45. Chapter 45
I t had been two days since the Vaelaran Solthaine ball, and Ren’s mind kept circling back to the fae male she’d learned was named Cairis.
She hated how easily he crept back into her thoughts. Hated that when she pictured him now, she wanted nothing more than to have knocked him flat on his ass in front of the entire hall.
Worse, she hated that Lucan had been the one to intervene. She could handle street brawls, being mugged in the streets, even the sting of steel at her ribs. But the intimacy of Cairis pressing in, trying to force something that wasn’t his to take had felt different.
Violating .
Ren used Cairis’ face to drive her training today, striking harder, faster, until sweat stung her eyes. Blow after blow, she imagined knocking the smirk from him. Her sparring partners muttered under their breaths, grumbling at the ferocity she unleashed.
Her boots dragged against the marble floor now. She stopped in front of her chamber door, shoulders sagging. Her body ached from hours of sparring, being thrown to the ground more times than she cared to count.
But the pain was a welcome distraction. Training meant purpose. It meant sharp focus. It meant remembering exactly why she was here .
Last night was a grim reminder that she’d let herself get too close to the fae. Laughter over wine with the princess, all those quiet moments in the library – it had almost convinced her that the line between human and fae could blur and that maybe she wasn’t just a pawn on their board.
She should’ve known better.
Here, she was a tool to be deployed when it served them. And the moment she wasn’t useful?
They’d toss her aside.
She stepped inside her room and –
Crunch .
Brow arching, she found a single folded letter beneath her boot, the parchment delicately pressed and sealed in dark wax. Her name had been scrawled in elegant, looping cursive.
Ren,
I trust you haven’t managed to set anything on fire today.
The court is insufferably dull this time of day, and I find myself craving something more stimulating. Join me for afternoon tea in the greenhouse. I’ve had the staff prepare something simple. I thought it might suit your taste.
Try not to keep me waiting. I detest cold tea.
Regards,
Princess Kaelin Vaelan
P.S. Wear something that doesn’t reek of sweat. The roses are delicate.
Ren stared at the letter like it might catch flame in her hands. Her stomach twisted, equal parts dread and reluctant intrigue. She set the note down on the small table beside her armchair and sank into it with a groan, yanking off her dirt-caked boots and letting them fall with a thud.
“Rough day?” Mirella asked.
Ren let her head tip back. “Surprisingly, no. Had a lovely time getting bruised and battered by fae twice my size and age.” She lifted the letter, waving it like a white flag. “But now I’ve been summoned to afternoon tea by the princess.”
“Princess Kaelin invited you personally?”
“Unfortunately. Would I survive the political fallout if I ignored it?”
“Likely not. If she’s requested you directly, there’s a reason.”
Ren groaned. “That’s exactly why I don’t want to go. I spent all day in the training yard. The last thing I want is to spar with Kaelin over pastries, no matter how good they taste.”
Mirella purred, “Perhaps she’ll bring wine?”
Ren gave a dry laugh, already imagining Kaelin pouring her a glass with that infuriating smirk. “She’s such a royal pain in my ass.”
“And you, darling, reek. I’d recommend a bath before you insult the roses into wilting. They’re delicate.”
Ren shot the wardrobe a glare, though the edge of her mouth tugged upward. “Are enchanted wardrobes always this brutally honest?”
“I’m one of a kind, darling.”
The greenhouse was bathed in golden light, the high glass panes casting soft shadows over vines that curled in delicate tendrils.
Blossoms in shades of blood-red and deep violet hung from the ceiling in perfumed clusters, their petals trembling in the gentle breeze wafting through the open archways.
Ren stepped through the doorway cautiously. The scent of jasmine and something sharper, maybe starroot, laced the air. Ahead, a table waited under a flowering arc of moonvine, two chairs tucked beneath its silver-inlaid frame. The teapot was already steaming.
And seated like she belonged to the garden itself was Kaelin. She wore a silk blouse in white with delicate embroidery at the cuffs. Her hair was half-bound with a pin shaped like a thorned rose. She tilted her head in greeting.
“I was beginning to think you’d decline,” she remarked, lifting her teacup without breaking eye contact.
“I thought about it,” Ren replied dryly, sliding into the seat across from her. “But curiosity won.”
