Chapter 3 #3
The truth was, he could have finished everything in five minutes flat.
Ten, if he really took his time. But some part of him didn’t want this to go quickly or to be efficient.
He wanted it to last. There were so few moments in his life not ruled by protocol or purpose.
This was something else. Beth, in her dirt-smeared shorts and sunburnt shoulders, peeling fruit and ignoring his title like it meant nothing.
He could’ve shown off more. Instead, he peeled. Slowly. Deliberately. Because this was the closest he’d come to peace in months, and he wasn’t about to cut it short.
They spent the next few hours working steadily together.
The sun dipped lower, turning the garden into a wash of gold and amber.
The air cooled just enough to raise goosebumps, not enough to send them inside.
The scent of fruit, herbs, sugar, and earth lingered in the air.
Laughter. Quiet conversation. A few stretches of easy silence.
The evening unfolded gently, one small moment at a time.
And one small moment at the time, Beth had relaxed.
Not completely, she was still Beth, but the sharp edges had softened. The barbs tucked away for now. Obviously used to doing everything herself, she didn’t fight his presence. She let him be there.
And Gael... Gael had lost track of time, and for once, he didn’t care.
She was funny, direct, and honest in a way that cut through all the practiced conversations and veiled intentions he usually dealt with. There was no performance. No attempt to impress, seduce, or use him. No awe, no deference.
Beth treated him like a male in her garden, peeling fruit.
It was absurdly refreshing.
And his thoughts, treacherous things, kept drifting to the dirt beneath their feet and all the deeply indecent, deeply satisfying things they could do on it.
He tamped them down.
But stars, they simmered.
OKAY, SO HE WAS USEFUL, Beth thought.
Of course he was. It was hard not to be, coming from that family.
But between pure power and who knew what else he had tucked in that magic inventory of his, it was hard thinking of him lounging in his chair, sipping hard cider, while apples peeled themselves, and cores and peels neatly cleaned themselves away.
She kind of wished she’d seen that. And now rows and rows of brightly filled jars were ready to be boiled.
And okay, he’d ended up being pleasant.
What started as irritation–with a generous splash of loathing–had worn down over the hours.
Because, somehow, he wasn’t the jerk she’d expected.
In fact, he was unreasonably tolerant of her prickliness.
He’d taken her snark in stride and matched it with irony and patience.
They’d talked. About nothing much. The weather, her job, which, while not glamorous, gave her a sense of comfort and community.
About his latest project that had launched him into an unexpectedly enthusiastic monologue with hand gestures and glints in the eyes.
Despite herself, she’d gotten caught up in.
Who would’ve thought proud, taciturn Gael could be like that?
She hadn’t intended to let him in. Heavens, no.
Her plan had been to tolerate him for Elara’s sake, keep it polite, then move on.
Because Elara and Aryon mattered, and Beth wasn’t about to start throwing shade at their family.
And maybe, she’d figured anyone they cared for couldn’t be entirely horrible.
Even if said someone had, until now, carried himself like his spine was made of ice.
And okay, okay. He was gorgeous.
Ash blond hair so pale it gleamed silver in the fading light pulled back in thin tresses that left those pointed ears in full view.
Eyes bluer than a glacier with a flicker of violet hiding in their depths like some kind of secret.
His lean and strong body, too graceful to be fair, moved with the easy precision of someone who’d been trained in everything from swordplay to diplomacy to how to make a casual lean against a fence look like a declaration of divine right.
He wasn’t eye candy. Candy was too basic.
He was the cake you see behind glass at fancy patisseries, coated in glossy ganache, decorated with gold leaf and red gooseberries.
But then you take a bite, and it’s surprisingly grounded.
Real. Not overly sweet but rich and scrumptious. It hit differently.
And that made her wary.
Because it didn’t line up with what she thought she knew about him. At all.
He rose, stretching slightly as he took in the result of the day’s work. “I guess we got you all caught up.”
“I am,” she said, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek. “Thank you. Seriously.”
Shadows lay long over the grass, deepening the green.
At the edges of the sky, purple bruised the darkening blue.
The first stars blinked into view. “I’ll be in town for a couple of weeks longer,” he said, hands shoved in his pockets, voice unexpectedly unsure.
“I had vacation days I had to use. I figured I could spend them here. I haven’t been to Diamond Lake in years, and it’s spectacular this time of year. ”
Beth tilted her head, catching the shift in him. He looked almost self-conscious, like he didn’t quite know what to do with his hands or his words. His gaze was too focused on the horizon. “How about we go together?” he added. “Some incline, but it’s an easy hike. Three to four hours, tops.”
Beth blinked. She’d heard the words. Understood each one.
And yet, her brain refused to translate them into anything reasonable.
“I wouldn’t necessarily trust your idea of ‘easy,’ considering you’re an elf,” she said slowly.
“But yes, I know the trail. It’s beautiful.
Is anyone else coming? Other humans? Maybe an out-of-shape magik or two? ”
“No,” he said simply. “Just you and I.”
Oh.
Oh?
Ohhhhhh.
There was no way to misinterpret that, and no logical reason for it, either. Her brow furrowed. “But... why?”
He blinked, confused. “What do you mean, why? This is one of the best afternoons I’ve had in a long time. I enjoy spending time with you, and I’d like to do it again. What’s crazy about that?”
Where did she start?
They’d never shared more than clipped greetings and passive-aggressive glances before today. He’d flat-out insulted her. And Bryn. That story still sat like grit under her skin. “Well,” she said, narrowing her eyes, “everything is crazy about that.”
His beautiful mouth tightened. “Name one.”
One? She had ten. Without trying. But she went with the obvious, the one that summed up the entire ridiculousness of this interaction. “I’m human,” she said bluntly. “And you’re basically a prince.”
His jaw set, and that noble chin rose. Instantly, he became a High Elf again—regal, rigid, and very pissed off. “And?”
“And elves like you don’t mix with, well, anyone else.”
He paused. The look he gave her wasn’t angry or even amused. Just hard and cold with something deeper beneath it. “You should start forming your opinions based on first-hand knowledge,” he said, “not rumors.”
She flinched, because there it was. The crack. The elephant in the room they had managed to keep hidden for the afternoon. “It’s not a rumor,” she said, voice sharp. “It’s from the person who went through the heartbreak.”
His nostrils flared. “His heart wasn’t the part of his body involved,” he said flatly. “I can assure you of that.”
“So you don’t deny it? You broke them apart because she was High Family and he wasn’t.”
“I don’t deny doing what I was expected to do,” he said, voice low and tight. “What honor and justice demanded.”
Her temper flared like a match to dry straw. “Honor?” she snapped. “You mean the kind of thing that keeps power in the hands of the already powerful? That’s not honor. That’s just a convenient excuse to dictate other people’s lives and feel okay about it.”
His head snapped back like she’d struck him. Pain, sharp and raw, flickered across his face before he shut it down. He swallowed. “I see,” he said, voice quiet. He stepped back. His hands were no longer in his pockets but clenched at his sides. “Have a good evening, Beth.”
He turned and walked away.
The wind stirred as he left, catching her hair and whispering through the trees. The last slant of sunlight dipped behind the ridge. Moments ago, the garden had been full of life. Now it felt empty, like something good had been taken with him.
She stood still as the first cool breath of night slid over her skin.
And watched him disappear into the gathering dark.