Page 7 of This Midsummer Heart (Seasons of Legend #4)

Chapter seven

Bramble Circle

Auberon

M

y

feet

drag

as

I follow the wild fae leading us, elven bows slung over their backs as they lead us to Bramble Circle. My horse clops along behind me, tossing his head as I guide him toward the fae circle. I had always thought horses sympathetic animals, but this one seems to miss the rising tension in my body.

I am remembering just how little I enjoy the wild fae. And that the feeling is mutual.

No wonder Titaine tricked me into thinking we’d spend the night at Coronette Circle. It’s true that the fae there are so much more civilized, but the biggest mark in their favor is the fact that they aren’t holding a perceived slight from my wedding to Titaine over my head.

Even now, it’s clear that the free fae of Evermore Forest haven’t gotten over that. The blade at my throat is just the beginning. These fae never forget a slight. And I mean never.

There is no shortage of laughter at my expense as the local fae lead us back to their circular settlement woven in among the trees.

I’m tired enough to forget their attempts to humiliate me the moment I spot their houses.

At last, rest is just steps away. The homes of Bramble Circle are built into the earth in the wild fae style, thatched by moss, rising just high enough above ground level to furnish the homes with windows.

Stone chimneys that puffed merrily when last I was here are now quiet and cold, and for good reason.

This forest is dense enough that the air is stifling.

These accommodations will be humble, but after a long day of travel, they’ll feel like a palace.

“We’ll have a fine dinner tonight to celebrate your arrival,” the lead fae says, hooking her arm in Titaine’s as another fae takes her white mare’s reins.

“You shouldn’t trouble yourselves on our account when we’re just passing through,” Titaine replies, ever the diplomat.

“Nonsense! It’s all prepared.”

Prepared?

As in Titaine had time enough to write to them when we only set the itinerary last night? I catch my teeth grinding together on one side as I realize she must’ve planned this while I was still abed. After years of marriage to a fae, you’d think I’d see through her tricks by now.

This is going to be a long night.

At last, one of the wild fae remembers to take my horse as one of their “Speakers” arrives to greet us. Or, rather, to greet Titaine and roll her eyes at me.

The Speaker—one of the wild fae’s wisewomen leaders—shows us to a guest cabin, where the air is damp but cool enough to provide relief.

I have to duck to enter, but once I do the sweat turns clammy on my skin and some of the tension uncoils from my chest. I can’t deny how appealing the homey little bed on the other side of the room looks to me—even if it is a foot too short for me.

“I think I’ll rest before dinner,” I say over the continuing conversation. No one notices. They’re discussing crop yields now—the chestnut trees in this grove are part of the wild fae diet.

Another thing I don’t care for about the wild fae: their cooking. I think of the blueberry pie I scented earlier in the day with more longing than ever.

Come to think of it, I need rest much more than a hot meal with such company. There’s plenty of cheese in my pack if I get hungry. I could just sleep through dinner.

I shuffle my feet across the common sitting area with bedroom doors on three sides, ducking under the timbered frame and choosing a room for myself. No one even comments as I shut the door. And lock it.

It’s best, I think, to hide out in here for the night. For while the elves will still receive Titaine as they would me, I am not guaranteed the same treatment from the fae.

As I fit myself into the wild fae-sized bed, the journey to the City of Nox suddenly feels twice as long.

I pause in the doorway of the guest room I slept in last night, watching the golden morning light swirl through Titaine’s ephemeral wings. She’s busy sorting something—reorganizing her pack, no doubt. I don’t think she heard me open my door.

I take a moment to observe her, not quite sure what I’m feeling.

The woman I loved and was ready to devote the rest of my days to is right there, on the other side of this common room.

It’s almost strange to think we were once as close as that, when we are so distant now.

I still know her well. Yet neither of us are the same as we were five years past, making her part stranger, part intimate acquaintance.

I probably shouldn’t think of her as even that. She effectively banished me from her life when she broke the bond between us and the treaty between our Houses.

Whatever tender feelings I was tiptoeing on the edge of vanish when I see her set a sizable purse on her bed. That can’t be real. Can it? Was I wrong in my estimates of the House of Fetes’ wealth? I was supposed to be bankrupting them—delivering the final blow to a rival House.

That bag of coins says otherwise. It’s yet another thing I’ve been wrong about. This, at least, I can remedy.

I duck under the low doorway of my room, crossing the sitting room between us in a handful of strides. “Let me see that.”