“Dangerous thing, that.” Kaelin poured Ren a cup of tea. “Some people lose their heads over it.”
“I’m not most people.”
“No,” Kaelin admitted softly, as if tasting the words. “You’re not. ”
For a few moments, they sipped in silence. Birds flitted past the glass above them, and somewhere, a fountain murmured.
An assortment of pastries rested on a tiered stand beside it, flaky fruit tarts, miniature cakes glazed to a glossy perfection, sugared lavender biscuits arranged in a spiral.
The entire spread looked like something plucked from a dream.
Ren shifted in her seat, trying and failing not to wrinkle her nose as the garden’s earthy and floral scent thickened around her. Before she could stop herself, a sneeze burst from her, muffled hastily into the crook of her elbow.
Across the table, Kaelin’s brow lifted. “I did warn the gardeners about the valerian,” Kaelin mused, gaze drifting over the blossoms behind Ren. “It bloomed early this year.”
Ren narrowed her eyes, half-wondering if Kaelin had orchestrated this whole setting just to see how she’d squirm. “Just the air,” she muttered, blinking against the prickle in her eyes.
Kaelin tilted her head, lips curving. “Let me know if you start swelling. I’d hate for you to miss dessert.”
Ren met Kaelin’s gaze across the table, studying the delicate arch of her brow, the way her teacup hovered just shy of her lips, as if she were more interested in watching than sipping.
Ren fought the urge to rub her eyes. The scent still clung, invisible fingers wrapping around her throat, and the mention of valerian made her wonder just how many of these blooms had been chosen specifically to get under her skin.
“Noted,” Ren managed dryly, sniffling once. “Next time I’ll bring an elixir or a plague mask.”
“How charmingly dramatic.”
Ren leaned forward, pretending not to notice the way Kaelin’s gaze tracked her every movement.
She plucked a small tart from the pastry tray, something with a glazed fruit center and a sugared crust too delicate for her calloused fingers.
She took a bite. It was sweet, buttery, and infuriatingly good.
“Well?” Kaelin asked. “Did it pass your taste test?”
Ren licked a crumb from her thumb. “You get points for sugar and for not poisoning me.”
Kaelin laughed. “The afternoon is still young. ”
The sound caught Ren off guard. Kaelin’s eyes sparkled when she laughed, and the hard lines of her face softened. Ren found herself savoring the sound. It was unexpected, light, and far too rare.
“Tell me something about you,” Kaelin set down her cup. “Something real. Not whatever polite nonsense people give me.”
“What makes you think I know how to be polite?”
“You’re doing a decent impression.”
Ren hesitated, her fingers brushing the rim of her cup before she set it aside.
The request was simple, yet it pressed against places she rarely let anyone see.
For a heartbeat, a memory flickered – herself as a girl, perched on the edge of her narrow bed, carefully twining a stolen ribbon through her braids.
The frayed satin was too bright, too fine for her, but in that moment, it made her feel softer, girlish, almost beautiful.
“I used to steal hair ribbons from the market. I rarely wore them, just kept them in a box under my bed like some idiot hoarding color. We could never afford things like that – not when every coin went to rum… whiskey… whatever bottle my parents could get their hands on.”
Kaelin didn’t laugh, and she didn’t joke. She merely drank in the words for a moment. Then, she asked softly, “Did they at least feed you?”
Ren looked up, surprised by the gentleness in Kaelin’s voice. She shrugged again, but this time it wasn’t bravado – just a simple truth. “When they remembered.”
Kaelin’s brows knit, and her jaw tensed. After a moment, she murmured, “Surely, you deserved more than stolen ribbons stuffed in a box.”
“Yeah, well. Stolen things were the only ones that ever felt mine.”
Kaelin leaned forward slightly, her voice low. “I used to tell myself you were reckless. Which you are, but it was easier than admitting the truth – that what you’ve fought for, I’ve been handed.” Her gaze softened. “I was wrong about you.”
“Didn’t think I’d live long enough to hear you say you were wrong.”
“I seldom misjudge others. It’s a skill I pride myself on. And yet with you, I missed the mark entirely.”
“Careful,” Ren leaned back, crossing her arms, and grappling for levity. “You sound like you’re starting to actually like me.”
“What if I am?”
