Page 3 of This Midsummer Heart (Seasons of Legend #4)

Chapter three

A Decision

Auberon

“A

re

you

sure

you

want to do this, Auberon?” Robin the fae puk asks, omitting any use of my title. Or the deference I am due.

My decision is final. Why would I change my mind now?

Everything I wanted to happen already has or is currently going according to plan.

The House of Elves has a fat satchel of fae coin and valuable goods, being packed in crates with the rest of the House in preparation for our departure.

Titaine has humbled herself before me at last. And tomorrow morning, I and every remaining elf in this House will leave for the City of Nox to build our new unified House of Elves—this time with the magic we require to thrive.

What we will not have is the House of Fetes joining us there, to foil us again and again as they have since this was merely the House of Wood Elves.

There will be no fae to undercut us in trade agreements, or charge us astronomical prices for the enchanted weapons and goods our people need, despite the fact that we are the ones who craft those items they enchant.

After tomorrow, Titaine can do whatever she likes; the bulk of the House of Elves will be on the enchanted ships, and the rest have returned to their forests or woods.

The House of Elves has defeated the House of Fetes at last. Only Titaine doesn’t know it yet.

And if I want it to stay that way, I clearly need to keep an eye on Robin the Goodfellow. I do not like that furrow in his brow, or the concern in his voice. The puk has been with me for many years now, but it’s obvious his sympathies for his fellow fae are resurfacing.

I grip Robin’s slim shoulders in both my hands, dwarfing him. Against his fair skin, the blue tint from my dark elf heritage makes him appear almost ruddy—or is this a flush of displeasure I’m seeing? “This is the wrong time to get a conscience, Puk.”

Robin holds my gaze with a steely edge. “Your entire plan hinges on the assumption that Titaine will not reach Nox without those ships.”

“She might,” I concede, releasing Robin’s shoulders and making my way to the window.

From my study, I can spot a corner of the gatehouse on the House of Fetes’ plot of land, here in the heart of the city.

“But she will not reach it for many months, and by then, the House of Elves will be established in our new home, and the House of Fetes will still be looking for a residence with whatever coin they’ve scraped together.

It’s not an advantage I plan on allowing them to make up. ”

The House of Fetes was the first to establish itself in Laufee…

and they’ve never let the House of Elves forget it.

Bad enough that it took generations for our people to unify.

We have always been under the thumb of the House of Fetes when it came down to it, even though the elves became our own people, sovereign and distinct from the fae, thousands of years ago.

The merchant houses of the entire Western Cross are reluctant to cross the fae, and in the case of the oldest and most powerful mortal families, their contracts with the fae existed hundreds of years before the House of Wood Elves put down their roots—so to speak—in this city.

Everything is going to change when we reached the City of Nox. My only regret is that I will not see the look on Titaine’s face when she reaches the empty docks, every one of the twelve runeboats I booked, collectively known as Zephyr’s Bounty,

already embarked upon their journey. The House of Elves will be on the Diam Sea for hours before the fae even know we’re gone.

Everything is going to be perfect. As long as Robin doesn’t muck it up, that is.

“You wouldn’t betray me, would you, Robin?” I ask, my eyes still fixed on that alabaster sliver of Titaine’s gatehouse. “You owe your allegiance to me.”

“I was born fae,” Robin says cautiously. “I am fae.”

“But?”

“Titaine gifted me to you like a bride brings a cord of firewood to her new home for luck. I am not an object. You know where I stand on this subject.”

“And yet you still think I go too far.”

“You are

going too far,“ the puk replies, very firmly. There is enough rebuke in his tone to almost make me flinch.

When he speaks his next words, I actually do flinch.

“If you were harboring any hope of reuniting with Titaine, you’re about to lose it for good. She’ll never forgive you for this.”

I try to laugh lightly, my face a little tighter as I keep it pointed at the window. “Titaine doesn’t forgive. I think we’re all aware of that by now. There is no chance we would ever be together again.”

