom, he follows me from a couple paces away, his eyes never leaving mine.

I try not to be self-conscious, but it’s hard in this stupid princess dress. I’m not the type of girl who wears dresses, for one. And if I were, I wouldn’t have chosen this one. Don’t get me wrong, it’s absolutely gorgeous. But the neckline dips too low, the boned bodice making my tits look downright indecent. It follows every single one of my curves.

I’m not fat. I wear a size medium. I fully realize that if I hadn’t grown up as Darina’s sister, I would have seen the girl in the mirror as perfectly average; but having that tiny petite thing to compare to, I’ve always found myself too big, too awkward, too much.

Now, I realize I meant too mortal.

The dress conceals the little tummy flab I tend to hide under loose cardigans, tucking it in firmly, and I’ve never looked hotter, but that’s not me. It’s just too ostentatious.

The moment I enter the revel, I realize that if anything, it’s probably not ostentatious enough .

The folk are in their best. They wear every color, shiny fabric, pearls, diamonds. Some are completely naked, painted in glittering gold. Others are only partially dressed, or clad in filthy outfits that wouldn’t have been out of place in sex dungeons. But those who wear gowns—a good half of the ladies, and some of the gentlemen? They went all out. Trains. Miles of taffeta, poofy skirts. There’s even a blonde woman in a huge white monstrosity that I’m pretty sure is a Vera Wang wedding gown. Hell, my pink dress makes me look like I could be the help in comparison. I wonder if Loch did that on purpose.

Just as I think of him, I see the annoying, and annoyingly gorgeous light haired fae. He certainly didn’t choose the outfit of a scullery maid. He’s in white again, but there’s a certain sheen to the fabric, like it could be leather, and threads of gold run along the lapels, forming a beautiful floral design. Trees and roots and maybe even mushrooms.

He spots me and smiles, lifting his glass in what might look like a polite salute, but feels like mockery.

Maybe I’m reading too much into all of it, still reeling from earlier in Darina’s room. I flush, forcing myself not to think of…any of that.

It was horrible, being trapped in my own body, unable to move it like I wanted to. I wanted to punch him. Run. But all I could do was…that. What he told me to. All the while hearing those noises he and my sister were making.

It was twisted, cruel, wrong. An assault. And Darina just brushed it off.

The swell of anger in my chest is directed at everyone, my sister included, but also myself. Because she wasn’t wrong: I would not have truly understood what she meant when she spoke of danger, if it hadn’t been for that moment.

Are they really all capable of making me do things like that?

If so…she’s correct. I really cannot afford enemies.

Play nice. I can do that.

I make my way to Loch, surprised when the crowd seems to part for me. They watch me intently, though. Too intently, their hungry gazes raking over my chest, my ass. I try to ignore it, but there’s no denying I flush.

Caenan stands much closer, his dark suit occasionally brushing against my bare arm.

I could be wrong, but I think he says, “ Careful ,” as we approach Loch.

I’ve certainly been careless enough so far.

I clear my throat. “Darina said you found the dress and had it altered for me. Thank you.”

He groans. “By all the gods, truly? Didn’t Darina just tell you what it meant to thank one of the folk?”

“Oh, god.” My heart skips a beat. Seriously, how could I say those words after all I’ve heard? But they just slipped out. It’s goddamned politeness. “Sorry. I didn’t mean it.”

“You said it anyway.” The fae sighs, leaning against a sole high-backed armchair.

Darina’s, presumably. It’s not a throne, but the place it occupies—on a dais, at the center of the ballroom—makes its status evident.

“Are you going to enslave me?” I whisper.

He only snorts.

“You told my sister to send me away,” I push. “You could force me to go, now, couldn’t you?'“

“I did tell her that. You’re a liability. And a fool.”

I bite back a retort, wishing I could contradict him. But I’ve already proven that he had a point.