“Auberon!” Titaine whirls as I snatch the embroidered coin purse from atop her bed. Though she reaches for it, fluttering her wings with all her might, she has no chance of grasping it as I dangle it above my head.

The coins clink gently as they shift in their myriad little compartments.

It doesn’t sound like she brought much after all.

I frown as I examine the bag. It’s more like a coin belt, rolled into the shape of a purse.

When did the fae start using such designs?

I’m not sure the straps are long enough to secure to my scabbard’s belt.

The embroidered flowers aren’t exactly my style, either.

Returning to my own room, I begin to shake out all the contents, sensing the threads of a fragile enchantment snapping. Titaine is right behind me, spouting off about how villainous I am.

“Just what do you think you’re doing? That’s my money—you have no right! It belongs to the House of Fetes!”

I shake my head at the meager assortment of coins, some from different currencies we could use along our way. Truly, I succeeded in bankrupting the House of Fetes with my scheme.

As I count the coins, I began to unbutton my vest.

“What are you doing now?” Titaine demands.

“Relax. I’m still wearing my mail.”

“Pointless, sleeveless mail,” she grumbles. I ignore her.

I begin slipping them inside the hidden pockets sewn inside my vest. Now that my plan has backfired, this victory over the House of Fetes feels hollow.

Or maybe it’s more than that. After inheriting generations of feuding and competition for dominance in Laufee, losing the House of Elves’ only worthy opponent leaves me feeling a touch directionless.

It used to be easy to lead, before and after my mate-bond with Titaine. Whatever would irritate—or better yet, actively harm the House of Fetes—was always the right choice. Now I have none of that. Not even a gorgeous fae bride to warm my bed and make the idle hours pleasant.

My task now complete, I begin to gather the rest of my things, only to find an angry little fairy blocking me.

Titaine’s hands are on her hips. “That’s my money. Give it back.”

“You don’t even handle your own accounting. It’s better off with me.”

“I don’t handle my own books because it irritates me, not because I’m incapable! Give it back, Auberon.”

“Then I’m saving you the irritation.”

“You’re the irritation!” She huffs dramatically, knocking my arm away when I reach for the pack atop the rustic wooden dresser. “If you don’t give it back, I’ll place an enchantment on you.”

“Darling, do you really think you have the magic to waste on such petty things?”

“I have more than you could ever dream of.” There it is—that twitch of the muscle along her temple, slightly tilting her brow. She’s furious, and not wearing a glamour to hide it.

What a fine way to start the day.

“Do your worst,” I challenge her, pushing her arm aside. “Better yet, get ready to leave. I’m not interested in breaking fast with a bunch of wild fae who hate me.”

Her eyes grow round. I spot a double twitch at her temple. “They’re our hosts!” she hisses. “How dare you disrespect them! They didn’t need to help us.”

“My dear Titaine, have you forgotten that everything is transactional? It’s a lesson you taught me. They helped us because they want a free ride to Nox once we get the runeships back in order.”

I expect her to shout at me. Instead, Titaine regards me for one long moment, in which I can almost feel her rage simmering. Then she turns and glides toward the front door without so much as a huffy sigh.

Titaine, you’ve changed. I think I liked my temperamental old adversary better.

But then, much to my relief, she pauses in her retreat, pivoting sharply to face me again.

Her eyes narrow at me and my still unbuttoned vest—she can’t resist looking—as she retorts, “Just so we’re clear, breakfast was an hour before dawn, and you weren’t invited.

The wild fetes feasted me like one of their own departing, not because they wanted something, but because I’ve spent years repairing relations between my House and their tribe. Relations you

damaged. While you were still drooling on your pillow, I was sorting how our mutual aid would continue once the House of Fetes moves to Nox.

“Get over yourself, Auberon. It isn’t cute when the incorrigible young elven leader makes stupid mistakes and loses friendships. And no one thinks you’re young anymore.”

My hands tighten into fists around my traveling pack. “I do not drool.”

Titaine rolls her eyes and leaves, exiting in a whirl of white silk.

Well. Not the fun morning I thought this would be. I’m obviously in for more tense silence, adding to the tedium of our journey.

I sigh, scratching the back of my head in vigorous annoyance—I’m beginning to think the wild fae gave us lodgings with fleas or bedbugs—and make up my mind. If the long hours of riding are going to be anywhere near tolerable, there is only one thing I can do:

I have to make peace with the wild fae, and quickly.