“That’s where I think you’re wrong.”

As much as I want to hide whatever feelings my face would betray, I find myself wheeling to face Robin. “What do you mean?”

Robin’s smile is tight-lipped. “You held a fae heart once. You should know how fickle our hearts can be—how changing. You think she would never forgive you. It is the elves who are slow to change.”

He isn’t wrong. I’ve fought many a bloody battle, all because my people were unwilling to change their minds.

Even with wood elf and dark elf heritage in equal amounts, and proving myself in battle after battle, it took years to unify the elves.

Even now, there are stubborn holdouts dotting the Western and Middle Cross.

“I know Titaine’s heart,” I say, “and it is cold, and obstinate. The only person who ever had Titaine’s heart is Titaine herself.”

“Peculiar, isn’t it? I think she’d say the same about you.”

I run my fingers back through my hair, dislodging the short, dark locks rather than straightening them.

They hang over my forehead, almost covering my eyes.

Once I am in Nox, will I be able to grow it long again, like the country elves in their forests and swamps?

I’ve always preferred to keep it close-cropped, still battle-ready after all this time.

It’s only due to the all-consuming planning of this great move that it has grown as long as it is now. It suits me, though.

Oh, yes, I am indeed fond of myself, but not overly much like Titaine accuses. I would not be the leader I am if I did not believe in myself and have confidence.

It has

been a long time since I’ve thought of myself as handsome, though.

Logically, I know I am. I see how the elven maids smile at me, or catch snatches of them gossiping about me, not caring whether I hear; elven women are like that.

They want me for themselves, or for their daughters, nieces, cousins—I’ve no shortage of options.

Not since my pathetic attempt to find a wood elf consort—what Titaine would label my affair

—have I considered any of these options with any seriousness. When you were bonded to the most beautiful woman on the continent and she broke your bond and rejected you, it tends to damage one’s self-esteem.

It also leaves me with the belief that I won’t find love again. Nor should I. Once, I was so sure I had it, and it proved to be anything but true love.

To the Lower Gates with Titaine. I’m not changing my plans, any more than she would change her mind about me. The puk is trying to manipulate me, trying to bring out my weaker instincts.

I will never be weak in front of Titaine again. Never.

“My orders remain the same. We leave in the last moon hour, as planned, without Titaine and her people,” I announce, trying not to sound as though I’ve just now decided this once and for all. “You will ready the last of the cargo tonight and see it loaded onto Zephyr’s Bounty

before the final star hour is finished.”

Robin sketches a bow deep enough to hide his face from me. Convenient. “As you wish, my lord.”

It will

be as I wish. After the humiliation of losing the treaty with the House of Fetes, I’m finally getting revenge on Titaine. And she deserves it.

I am both a Houselord and dark elf king. She should never have broken her word to me. Even if she never wished to see my face again, the union of our Houses ought to have stood. Instead, she made me look the fool.

“Send word if you change your mind,” Robin calls over his shoulder as he leaves my study, a single brow raised impertinently.

“My mind is made up.”

“Is it?” Robin pauses in the doorway, his hand curled around the raised leaf pattern on its wooden trim. “My lord, if you thought any harder, flames might erupt from your ears.”

I snort. My mind feels very much like a fireswamp at the moment, so that would

be fitting. “Goodbye, Robin.”

“Goodbye, my lord.”

Yet Robin lingers there a moment longer, studying me, as if he thinks I’ll suddenly have a change of heart.

Is there a small, feeble part of me that wants him to be right?

That wishes Titaine’s heart weren’t one of stone, that there was a chance for us to start again?

Perhaps. But I could never truly love someone who could discard me so easily.

My heart might want one thing—even after all this time—but this fireswamp of a mind demands I do the opposite.

With one final nod, Robin is gone.

It is all for the best. Unless Titaine and the House of Fetes are more resourceful than I believe, there is a strong chance I’ll never see Titaine’s face again.

All the same, it doesn’t seem likely I’ll ever forget it.