Gone was the glimmer of jest in Kaelin’s gaze; what remained was truth, stripped raw and startling .
Ren held her gaze, her heart drumming a war-song in her ears. “Should I be flattered?”
“You think everything’s a joke when you’re scared.”
Ren turned her hand, studying her nails with exaggerated interest. “I’m not scared.”
“You run from what’s real the second it gets too close.”
Ren stiffened, amber eyes meeting violet eyes. “Real? You wouldn’t recognize it from behind all those practiced smiles of yours. Don’t fool yourself into thinking you know me.”
Kaelin inhaled as if steadying herself, then leaned in just enough that Ren felt pinned by her presence alone. “But I want to know you, and it terrifies you. Doesn’t it?”
Ren set her fork down with a soft clink .
“Since the moment I stepped foot here, you’ve made it your sport to cut me down every chance you get.
And just when I think we might actually be able to stand in the same room without drawing blood, you turn cold, like I’m carrying the plague itself.
” Ren leaned back hard, letting the chair creak beneath her as she hooked her elbow over the back and pulled one knee to her chin, flaunting the posture she knew would scandalize any court-born noble.
“All right. Enough dancing around. What are you really after?”
“I mocked you because you were nobody showing up on our doorstep. We knew nothing about your background, where you came from, or what your motive was. Now, my motive is clear.” Her fingers tapped lightly against her knuckle, her jaw locking like she’d chosen her next move with ruthless certainty.
“But I know exactly what I want now.” A pause. “ You .”
Ren’s heart stuttered. “You-you’re joking.” But even she heard how thin the accusation sounded.
The silence that followed was charged, coiled like the moment before a lightning strike.
Goosebumps rose on Ren’s arm as her chest rose and fell. She tried to look away, to douse the heat creeping up her neck. “I didn’t ask for your attention,” she finally managed to whisper. “And I’m not sure I want it, not if it’s another game.”
Kaelin’s features flickered. “This isn’t a game.”
Still, Ren fought to keep her voice steady. “You’re fae , and I’m human. ”
Kaelin reached for her anyway, one hand tentative but deliberate, fingers brushing Ren’s as if to anchor her there.
Kaelin’s expression softened, her fury ebbing. “You don’t have to be anything but who you are, Flameborne or not, I don’t care.”
“You speak like you already know me,” Ren whispered.
“I know some parts of you,” Kaelin admitted, her thumb grazing the back of Ren’s knuckles. “But that’s not enough. I want to know all of you.”
“If I let you in,” Ren said quietly, “you might regret it.”
Kaelin leaned closer, her eyes never leaving Ren. “Then let me regret you with my whole damn heart.” Kaelin’s eyes flicked down to Ren’s lips and then back up, as if giving Ren the chance to pull away.
Ren didn’t.
The air between them seemed to condense into something heavy and fragile and utterly combustible. Kaelin closed the space with aching slowness, her other hand rising to cup the side of Ren’s jaw, fingers calloused and warm from the tea.
Her lips brushed Ren’s in question.
Ren’s breath hitched, her eyes fluttering shut as she leaned in, her mouth answering before her thoughts could catch up. The kiss was soft, like Kaelin was afraid Ren would vanish if she pressed too hard. It was careful and reverent and –
Gods.
Kaelin made a sound in the back of her throat, something low and full of wanting.
In one swift motion, Kaelin’s heel caught the table leg and shoved it aside, wood skidding across the stone floor. Before Ren could react, Kaelin’s hand closed around her wrist, tugging her forward, until she was caught against her.
Kaelin’s hand slipped to the back of Ren’s neck, the other at her waist, and she pulled Ren into her lap with a fluid motion that made Ren gasp against her lips.
The kiss deepened, all breath and hunger now, Kaelin’s mouth fierce and demanding as if she was making up for every cruel word, every biting insult she’d thrown since Ren’s arrival.
Ren gripped Kaelin’s shoulders to steady herself, knees bracketing the princess’s thighs. “You’re—” Ren began, breaking just enough to draw breath. “ You’re so damn infuriating.”
Kaelin only smirked against Ren’s mouth. “So are you. And if you think that’s going to stop me…” Her thumb dragged softly along Ren’s hip. “...you really don’t know me yet.”