29. I Didn’t Sign Up For This
The rain eased, the relentless, icy pounding against my bare back fading to drizzle. Wrapped in Idris’ arms, I barely noticed the chill. His body heat soaked into me, and I clung to it, to him, unwilling to let go and brave the cold again. He held me right back.
I didn’t count the minutes as I trailed my fingers up and down his spine, trying to ignore the impressively muscled expanse, the dip running up its centre, and the little bumps within. It was strange to think that our two species were so similar, right down to the vertebrae, and yet so different. This male would live forever, long after I’d withered to dust. There was magic, actual magic in his veins. And yet, he felt pain just as much as any human. What had happened to the person who’d caused this grief? Had life simply taken her in a different direction, or had she died? The witches claimed fae were immortal, but I knew Idris’ father had died, leaving the throne vulnerable. I knew countless fae had been lost at Maelgwyn’s hands. Death came for them too, sometimes, and when it did, the people who loved them cried, just like the many stricken families who had brought their ailing pets to me, over my years of study.
Eventually, Idris’ breathing slowed, deepening, and it was only then that some of the tightness in my chest eased. He straightened at last, and if I’d expected him to pull away completely, to become awkward or full of bravado, I was wrong. His hands hovered at my ribs, as if he was worried I’d back away, but his eyes were soft.
“I haven’t been very nice to you,” he observed.
My mouth twitched into a smirk. Understatement of the century, or given his lifespan, the millennia. “That’s okay.” I’d glimpsed who he was under that cool, indifferent facade. Tonight, and the day of the funeral. He wielded his pain like a weapon, turned his sadness into a shield, but beneath it, I suspected someone sweet and caring lurked, waiting to be uncovered. Someone I could grow to like.
He shook his head. “No, it’s not. I’m sorry.” His hand drifted to my face, and when his fingers grazed along my jaw, to my ear, blood rushed to burn in their wake, a glowing trail.
I could barely breathe as I said, “Take me flying again when you’re sober, and I’ll forgive you.”
“Are you sober?” The disgusted accusation in his voice enticed a laugh from me.
“Yes, as a matter of fact, I am.”
“Why?”
“Anwir said–”
A long, cool finger pressed against my lips, silencing my voice and every thought in my head.
“I’m going to tell you a secret.” He blinked, as though struggling against the fairy wine for control over himself. When his eyes opened again, he leaned closer, and that finger still held my mouth. “It doesn’t matter what Anwir said.”
I huffed and dared to pull his hand away from my face. His fingers curled around mine, not squeezing, but sure and firm as our hands dropped, suspended between us.
“Try telling him that,” I groused. Why couldn’t I slacken my hold? Why did I make no move to let go? Why did my lips tingle with cold in the absence of his touch?
“Do you want to know another secret?”
Did I? Another dark revelation might be enough to tip my sanity over the edge. My mouth dried up at the thought of what new horror I was about to discover.
His eyes lifted to my hair, or maybe the tiara atop it. He peeled a sodden lock from my face, twirling it around his finger. “Your hair…”
I clenched my jaw, bracing myself for another insult or lecture on practicality, and readied my well-used retorts.
“It’s mesmerising.”
Surprise parted my lips. Idris let my sodden strands slide free of his grasp. He followed its movement, before shifting his drowsy gaze back to my face. “I don’t know how to look away.”
His hand, still held in mine, was a burning brand against my skin. I knew I should pull away, but I could have sooner sprouted wings and flew back to the human world. My world, I reminded myself. And I was going back to it.
Idris’ thumb swept over my knuckles as he gazed down at me. Was he going to kiss me? Something fizzed in my belly, some misplaced thrill that surged through my veins, chasing away all common sense. My eyes, my stupid, foolish eyes, fluttered to his lips.
A faint, tinny whistle filled the distant recesses of my mind. A warning. A far-away siren’s wail. It brought with it a million reasons to put a stop to… whatever this was, not least that he was sozzled and probably had no idea what he was doing. Whatever regrets he had come morning, I would not be one of them.
I cleared my throat, taking a hasty step backwards. His hand slipped out of mine.
“Now I know you’re drunk.” I injected my voice with a hefty dose of cheer. “Sober Idris would never say anything flattering to me.”
“S’because he’s an idiot,” the prince observed with the solemnity of someone describing a different person entirely. “Drunk Idris is smart.”
I raised my eyebrow, crossing my arms over my chest. Nothing about this encounter had been smart. “I think drunk Idris needs to sleep it off before he says anything sober Idris will regret.”
The prince grinned sleepily. “He won’t even remember.”
My lips twitched. He was probably right. “Come on. Let’s leave poor Saeth to get his beauty sleep, and get you to bed? I think you’ve had enough partying for one night, haven’t you?”
“What about you? You haven’t had any wine!” He straightened, his outrage teasing a laugh from somewhere within me. At least I still had some humour left.
“I don’t mind, I’ll have some next time.”
He peered blurrily at me. “Don’t let Anwir tame you.”
I really did laugh at that. I was hardly a wild child. I might enjoy a good night out, but I was a model student and a perfect daughter. My life’s ambition was to deserve my parents misplaced pride, repayment for all they’d given up for me. I was far from needing taming.
