Chapter 9
“Any day can be pleasant if you let it.”
— A Seelie Guide to Happiness
Part of me expected this meeting to be awkward. I’m not sure what it is, but the stress I used to feel in Maddox’s presence has vanished. Probably because I know for certain he isn’t looking for more. For something I’ll never be able to give him.
I cut a piece of pie and take a bite. Exquisite.
Maddox does the same. The muscles in his jaw roll as he chews, and it shouldn’t be erotic— it’s just a jaw— but, heavens, does the sight of it make my stomach flutter.
Where is this feeling coming from? Am I really that starved for male companionship, or did I just never notice Maddox’s fine jaw because I was too focused on Nolan?
This is bad.
No, it’s not.
I won’t let it be.
I can admit Maddox Finch might be handsomer than previously thought as long as the confession remains in my mind and doesn’t accidentally spill out to make things awkward between us once more.
I stab another piece and stuff it between my lips. “Well? What do you think?”
He nods, an appreciative hum rumbling from his chest. “You were not telling tales. This is the best blueberry pie I have ever eaten.”
Which might not be saying much. From what I’ve witnessed of the Unseelie diet, I can’t imagine him eating many blueberries, let alone blueberry pies.
While I eat, I study my companion—making a point not to watch his jaw. His dark gaze seems to bounce from one table to the next. From the flowers to the bees to the sky, never remaining in one place for too long.
His throat bobs when he swallows, and heaven help me, even that is doing something to my stomach.
What has become of me?
This must be a normal reaction after being in a committed relationship for so long.
Except, when I glance around the café at the other men, even those who happen to be conventionally attractive don’t hold my attention like the Unseelie across from me.
I need a distraction. A conversation about some inane topic before I do something silly and tell Maddox that he has a nice jaw and even nicer throat.
“Does the sugar in the pie bother you at all?” The book Kerris had about Unseelie claimed they couldn’t eat sweet things because of some trouble with their stomachs.
He shakes his head and takes another bite.
Interesting. What else did the book get wrong?
“Tell me about yourself, Maddox.”
He blinks at me as the breeze toys with the ends of his hair. “What do you wish to know?”
If you kill as often as the books claim. If you are truly unbothered by the cold. If your tongue really feels like sandpaper. “How old are you?” That feels like a safe place to start.
“I have been alive for thirty years.”
The same age as Everett, then. “When’s your birthday?” It seems only fair to know when he tricked me into telling him mine.
“Either the tenth or the eleventh of January. My mother and father could never agree.”
Strange. “Any brothers or sisters?”
His lips flatten, and he sets down his fork, abandoning what remains of the pie. For some silly reason, thinking he’s not going to finish the dessert feels like a personal slight.
I truly am losing my mind.
“Unseelie are only allowed one child.”
Now that he mentions it, I do remember the book saying something like that. I also remember there being terrible inaccurate drawings of the Unseelie covered in hair.
The only hair Maddox has seems to be on his head.
There were other drawings as well. Drawings I should not be thinking about in this moment.
“Is there anything you would like to know about me?” This isn’t an interview; the questions really should go both ways.
Then again, maybe he’s not interested in me or my life.
Do they have books about us as well? Any misconceptions? Drawings?
“I already know you are turning twenty-five on the twenty-fourth of August. You have no brothers or sisters, and you have a cousin named Kerris Dawn and one named Theo. Your father counts coins, and your mother pretends to die each time she sees me.”
Well, that is considerably more than I know about him.
“That is one thing I can ask about,” he says. “Why does she do that?”
I’m not even sure anymore. She’s not fooling anyone with her awful acting skills. “You can be quite intimidating. With your sharp teeth and your . . . largeness.” The first time I caught a glimpse of them at the well, I nearly fainted myself.
“Yet another reason not to pursue a Seelie fae, do you not agree?”
I don’t know anymore. The teeth are disconcerting, especially at first. But after you realize none of the Unseelie are interested in eating Seelie for supper, they aren’t quite as terrifying.
Kerris certainly doesn’t seem to mind being mated to one. She even let Everett mark her with his teeth—something that is apparently customary in Unseelie unions. Mating bonds, they call them.
Maddox doesn’t appear to have any marks.
At least not yet.
“Will you bite her?”
His eyes widen beneath his furrowed brow. “Your mother?”
“No! Your mate.” Imagine Maddox biting Cordelia Quill. That might actually kill her.
He reaches for the sugar shaker, turning the fluted crystal over in his hands. “There is no guarantee that she will agree to be my mate.”
I don’t see why she wouldn’t. His company is downright pleasant when he’s not toting around smelly goats. And maybe it wasn’t the wine that made me confess to Kerris that I found him handsome.
