8. Lover
Chapter 8
Lover
SONGBIRD
H uge blankets have been laid on the beach near the buffet, and I’m sitting in a first-year huddle with Willow, Elio, Iris, and Sean. Zeke is playing ball with a group of seasoned students, but by my quick calculations, the entire student body comprises no more than thirty-something people.
The Royal Academy might be a big place, but it doesn’t have a large roster.
The flickering torches keep us warm despite the strong sea breeze. The tight knot in my stomach throbs before it slowly unravels, as if the unfamiliar, salty wind is inhabited by healing spirits that have drifted out of their graves on the ocean floor to greet us.
Elio draws patterns in the striking golden-orange sand beneath his fingers. “This sand is so smooth and heavy.” He rubs a pinch between his fingers. “And warm, like the sun is still shining.”
Willow nods. “Saffron Cove is usually the place students use to get some privacy, given the warmth of the sand and the fact that it… doesn’t get stuck everywhere.”
“Sounds like you’re speaking from experience, Will,” Sean teases her. “Go on, spill.”
“Err—I wish. Aidan told me.”
Sean nods like her answer appeased his thirst for gossip. “Aidan would know.”
All my hairs stand up to attention at the mere mention of the name, and I startle at Sean’s unexpected nudge, my heart suddenly pounding in my chest.
“Your fiancé is one fine man, moth. Shadow dudes just have a certain je ne sais quoi …” he scans Zeke from head to toe, biting his lips. “Too bad he’s into girls, because I wouldn’t mind taking a peek under his trunks.”
I blink to dissipate the heat in my chest.
“Look at her. She’s clearly hoping for that peek, too,” Iris chuckles, and I curse my complexion once more.
“If shadows get you hard, maybe the Crow swings your way, Sean,” Willow suggests with a devilish grin.
“Nah. According to the rumors, the only wave that rocks the Crow’s stiff boat—which I heard is an impressive vessel indeed—is Devi.”
Iris’s eyes dance at the news. “Devi and the Crow? Really?”
“I’m just repeating what I’ve heard.”
“Oh, I’d pay good money to see that,” Iris jokes.
Blood still sears my cheeks, burning my face. I’m not a prude by any means, but Winter Fae seldom talk so openly about sex. Only when we’ve had too much cider and are surrounded by our closest friends do we dare to discuss our fantasies so freely. We’d rather whisper about it.
Our wedding celebrations are scandalous as we watch newlyweds from afar with opera glasses, tasting cheeses and wines. I’ve attended twelve since I turned fourteen, each leaving quite an impression. My own sexual experiences were all whispers and hushed breaths, biting my lips to avoid being caught with Henri in his bedroom.
But I was warned by my father that Spring and Summer Fae have no such qualms about discussing their primal urges, so it’s not a big surprise.
Iris motions to a boy playing against Zeke. “Declan is into boys. He can’t shut up about it.”
“Declan’s my cousin,” Sean whines, grimacing.
“I know, but when the pond’s too small, you can’t be too choosy,” Iris quips, and everyone laughs.
A group of four third-years attacks the buffet, packing up almost half the food into containers and slipping them into a large bag. “Hey, rookies! Some of us are hiking up Lovers’ Leap for some cliff diving. You want to come with?”
Sean jumps to his feet. “You bet!”
Willow wraps her arms around herself, her skin riddled with goosebumps. “I warn you, the water is freezing this time of year.”
I give a confident shake of the head. “I’m out. Though I’m sure the water’s warm enough for me.”
Summer Fae are wusses when it comes to cold.
“You want to join them, Iris?” Elio keeps his voice as casual as possible, but a hint of red flushes his cheeks, too.
Uh-uh. Elio’s got a crush on Iris. And sucks for him, it shows.
She crosses her arms over her chest. “I wouldn’t be caught dead cliff diving with you, Lightbringer.”
“Why not?” he deadpans, narrowing his gaze.
“Well, you’re obviously a virgin, and I don’t like to teach. So unless you do some serious homework, don’t ask me again.”
The mixed crowd of third- and second-years behind us howls and cheers at her flippant response, and Willow and I exchange a cringey glance. Ouch.
