17. Everly
Everly
Chapter seventeen
Heart pounding in my chest, I take a step back, looking out over the courtyard. It’s getting harder and harder to deny my feelings for him. The fact that I can’t control my blush doesn’t help matters at all. It’s probably clear as day to everyone that I have feelings for the unseelie prince.
“I’m taking Everly into Skora. We will be back by nightfall.”
That catches my attention, I look up as Kian bows before turning and heading toward the training grounds. My heart races as Maxon takes my hand and pulls me after him, the scent of the garden and the rush of adventure fill my senses.
“Where are we going?” I ask, struggling to keep up with his brisk pace.
Maxon's gaze catches mine over his shoulder and he slows. “I was going to take you to Skora. I heard you’ve been training all morning and haven’t eaten. There is a place that does the best fried honey cakes with an assortment of berries and creams.”
On cue, my stomach rumbles, and a blush spreads over my cheeks as Maxon smirks. I could swear the tattoos on his face darken for just a second, but it must be a trick of the light.
“That does sound good.”
“Fae have a voracious appetite, and a particular fondness for sugary delights. Many of the dishes we serve have a distinctly sweet taste, so be prepared for that.”
“No arguments here.” I smile.
It’s one thing I’ve always had, my sweet tooth is well known. Mia and Scarlett always teased me about how much sugar I eat. While diets have failed me in the past, my dedication to a meat-free lifestyle has never wavered.
“As long as I don’t have to eat meat, we will be fine.”
Maxon's eyes flicker to mine, seemingly caught off guard. “You don’t eat meat?”
“Nope. Never.” I see a building up ahead and people walking horses in and out.
A young fae boys meets us at the doors to the stable. “Storm is in a mood, Your Highness. He won’t let anyone near him since you got back.”
Maxon chuckles. “When isn’t he in a mood?”
The young fae boy is clearly unsure of himself, his feet shuffling nervously in the dirt. “That is true, Your Highness,” he says quietly and bows before disappearing.
I follow Maxon into the large stables, the smell of hay filling the air as we make our way to the back row of stalls. The sound of hooves pounding the ground grows louder, emanating from the largest stall. I peer into the stall and see Storm anxiously pacing back and forth, his nostrils flaring with each breath. Fear twists in my stomach when Maxon opens the door and walks in.
With a steady hand and unwavering focus, Maxon approaches the massive beast and holds out his palm. Storm's mane whips around as he shakes his head in agitation and nudges Maxon's hand with his nose.
“What’s up with you?”
With each powerful stomp of Storm's massive hooves, the ground quivers beneath him as he nods his head up and down. Stepping inside the stall, I am immediately greeted by the sound of Storm's loud and steady breathing. He has an untamed, majestic beauty that takes my breath away. The black-maned beast has a powerful physique that commands attention. I can’t tear my eyes away from his massive hooves, their size easily surpassing that of my head.
A true war horse.
Storm’s nostrils flare, and he lets out an angry snort, clearly upset about something. I watch as he barges past Maxon, making me freeze in fear as he steps up to me, snorting aggressively. I feel the wetness of spittle on my cheek and raise my hand to wipe it off before meeting the horse's gaze.
“Geeze, thanks for that, Storm.”
Storm's hoof strikes the ground, and I can feel the thud reverberate through my body. I cross my arms, raising an eyebrow at him. Staring into those dark, bottomless eyes, I can’t help but close the distance and run my hand down his neck, feeling the warmth and softness of his coat. As the tension eases from his body, I sense a feeling of disappointment lingering.
“So, you're annoyed he left you and came to see me without you?”
Storm's head bobs dramatically, nearly pushing me off balance. Stepping carefully around him, Maxon approaches Storm's side and rubs his hand over his side.
“I’m sorry, Storm, but time was of the essence.”
Storm turns his head away, as if giving Maxon the cold shoulder. My lips curl up involuntarily, but I quickly bite down on my bottom lip to suppress the smile. The horse is clearly upset at being left here. Maxon’s hand strokes Storm’s cheek.