Maddox Finch is uniquely attractive, with his strong nose and square chin and extremely pointed ears. I might even like the black rings that climb his lobes and the bone necklace around his neck. Lends an air of danger to the whole ensemble.
Not that my opinion matters.
Blowing out a breath, he sets the shaker back where it belongs. “We have been taught that it is an honor to mark one’s mate. Although not all allow this. Some believe the practice vulgar.”
“Really?” I think there’s something strangely erotic about the idea. The permanence of it all. Rings can be removed, but a mating scar? That would be with you forever.
“Some are not enamored with their partners and only mate to bring new life into this world, as is their duty to our clan.”
I would hate that, being mated to someone I didn’t love just for the “greater good.” Doesn’t seem fair at all, if you ask me.
“It is not the same for Seelie fae.” His gaze dances along my throat and collarbone, as if searching my skin for marks.
He can look all he wants, but he won’t find any. I’m not even sure I would have allowed Nolan to bite me if it was customary, which is a good thing since we’re no longer together.
The fact doesn’t hurt as much as it did a few days ago.
Best not to think too hard about why that might be. “That’s right. Our rings are our mating bonds.”
“Will you give your Nolan a ring on the anniversary of your birth?”
Nolan isn’t mine. Not anymore. Not ever again.
“We’ll see.” Now to change the direction of this conversation so I don’t end up confessing my woes in the middle of a crowded café. This day isn’t about me; it’s about Maddox securing a love of his own. “Do you mind me asking what’s so special about the woman you’re hoping to win over?”
He splays his hands atop the lace tablecloth once more. When he looks at me from across the table, there’s an emotion I can’t quite place in his depthless black eyes.
“Many reasons. Some easier to explain than others. She is the most beguiling fae my eyes have ever seen,” he says.
“I feel like the luckiest of males whenever I catch even a glimpse of her. She is intelligent and quick of wit. When I am around her, my heart beats fast, like I have run a hundred hunting trails. And yet . . .” Maddox falls silent while my mind whirls, desperate for more.
“And yet?” I urge, enraptured by the depth of his affection.
Maddox’s gaze captures mine. Holds. “Yet, there is also a calmness in her presence. For most of my life, my mind has tended to wander, but when she is near, the world and its many distractions fall silent and still.”
Heavens, that’s so beautiful.
What must it be like to be loved so thoroughly?
Emotion thickens my voice when I finally find the words to respond. “Make sure you tell her that.”
Everyone deserves to feel so special.
Maddox collects his fork and finishes the rest of his pie, which makes me far happier than it should. When both of our plates are empty, he insists on paying, and then we leave the café.
I expect him to go toward the bridge, but instead he starts for the road leading to the castle.
“Are you not going to The Divide?” He seemed so anxious before. What’s changed?
“Tomorrow is soon enough. I must check on my Biscuits.”
Seeing how much he cares for that ugly little beast is sort of sweet. I find myself falling into step beside him even though it’s in the opposite direction of my house. Going back is at the bottom of my list of desires at present. “How did you even end up with a goat in the first place?”
“On one of my outings in your lands, I came upon a lone goat in a field full of tall grass. He followed me all the way back to the castle gardens.”
I catch his arm, forgetting for a second that he wears no shirt until my fingers hit bare skin. He stills, and I drop my hand, ignoring the strange tingling in my fingers. “Wait. Are you saying you stole some poor farmer’s livestock?”
He’s too busy frowning at his arm to notice me swipe my still-tingling palm down my skirts.
“Biscuits was not stolen. I returned to the field and spoke with the farmer there. He was very cross because my Biscuits was filling his little belly with his crops. He said he never wanted to see ‘that damn goat’ ever again. I brought Biscuits to my home so he would not be lonely.”
Who would’ve thought such an imposing Unseelie warrior would have such a soft heart? “Why did you name him Biscuits?”
The tips of his ears darken beneath the rings he wears, and he drops his gaze to the cobbles beneath his feet. “It is a silly reason.”
“Well, now you have to tell me.”
“Ever has said that the biscuits Kerris Dawn gave him were the best thing to ever happen to him.”
Hold on. “Are you saying a goat is the best thing to happen to you?”
He shrugs. “Biscuits chose to follow me over all the other fae. It is a pleasant feeling, being chosen.”
He’s right. Being chosen might be one of the best feelings in the whole world. “Your Unseelie will choose you too.” I can feel it in my gut. If he shows her even half of the charm he’s shown me today, she’ll fall hard and fast. They’ll probably be married before I turn twenty-five.
“Do you think so?”
“She would be a fool not to.”
His small, almost self-conscious smile warms me all the way to my toes.
We say our goodbyes, him returning to his goat, and me returning to an empty cottage, wondering if I should find myself a pet for company.