“She’s a real… treat,” I mutter under my breath, and Elio’s fingers dig into the sand, though he manages a soft, embarrassed smile.
Zeke runs over to us. “Anyone up for some beach ball? We’ve just lost some players.”
I have to admit, glistening with sweat and wearing only black trunks, he’s objectively attractive.
“I’m game,” Iris purrs, peeling herself from the blanket.
Willow stands and dusts the sand off her legs. “Me, too.”
“And you, moth?” Zeke’s gaze travels up my bare thighs to the hem of my skirt. “I wouldn’t mind seeing you in your bathing suit, running around with that cute ass on display, desperate to catch my balls.”
I glare at him through my eyelashes, eyes half-mast. “Alas… I’m not going anywhere near your balls tonight, Zeke.”
Elio coughs, and Willow snickers, “Oh, she got you there.”
The trio runs off to the ball court, leaving Elio and me behind.
“Wow. That guy will give my brother a run for his money in the womanizing department,” he says.
“Oh, I forgot to mention. I met your brother earlier. Are you two able to wear shirts, or—” I pause mid-sentence. Since I’ve already committed to a stupid, oddly personal question, I decide to own it. “Do the wings get in the way of your clothes at all?”
I examine the wings folded at Elio’s back again, the long feathers at the ends tucked underneath his ass.
Elio cracks up at my fumble, and I take pride in my successful attempt to change his mind from the public humiliation he just suffered. “Yes, we can wear shirts. Our wings can actually return to the ether the way magic armors and weapons can, but my father insisted for me to wear them proudly tonight.” The light in his eyes dims. “He doesn’t want anyone to forget I’m a Prince of Light.”
“Only royals have wings, then?”
Wings are part of the secrets and traditions that don’t make it into wide-spread literature. One of the many mysteries that’ll be unveiled now that I’m here.
“Yes, it’s a gift from our god Helios. He’s a firm believer in hereditary monarchies, and so he marks his possible heirs with wings similar to his own.”
“Are you born with them?”
“We’re born to them, but we have to practice summoning them. Learning to fly is way harder than learning to swim, I assure you. And when my father decides it’s time to prove your worth, you either fly or crash at the bottom of the Solar Cliffs.”
My jaw hangs open as I gawk at the smooth, white curves of his feathers, itching to reach for them. “By Thanatos! You can actually fly?”
“Did you think they were just ornamental?” Elio teases.
“Well… maybe.” I shake off the urge to berate him further about his wings or more embarrassing still, ask him for a ride. “Is your father very difficult?”
His gaze darts to the ground. “That’s one word for it.”
“Mine is very… politically oriented.”
“Is that code for ambitious and ruthless?”
"Like with Zeke. My father plotted for years for this betrothal. My magic is strong, so if I hadn’t been admitted here, I would’ve had to apply to Tundra University to become a reaper. But Papa wouldn’t hear of that. He might serve the Winter King, but he wants me as far from the Ice City as possible. He wants grandsons and—" I try to find a positive spin to my rather depressing train of thought.
I probably shouldn’t talk about reapers, or the Winter King. Fae from the other kingdoms don’t like to think about death. They don’t like to be reminded that, even though we call ourselves immortals and age incredibly slowly, we all die, too, at some point.
Elio doesn’t seem put out by the turn our conversation has taken. “He wants his name to live on after his death. He’s not the only one.”
“Yes, but royals are supposed to be that way. My father is adamant that his legacy has to amount to something. He’s never content with anything.”
Elio raises a brow. “And you?”
“I’m grateful to be here. It’s a life-altering opportunity.”
I’m fine with Elio thinking that my hopes and dreams are driven by my father. The seed of ambition he planted in me has only recently begun to flourish, and I’m unsure how much of it comes from me or if I’m merely being influenced by what he’s been telling me my whole life.
“‘Work hard, and when you’re done, work harder,’ is my father’s mantra. It’s a tiring way of life, but I’m here, so it obviously amounted to something.”
“My father’s mantra is: ‘Reflect your light upon me, or die trying.’”
“Wow. He sounds like a prince.”
His brows knit together. “You have no idea.”