“Forgive me? I was hoping you would take us for a ride?”
When Storm looks at Maxon, he nudges him playfully and knocks him back a step. I cover my mouth to stifle my laugh.
“Good. Everly hasn’t eaten today. I was thinking about taking her to the markets. I knew my big strong horse would be up for showing a pretty lady around.”
Storm's hooves stamp the ground as he dances, his thick mane whipping around him.
“You like the sound of that? Good.”
Making a soft chuffing sound, he moves past us and trots out of the stall, his head held high. Maxon gives me a conspiratorial grin and follows Storm. I notice everyone giving the massive horse a wide berth when we pass, afraid to get too close.
As soon as we step outside, Maxon takes control of the reins and brings Storm to a halt. The war horse really is a thing of beauty, he is just like his rider. They both exude an aura of strength and power that demands respect from all those around them. My heart melts as I watch Maxon stroke the horse's neck and whisper something to him. The bond between the two is clear to see.
A young fae man with bluish skin and curly red hair, a startling color combination, rushes over. “Would you like some help, miss?”
Before I can answer, Maxon steps up behind me, his hand landing on my hip, causing a rush of warmth to flood my cheeks. The young fae’s eyes widen before he bows and scurries away without another word.
Huh . . .
“You scared him off!” I accuse.
“I did no such thing.”
Turning to face him, I brush my hair out of my eyes and smile. “Sure. Whatever you say, Your Highness.”
I need to question Maxon about the queen’s threats, I have to know if she would actually send anyone after my friends. But the memory of my encounter with the queen fades away as I gaze into those sparkling, jeweled eyes. A soft breeze picks up our hair and tosses it around our faces. I can smell the sweet scent of flowers and hay drifting in the air. I swear, it feels as if the wind itself is wrapping around me and pushing me toward Maxon.
Storm breaks me from my musings, nudging my shoulder, gently drawing my attention. I reach up and run my hand down his face.
“You are a stunning creature.”
“Ready?” Maxon murmurs in my ear, the warmth of his breath sending goosebumps over my skin.
My heart trips over itself as I look from Storm to Maxon over my shoulder.
One side of his lips curves up in a devilish smirk, and my stomach clenches in response. An image flashes behind my eyes of us in bed together, his body moving over mine.
“Pray tell what it is you're thinking to make you blush so?” Maxon whispers in my ear, making me jump.
Clearing my throat, I tuck my hair behind my ear, nervously. “Nothing at all.”
“Right.” Maxon’s hands grip my waist, and he lifts me with ease. I quickly grab hold of the staddle and swing my leg over, adjusting my position. As I feel the softness of Storm's mane under my hand, the excitement bubbles up inside me. In a matter of seconds, Maxon has taken his place behind me and is grabbing the reins, his chest pushed firmly against my back, his strong thighs bracing my legs.
Storm begins trotting down the hill toward the gates, and I try desperately to ignore the sensation of Maxon’s arms around me. How nice it feels with his warmth surrounding me, like there is absolutely no space between us.
We pass through the gates and out onto the open road, a few soldiers and guards nodding in our direction. The distance between the castle gates and the village below isn’t too far, but the green fields that lie between are beautifully alive with wildflowers in an array of colors.
“Wow, so many flowers.”
“It’s weird. We don’t usually get wildflowers here.”
“Why?”
Maxon leans in closer, making me tense. “We are in the Autumn Court, Stóirín.”
“Oh, that’s right,” I breathe.
My fingers sink into Storm’s mane, and I try desperately to control my breathing. It takes all my willpower not to turn my head and find his mouth. All too quickly, we have closed the distance to the village gates and are passing through. Cobblestone roads make up the street, which is adorned with charming little houses. A handful of fae idle and chat, a couple of them stealing a glance at us as we go by, inquiring stares tracking us. The few who are in close proximity to the road bow their heads in respect as we pass, but Maxon merely acknowledges them with a nod. I cannot resist allowing my eyes to linger on the grey skinned fae with horns and wings, which is an extraordinary sight that is far from my usual experiences.