I grasped Idris’ wrist, wrapping his heavy arm around my shoulders. “Don’t worry about me. Come on, but remember, don’t squish me. You’ll have to walk.”
“I’m good at walking,” he declared, staggering and dragging me sideways as he set off towards the shadowy castle.
I bit back my smirk. “You certainly are.”
What anyone would have made of us if they’d seen us weaving and staggering through the hallways, leaving a trail of muddy footprints behind us, I had no idea, but we passed nobody. Distant music drifted through the empty halls, signalling that Anwir’s party had continued indoors. I had no desire to rejoin the celebrations.
It was slow going, despite Idris’ bold claims of talent. We stepped sideways just as much as we did forwards, and more than once, he slumped against a wall or a bannister, and stayed there long enough to have me worrying that he wouldn’t get back up. My spine was aching by the time we arrived at the door to his room, only a wing away from mine.
Maybe I should have left him there, but the gnawing worry in my belly had me hauling him through the door and to the foot of his bed. The next thing I knew, Idris gave up completely, and dropped face down onto the mattress like a sack of boulders, with me still clamped under his arm.
A face full of thick blankets muffled my squeal. I twisted and squirmed, but Idris draped half on top of me, his arm wrapped around my neck and a long, heavy leg tangled with mine. He made no effort to release me, damn him.
“Idris,” I spluttered, managing to get my arms under my chest and push back against his immense weight enough to breathe. “Let go.”
No response.
A glance over his shoulder confirmed he was indeed asleep. Great. Just perfect. Well, I certainly wasn’t going to allow myself to be found in his bed come the morning. I mustered all my inconsequential strength and wriggled backwards, freeing myself from his arm. My beautifully styled hair hung tattered and limp around my face, the pins pulling uncomfortably at the back of my head, but I was half free. Without his arm strangling me, I crawled further up the bed, pulling my leg out from under his.
My shoe landed on the floor with a thump.
Panting, I twisted and surveyed the disaster before me. Idris slumped face down on the bed, his legs hung off the end, the arm he’d trapped me with twisted awkwardly. He looked as uncomfortable as it was possible to be.
For whatever reason, a soft smile curved my lips at the sight of such a mighty fae prince, looking incredibly, vulnerably human. No, we weren’t so different at all. The last traces of any lingering wariness, any justified dislike, had already melted away during our earlier hug, but I softened further as his deep, slow breathing filled my ears.
Was his sleep a peaceful one? It looked it, but then, the cursed slumber had seemed peaceful too. I knew differently now, but if he’d resented me for waking him, then surely his dreams were better than his reality? Surely this sleep would be a respite from the pain?
I shook my head, my ruined hairdo flopping from side to side. The prince might be good at walking, but I was supposed to be good at healing things. It was my job. My life. Physical wounds were a different beast entirely than the mental sort, and this suffering was beyond me, but I couldn’t turn away. If the only way I could help him was by giving him a good night’s sleep, then so be it.
Sighing and standing atop the mattress, I kicked off my remaining shoe and hitched my voluminous, sodden skirts around my knees as best I could. This wasn’t going to be easy. Idris was enormous. If only I’d shown the slightest interest in the gym back in the real world.
I began by untwisting the prince’s arm, laying it flat at his side, and then with much wriggling and pinching, I forced my hand under his shoulders and hooked them in his armpits. What people would think if they walked in now…
Crouching low, I hauled with all my inconsiderable might. Idris shifted maybe an inch. Great. Now what? Taking a deep breath, I heaved again, throwing all my weight back. Just when I thought I was going to give myself a brain haemorrhage, he moved, sliding up the bed. I staggered backwards, dragging him with me for a few ungainly steps. His feet still dangled over the edge of the mattress, but it was an improvement. It would do. I waded to the edge of the bed and hopped down, removing his boots from his limp, uncooperative legs.
My skin was hot and flushed by the time I tossed them aside, my hair like a bird’s nest. I had no choice but to abandon the party, even if I’d wanted to go back. Anwir would just have to carry on dancing with everyone else. I gazed at Idris’ pale, perfect face, so similar to his brother’s, but different, somehow. I couldn’t put my finger on it. There was no difference I could see, but maybe it was just a feeling. A sense. I knew Anwir better, and I’d thought I knew Idris as well as I wanted to. But now…
I’d been wrong about him. If he was cold or cruel, it was only because he was trying to push people away, to protect himself, or maybe them. Who was he, really? Someone who’d risked his neck to save me in the caves. Someone who’d hunted to feed his hungry campmates. Someone who’d knelt in the blood beside me and fought to save a life. He’d taken me with him to Tir o Hydref when he really hadn’t had to. He’d taken me flying, and cared enough to make sure I was warm afterwards. That was who he was, and no amount of pained lashing out would change that.
Poor, sweet prince.
I sank down beside him, rolling him onto his back. He stirred, muttering, his head flopping to the side. An errant tendril of dark, damp hair fell into his eyes. I reached to smooth it away, but he grumbled again, and closed a hand around mine, pulling it to his chest. He rolled onto his side, cradling my hand, curling around it, and my heart spasmed once more. Only this time, the sorrow I felt was all my own.