Page 25 of This Midsummer Heart (Seasons of Legend #4)

Chapter twenty-four

By the Firelight of Embersdeep

Auberon

T

hank

whatever

gods

remain

in this world for Titaine. Before my panicked mind can come up with a way to salvage this meeting, she is speaking.

“Please,” she says to Lady Indigo and Lord Veld, taking my elbow, “call us by our given names—we insist. Of course we’ll be pleased to attend. It’s only that in our current state…”

“You’ll want to freshen up and have a little rest first, of course,” Veld offers, just as eager to smooth over my gaff.

“That exactly,” Titaine agrees.

Every set of eyes seems to be focused on me. I swallow, my throat bobbing as I cope with a sudden dryness. “Of course,” I repeat, feeling more than a little silly.

My poor mother did her best to teach me proper elven manners. If only my lessons in fighting had been a little less interesting, I might remember a few of them.

Lady Indigo whispers something to another attendant she’s beckoned forward, then smiles at us. “We’ll prepare rooms for you right away. Follow me, if you please. We’ll guide you there ourselves.”

“I’d love to hear more about Embersdeep as we walk,” Titaine says, releasing her grasp on my arm and moving to Lady Indigo’s arm instead. Something in Indigo’s posture softens, as if she is relieved by Titaine’s friendliness. “I’ve never been here before.”

“Not surprising, given the state of things, eh?” Veld says to me, attempting to prove just as genial. “Until now, of course.”

Until a few hours ago, when I finally became a worthy king.

“It might interest you to know,” I say, because I cannot stand to echo another of course,

“that I am no longer the leader of the unified House of Elves.”

“Just a king, then?” Veld raises his brows jokingly. I find myself matching his easy expression.

“Yes, just that.”

“You must be weary, traveling all this way from Avalonne. I’ve already called for our healers. I’m sure there’s a tale to tell there.”

I oblige him with one, not shying away from the part where I was bested by northern bandits. Rather than being taken aback by this, Veld looks worried. When I get to what happened earlier today, his face lights up. Soon enough, I begin to feel as though I’m telling a story to an eager child.

He sort of is one, compared to me.

With a start, I realize that Titaine and Indigo are no longer walking parallel to us, but split off in another direction. We’ve reached our lodging for the night—and it isn’t together.

As Veld directs me toward a set of spiraling stairs that disappear behind a cloak of red-glowing moss, I spare a look back at Titaine to see which way she is going.

And find her gazing across the draping embermoss at me.

For a moment, our eyes meet, and I nearly miss the next stair.

When I glance up again, whatever that was is lost for good.

Veld continues to tell me about the festivities, oblivious to it all, while Indigo chats amiably with Titaine, who seems to have forgotten me completely. Her face is animated as she replies.

Was that a pang of regret I saw in my bride’s backward glance as Indigo led Titaine to separate quarters? For the first time in a long while, we are neither sharing a room, nor a bed—nor a dark corner in a stable, for that matter.

First she rescues me. Then she tries to leave me behind. Then she admits she doesn’t hate me. Then she begins to look at me differently, with something that might be renewed respect.

I think she has a soft spot for me. I think she has it despite herself, but that it is something deeper than a lingering attraction or admiration of my physique.

And I wonder, as I enter the circular hut that greets me with the smells of cyprus, cedar and fresh linens, whether Titaine wishes she was sharing this room with me.

The Titaine I’ve come to know would love something like this. A little too much drink in the moonlight, close proximity, a little flirtation and confessions of true feelings she could later blame on strong spirits the next time I do something she doesn’t like.

But what would the Titaine I used to be bonded to have done?

I remember a bolder maiden with the confidence of the summer sun, before the pressures of our roles and my pigheaded stupidity made her close in on herself.

She’s still wounded, still afraid to admit her feelings and make herself vulnerable.

Afraid to be the fool again, when so many look to her to know the answers to every problem and to make wise choices for her House.

I wonder if the Titaine I first knew is still in there somewhere.

And I wonder if I can coax her out tonight.

The packed dirt clearing at the center of Embersdeep is filled with music and dance tonight. In its middle, a bonfire grows, the flames lapping at the sky as every elf lines up to contribute a piece of firewood before joining in the celebrations themselves.

Tables laden with roasted meats and vegetables make my mouth water long before I reach them, still guided by Veld. I eat with him, unsure of when Titaine will make an appearance. Perhaps she is still too tired.

Veld is as young as he appears, and concerned. He and Indigo have only been married a few months, and he confides in me that he worries how they will fare here. So far, the magic of Embersdeep is holding.

“If you draw a spiral through the City of Nox and the Chrysanthemum City across the sea, the second layer cuts through the swamp,” he explains. “Our astronomers seem to think this will offer us some protection.”

“And if it doesn’t?” I ask. “Will you take your people to Nox?”

A shadow passes over Veld’s brow. “We won’t leave our home.”

I wish I had his conviction. It makes me question why I am leaving my home behind, too. Why I am heading south instead of east towards Glowarian Forest.

Just as I am losing myself to questions too deep for this late an hour after this long a day, I see her.

Lady Indigo walks beside her, holding Titaine’s hand aloft as they enter the clearing.

Everyone but the musicians stop, bowing and murmuring as they spot their lady and their queen.