We watch the waves crash onto the beach, the restless ocean as unfamiliar as the warm breeze blowing at my back. Wintermere does have a connection to the sea, but the coast is prone to freezing arctic winds and ice that span for miles and miles before reaching open water.
No wonder we don’t swim.
I catch Elio’s gaze. “The life of a reaper must be pretty lonely in the end. Everyone curses them for their work. They don’t get to have partners or kids. Aside from their obvious duties, they’re not meant to be seen by the living. So I’m really glad I get to come here instead.”
He nods thoughtfully. “Becoming a reaper does sound pretty lonely.”
“Hey, Elio! Come here! There are some girls you have to meet!” Ezra suddenly accosts us, his swim trunks still dripping with seawater. “They want to go cliff diving with us.” He offers his brother a hand to stand up, but Elio leaves him hanging, so Ezra turns to me. “We do look alike, right?”
“Err—kind of?”
Ezra’s hair is slightly longer, the coastal wind and leftover salt water giving it quite a bit of texture and volume. Elio’s still growing, with less muscle as his body figures itself out. The slightly skewed proportions aren’t quite as flattering as Ezra’s perfectly balanced physique, but with those abs, the glow-in-the-dark hair, and those ice-blue eyes…
It’s a good thing I already have a fiancé. And a secret.
Two girls who look exactly the same wave mischievously at Elio behind his brother’s back. Elio shakes his head, his feet digging into the smooth sand for traction. “I’m not interested in whatever twin-cest thing you have going on, Ezra.”
“Oh, come on, kid! They said they wouldn’t go if it was just me.”
“You know what? I think you should go,” I declare.
Elio glares at me like I’ve grown a horntail and stabbed him in the back with it. “What?” he chokes.
“Yeah. I think it's a fine idea.” I discreetly point at Iris in the space between us, and his eyes follow my movement.
My catty roommate is watching the exchange intently.
Ezra crouches behind me on the blanket and wraps an arm around my shoulders. “I was right about you, moth. You’re cool.”
The wickedly handsome Fae’s lure is much easier to deal with in his drunkard iteration, and I grin as I pat his arm in a soothing fashion. “Why, thank you.”
He climbs back to his feet, the movement effortless and graceful, and arches a brow at his brother. “Lady Snow has spoken. Shall we?”
“I don’t want to have a foursome with Ezra. Under no circumstances. Ever,” Elio clips under his breath, still glaring at me.
“Then don’t. Iris is watching. Just go cliff-diving with them, and she’ll spend the rest of the night biting her tongue.”
“I—” Elio stretches his neck to look at the twins. “You think?”
“Elio, come on. She totally humiliated you, and now, she’ll be the one left in the lurch.”
A sigh whistles out of his clenched jaw. “Oh, alright.”
Ezra points to me with drunken emphasis. “You’re my hero, Lady Snow. I owe you. Big time.”
I wave them off, watching the foursome head up the grassy path at the back of the cove, a smile tugging at my lips. Now left to my own devices, I visit the buffet and munch on some verdant chips and salsa.
Hum. Yum.
Summer certainly has a spicier, more varied cuisine. I bet all the royals get to enjoy their choice of fruits and vegetables year-round, while in Tundra, the common Fae mostly subsist on root vegetables and potatoes alongside their meats. Sure, I’ve tasted a couple of blood oranges from the Red Forest each year, and I’ve licked my share of salt rose caramel pudding from the royal cook’s spoons when I visited my father at the castle. Lucy was always delighted to see my eyes sparkle at the taste of her batter.
But these? These are all-you-can-eat high-end, fancy delicacies.
It’s so good. I could get used to this.
“Don’t eat too much, moth, or you won’t be able to take flight anymore,” Iris teases as she jogs over to get a glass of cider.
Judging by her tiny waist, the girl must watch her figure closely.
I make a big show of licking my fingers and throw her an asinine smile. But she’s partly right. I should be more careful about eating in front of the other students, and not because of some fat butterfly nonsense. I shouldn’t give them a reason to be reminded that I’m not one of them. That I’m not used to these luxuries. Same thing as with the princes. I can’t show I’m not used to dealing with drop-dead-gorgeous, powerful men. I have to take it all in stride so that they never question if I belong here.