Just as a wolf emerges onto the road, the echo of a woman's shout fills the air. My heart thumps frantically in my chest as Storm halts abruptly, narrowly avoiding trampling the creature. A frantic woman comes rushing out, looking completely frazzled.
“Oh, Your Highness. I’m so–” But before she can finish, Maxon raises his palm, silencing her words.
“It is fine. No one was hurt.”
The wolf runs toward the woman, making my throat tighten with emotion. I watch in complete awe as a swirl of shimmering light surrounds the wolf, and it transforms into a young girl no older than twelve.
Maxon's gaze shifts to the young girl, who averts her eyes and lowers her head.
Maxon’s voice is gentle when he speaks, making my heart beat a little faster. “Maybe just slow down when you approach the street, leanbh.”
The girl’s light brown eyes widen as she nods, the mother mouthing thank you to Maxon as she wraps her arm around her daughter, guides her back toward the house.
“What is leanbh?” I ask as we start moving again.
“It means my child.”
My lips twitch. “That’s so sweet.”
Maxon’s hand moves, and I feel the warmth of his palm as it flattens on my stomach. The heat of his hand seeps through the fabric of my tunic, igniting my blood. Desire washes over me, and the only thing I can think of is what our bodies would be like skin on skin.
Is it normal to have these kinds of reactions to a man? I don’t think it is, but he isn’t a man, is he? He’s fae.
Turning the corner, my breath catches in my throat as I take in the magnificent sight before me. Nestled within the heart of the village are the markets. Sprawled like a labyrinth of wonders, its stalls and tents forming a colorful mosaic is a sensory overload.
Maxon gently tugs on the reins, and Storm comes to a halt beside a quaint garden in between two shops. Jumping swiftly from the horse, Maxon turns to me as I swing one leg over. Without any hesitation, his hands firmly grasp my hips, and gently lower me to the ground.
My hands automatically grasp his shoulders and trail down to grip his forearms. “Thanks,” I say, smiling up at him.
“Anytime.”
I step back, my pulse thrumming loudly as I clasp my hands together in front of me.
“Come on. I will take you to Láthair Milis. It’s the best spot for sugary delicacies.”
I nod eagerly, my mouth watering with the promise of delicious sweets. “Lead the way.”
A mischievous twinkle appears in his eyes, and the side of his mouth turns up in a grin. Holding out his hand, he reaches for mine. Slowly, almost hesitantly, I place my hand in his. Without hesitation, he flips our hands, he laces our fingers together, the feeling of intimacy making my stomach flutter with excitement and apprehension.
“Nothing to be nervous about, Stóirín. You are safe with me.”
“My safety isn’t what I’m nervous about,” I blurt.
Maxon stares back at me, almost curiously. “Dare I ask?”
My cheeks flush and I shake my head. “Let’s go.” I smile, trying to hide my emotions, but we both know how he is making me feel.
The aroma of exotic spices wafts through the air, enticing me to sample the culinary delights of foreign lands.
As we walk through the crowd, I am surprised to see a lot of different fae creatures. I see a few tiny pixies and I wonder if Nix knows them.
The merchants trade their wares, their voices weaving a cacophonous tapestry of languages and dialects. Some I understand, others I don't. It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask Maxon why I can understand languages I’ve never spoken, but something holds me back.
We come to the end of one street and on the corner, a mysterious apothecary named El?ren displays jars of glowing potions that sparkle like the afternoon sky. My curiosity gets the best of me, and I pause to investigate the peculiar jars and vials on the shelf.
Spells, maybe? Curses?
I hesitate to ask, not wanting to reveal my human nature. Nearby, an enigmatic fortune teller with a cloak as dark as midnight reads the future in the shimmering depths of a crystal ball, her words drawing a hushed crowd. I really want to see the fortune teller. Something about being in Faerie makes it all seem so real. Mia and Scarlett would always scoff at the idea of getting our fortunes read, calling it a scam and a waste of money. I'm the opposite. Always drawn in by the mystical.