And the thing is, I dislike him. I dislike Ryther. They both gave me reasons to, but I’m self-aware enough to realize I wouldn’t have been fond of either of them in any case. Part of me hated Loch as soon as I heard what Rina did for him. I’ve always been jealous of my sister’s kinship, her connection with Rain. It’s in my nature to want to be as important to her as she is to me, and I know I’m not. That’s why I chose Ben, the boy who was choosing me back at every turn. He’s cheated a few times, yes, but whenever I gave him a choice, he immediately dumped the other girl for me. He picked me, always.

Rina never chose me over Rain. She isn’t choosing me over Loch, or over Ryther. She’s telling me both are right for wanting me to leave. And I can’t deny they are.

It’ll be worse— I’ll be worse—now that I have no one else.

God, I need someone. Anyone. Friends.A lover. An ally.

A sister who loves me as much as I love her.

I bite my lip and try again. “About earlier, when you said what you said about my parents…you were cruel. But I spoke out of turn when I accused you of causing Rina’s death. Unprovoked. I’m sorry for that.”

I sound formal and fake and wrong, but Loch only tilts his head, intrigued. “Apology accepted.”

I blink. “Just like that?”

He shrugs now. “I meant it when I said we ought not to be enemies. But it’s not in my nature to forgive slights. One day I’ll take great pleasure in telling you if a dress makes your calves look fat. I see no need for greater effort on my part in light of your apology.”

I can read between the lines. “And if I hadn’t apologized?”

He smiles, all teeth. “In your great wisdom, you did. We folk repay debts in kind to our friends and a hundred times over to our enemies.”

For once, I decide to be completely honest with him. “You’re scary.”

“I’m glad you have the sense to be afraid,” he retorts.

“Would you have…killed me?”

His gaze takes me in from head to toe, considering. “Likely not. You’re no threat. No point eliminating you. Besides, our sister has suffered enough loss.”

Our sister. He says it so easily, sharing his claim on her without hesitation.

He’s not done yet. “I would have found out your greatest desire and given it to you.”

I’m about to say that doesn’t sound bad. I’m wrong.

“Then I would have taken it away. Destroyed it.”

Oh. Why, oh why didn’t I see that coming, exactly?

“Words have power here. Don’t wield such a sharp tongue unless you’re prepared to shoulder the consequences.” Then he winks, plucking two wine glasses off a tray a dainty green servants offers him.

He hands me one. I take it gratefully.

“I’m tempted to say nothing at all for the time being.”

“That would be a spectacular waste,” he snorts.

I’m surprised. “I thought you’d be all for it.”

One sip and I gasp, shocked by the taste of what I just drank. It’s not wine . That would be like calling a drink from the fountain of youth simply water. I’ve never tasted anything as delicious, and the way it instantly warms me, spreading joy and calmness to my belly is…dangerous.

Addictive.

Like everything else here.

“You ought to be careful with your words,” Loch tells me. “But unlike almost everyone else here, you can lie . Even our mortals have too much fae blood for it. You wouldn’t have to be particularly good for it to work.”

“Why would your mortals have too much fae blood?” I wonder, fighting the effects of the wine that make me want to dance and sing and…do other things.

“Extramarital sex, mostly,” he deadpans. “Most mortal lines have at least one fae ancestor here.”

I decide not to mention the bounty hunter that came from me said she thought I had a fae ancestor, too.

“Our species can reproduce?”

Now his grin is wicked. “Indeed. Some would say it’s the main use of mortals to the folk. You’ll likely be courted with that in mind.”

Oh. I look around, catching all those eyes on me again. “Ick.”

“Not fond of children?” he inquires.

“Not fond of being anyone’s broodmare.”

It’s not like they’re looking at me for me. They are likely analyzing my hips and deciding they’re wide enough to push out spawn, like it’s the middle ages.

“Don’t let anyone get you alone or they might convince you that’s you’re greatest desire.”

I’ve learned that lesson as well. I don’t tell him my socks and panties are inside out, but I find myself squeezing the leather pouch full of herbs in my pocket.

I’m the lone deer in a den of lions, and I can’t ever let myself forget it.