The fourth-year Red Fae that made a speech earlier joins me by the wide array of food. She’s thin with auburn hair that falls in soft waves, a sharp pointy nose reminiscent of the witches she descends from, and brown eyes that glimmer with mischief.
“Hey, moth.”
“Diana, right?”
“It’s Big Bad Bitch to you. I was the guardian of the Autumn trial. I saw you leave with all that blood sprayed on your chest and boy, you really blew through Summer.” Her unfriendly grin widens. “I thought of the perfect challenge for you. I want you to find out Aidan’s full initials. He’ll be the judge of your success or failure, of course. I wouldn’t dream of having you blab away something so personal.”
“Are you joking? He’s never going to tell me.” I risk a glance in his direction.
My skin warms as Aidan glances in our direction, as if he’s heard his name.
“Hey, Johan.” Diana motions her friend over, and the man creates a welcomed barrier between me and Aidan. “How many points would you give the moth if she managed to find out Aidan’s initials?”
The boy raises both brows high at the scandalous proposition. “I’d say it’s worth three times as much as the hardest challenge we came up with.”
“I agree. See? This way, you get to fail and keep face. No one will expect you to succeed.”
She pats my arm in a condescending manner as she leaves, and I bite my tongue not to reply. Deep breaths and rise above. I don’t care about some stupid initiation contest, anyway. For all I know, Aidan himself put her up to this.
Our first official meeting doused some much-needed icy water over the possibility of repeating that kiss. Aidan might be real, but his interest in me certainly isn’t. And after his... revealing performance earlier, I know he’s just playing with me. This must be the kind of game princes play to keep themselves entertained.
It should be a relief, but I can’t dismiss the heaviness hovering beneath my breast bone or the itch at the back of my throat.
I feel terribly stupid.
Aidan broke the rules and roped me into his little scheme, and I fell for it hook, line, and sinker. A man so imbued with his own self-importance will expect nothing less than unfailing obedience from a moth in return for his help, and I’ll be lucky if all he wants to use is my body.
The pressure of his gaze is a quite literal line of fire crawling across my neck. Not enough to make my skin blister, but the heat quickly becomes suffocating. The sand beneath my feet warms as I refuse to acknowledge him.
If there’s one thing I know about my standing here at the academy, it’s that I should study hard, keep from talking about the trials, and not make waves.
Being caught in a dalliance with the most infamous bachelor in Faerie would ruin me—destroying my credibility with Zeke’s father and my chances of graduating faster than if I openly admitted to cheating at the trials.
A cup of Nether cider in hand, Aidan approaches the buffet under the guise of serving himself a refill. “You’re engaged,” he says on a sigh.
“Yes,” I answer without looking, wrapping an arm around my frame.
“You should have told me.”
My eyes bulge, and I glance over my shoulder to see if he’s serious. “I thought you were merely a fever dream.”
A rogue, arrogant smile warms his face, his gaze focused on the liquid foaming over his cup. “Am I that handsome?”
“Ugh.” I move to leave, but Aidan grabs my lower arm, his fire snaking along my skin. It’s warm and enticing. I can’t look away.
“We have to chat. Privately.”
I pull away from his grasp so I can concentrate, the gentle sting of the flames too damn distracting for me to keep my head. “We can’t be caught speaking in private.”
The last thing I should be doing tonight is leaning any further into that weird hypnotic thrall Aidan’s got going for him.
His lips curl down. “Normally, I would agree, but we have to get our stories straight. The Crow is already asking questions about your performance, so we can’t afford to wait. Head to your room now.”
My mouth dries up. “My room?”
“I’ll meet you there in ten minutes.” He gulps down the rest of his cup and discards it on the nearest table, walking away without another word.
My head swims. He certainly didn’t wait long to come and collect what he thinks he’s owed. Well, if he tries to blackmail me into sleeping with him, he’s got an ice dagger coming for his throat. But in spite of the boulder in my chest, my skin tingles.
Aidan’s piercing amber stare, his long brown lashes, the glistening ridges of his bare chest, and the damn V-line above his godly marks replay behind my closed eyelids like my very own wicked brain cinema.
A small voice inside me coos. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to play— No!
If I’m to be expelled tonight, it might as well be for assaulting a prince than for cheating in the trials.