Amidst the clamor, fae children dart around shoppers with wide-eyes, some tug at their parents’ sleeves, begging for colorful trinkets and magical baubles. So many stalls are laden with vibrant fabrics and embroidered silks catching my eye. This must be where Zaria got the fabrics for the dresses she had made for me.
Maxon doesn't hurry me, instead letting me take in everything at my own pace. His hand is still firmly clasping mine, gentle and comforting. The sharp clanging of metal on metal resonates through the air as we pass the blacksmith. I watch in awe as he swings the hammer with precision, never breaking his momentum. The weapons and armor that line his walls are so intricate, they look fit for fae heroes and warriors.
“George is the best at what he does,” Maxon whispers next to my ear, making me jump.
“His pieces are beautiful.”
“They are.”
Maxon tugs my hand, and we round the corner into a quieter street.“Here we are,” he says as we stop in front of a sweet little shop that seems to be carved from a gigantic tree trunk.
Above us, the canopy spreads out, creating a natural roof, with pink and orange flowers delicately decorating each branch.
“Oh my gosh, it’s gorgeous,” I breathe, dropping his hand and peering in the small window. The shop is filled with baked treats and the smell . . . the smell is heavenly. The aroma of cinnamon, sugar, and chocolate waft from the open window, making me feel warm and cozy.
The door to the shop is much too small for Maxon or I to fit through, but I don’t have to worry, because a short fairy walks out, holding several bags.
“Maxon, my boy!" she exclaims, her round face breaking into a joyful grin.
Maxon raises his hand, covering his chest, and bows his head. “Coraline,” he replies almost affectionately.
The fairy’s wings flutter with excitement as she holds up the bags for all to see. Her light pink eyes are like nothing I have ever seen before and are perfectly complemented by her purple pixie cut. What really fascinates me are her wings. The shimmering colors are so vibrant that they remind me of a rainbow after a storm.
Her wings are so captivating that I am oblivious to the fact that they are speaking to me. Maxon’s hand lands on my shoulder, snapping me out of it.
“Everly, I’d like you to meet Coraline. She has been baking me sweets since I was old enough to walk.”
Coraline steps forward, taking both my hands in hers. “Maxon has never brought any girls to meet me before.” She gives me a coy wink before continuing, “You’re a pretty little thing, aren’t you? And not skin and bones like all those other court fae.” Dropping my hands she flies around me. “You have a body.”
Oh my god, bury me now!
Maxon chuckles. “Don’t mind Coraline, she doesn’t seem to have a filter today.”
I smile kindly at the fairy. “I hear you have the best honey cakes.”
Coraline’s pink eyes sparkle in delight. “You’re here to try my cakes?”
“Yes, please.”
Turning, she picks up the bags she’s placed on the ground and hands them to Maxon. “Here. I saw you coming and packed all your favorites.”
Maxon's face breaks out in a broad grin, and I’m once again mesmerized by how handsome he is. He is a black knight, a warrior, a prince of the Unseelie fae, but he is soft and gentle and sweet.
“Many thanks, Coraline. I will take Everly to the old oak to try them.”
Looking down at me, butterflies flutter madly in my stomach as he winks at me and takes my hand.
“Bye, Coraline,” he says, pulling me away.
I swallow roughly and wave goodbye to Coraline. Her smile falters, and she tilts her head to the side, as if trying to understand something. She narrows her eyes briefly, before they flare wide in disbelief.
My stomach drops, and I quickly turn my head around and continue walking. What was that look?
The smell coming from the bags is so delicious that I can almost taste it and my stomach rumbles in response.
Maxon looks down at me with concern. “You really are hungry.”
I shrug. “I’m fine,” I lie.
“Well, we are here.”
My mouth drops open at the sight in front of me. In the center of a large courtyard is an ancient oak tree with gnarled branches that provide a natural canopy. Musicians are playing haunting melodies on wooden flutes and stringed instruments off to the side. The dancers move in perfect harmony with the music, creating an enchanting atmosphere. Being in Faerie is like stepping into a dream, where everything is vivid and tangible, and reality is blurred with magic.