Titaine’s glow is a little stronger now, but I barely notice it for the warmth in her cheeks and the brightness of her eyes. And for that dress.

A dress the color of a pink ruby—the color of the roses that dot the flower urns on the banquet table—hugs Titaine’s curves before flaring around her legs, full of movement as if she is already dancing and not just walking. Her fae grace is on full display—as is her beauty.

She takes my breath away.

Belatedly, I realize Veld is still speaking to me. I turn my attention back to him, a little bewildered, and discover him grinning at me.

“I hope I appreciate my own bride as much as your majesty does, when we have been together as many years as you have,” he says, and I don’t bother to correct him. There’s no reason to.

She is my queen. I only need her to acknowledge it. I only need her to take the heart I am offering to her, and to offer hers to me in exchange.

I only need her.

“Your majesty,” Indigo greets me as she approaches with Titaine. Is it my imagination, or do Titaine’s cheeks grow a little more rosy when sees me, clean and finely dressed in a borrowed embroidered tunic that fits snugly around my chest. “Would you honor us with a dance with your queen?”

I cannot seem to locate my tongue as I stand, still a little breathless, and take Titaine’s soft hand from Lady Indigo. The way Titaine cuts her eyes up at me—somehow both shy and sly at once—nearly has me stumbling.

I lead her into the clearing, the dark elves of Embersdeep making space for us as I lead her in a dance I can barely remember the steps to.

“Now turn me,” Titaine whispers, reminding me when she senses I am at a loss. I do as she says, her red skirts flaring out and shading pink as they catch the light.

Someone cheers, followed by a chorus. Somehow, I make it to the end of the dance without leading either of us astray or trodding on Titaine’s feet. A good thing, as her borrowed slippers that match the dress must lack the protective enchantments of her usual pair.

The music starts again, lively, bright and almost wild. Without needing to think about it, I grip Titaine’s waist and lead her into a freer dance.

Her face lights up in a smile as I whirl her across the clearing, all hesitation gone. When the music stops, I find myself breathing hard. Not only that, but I am laughing with Titaine.

How long has it been since we laughed together?

A slow, swooping melody begins on a fiddle, then is picked up by a steady, softer drum.

The firelight grows, painting the shimmering rose color of her dress even brighter, her cheeks coloring to match.

We’re dancing so close to one another now, my hand reaching behind her waist. Without the gusto of the previous song, the gesture is so much more intimate now.

Titaine’s expression shutters and she starts to pull away. And I see everything so clearly for once: If I let her get away now, I may never get another chance.

“Titaine,” I say, my voice even and low beneath the music and the even drumming of the Midsummer feast, my hold on her just as steady.

“ Let me go,

Auberon,“ she practically snarls, as if she is my prisoner and not that my broad hand is spread across her back, exerting mild pressure.

Maybe she is my prisoner. Maybe she has been all along. But that is not who she is meant to be.

“Stay,” I command her.

“I said let me go, Morganna curse you!”

But instead of pulling away, she steps in toward me, her hands curled into fists as she pushes them against my chest, as if she meant to beat me with those little fists before the growing bonfire revealed the look in my eyes. It stops her in her tracks.

I cannot say how it appears to her. I only know that look upon her tenderly, searching for the person she was, for the love she once had for me, to find out once and for all if even a spark of it still remains.

A corner of Titaine’s mouth lifts in the start of a sneer as her lips part, managing a vehement “you” in rebuke before my hand moves to her jaw, cradling her face and stilling her speech in one movement.

The dark elves dance and sing around the bonfire, giving us a wide berth. I barely know they’re there. This moment between us stretches on, our bodies positioned in a posture somewhere between that of lovers and that of bitter adversaries.

“There can only be you, Titaine,” I tell her, gazing into the golden depths of those searching brown eyes.

“There is

only you—it’s only ever been you. No one else. I love you. I love you still, and I love you for a second time. Be my queen again, and I will be not your king but your devoted servant.”

Titaine shudders, and I think that she will pull away for good. Instead, her wings give a tremulous flutter, then a rapid beat as she rises to the tips of her toes.

And then her lips are on mine. She tastes of honey and salt and something uniquely her, something I can neither name nor live without. Instead of easing the aching in my chest, it only intensifies.

I’ve missed this. I’ve missed her. Her lips are so soft against mine, the movements of her mouth dancing between passion and hesitation. Titaine’s fists curl open, palms resting gently on my chest instead of pushing me away.

And it isn’t enough. In so many ways, it is nowhere near enough.

My hand still on her jaw, I pull away, pushing her back gently. Now it is my turn to search her face for answers, even though I have already received mine.

A kiss, no matter how heady, is not a yes. A kiss can be for love, for guilt, for saying goodbye. It cannot mean what I want it to until she says the words I ache to hear.

“Titaine.”

I say her name once, not quite pleading, because I know better than to ask for an inch of mercy from her when she is so unwilling to give it. When she is so unwilling to risk her heart.

Even when I can see now that beneath that unreadable mask of serenity she now wears, she wants to stay. She wants to be able to love me.

But Titaine hasn’t changed, even if I finally have. She won’t open her heart to me again—not when it means giving me the power to crush it again, too.

Diaphanous layers of rose flare and then disappear into the embermoss-lit night, back toward the huts of Embersdeep.

Titaine is gone.