15. By The Flame
Chapter 15
By The Flame
BETH
Summerlands, Faerie, Present Day
T he Summer royal envoy leads me directly from my hotel room in Los Angeles to the Royal Academy’s bibliotheca. The air vibrates as I step out of the mirror, and a languid ache grips me. Even though it’s been decades since I last felt the tremors of Aidan’s bite of power, the atmosphere still becomes charged with electricity whenever he’s close. I wonder if he feels it, too, or if it’s a ghost that only haunts me.
The warm glow of the brass desk lamps casts dancing shadows across the leather-bound books, making me feel as though I've actually stepped back in time.
“I always figured the Crown Prince would get married in Eterna,” I remark to my guide, Hector, a stern sprite with gray skin and wrinkled white ears.
“His Highness is particularly fond of the Royal Academy. He teaches here now.”
Wow… Master Aidan.
The bibliotheca is empty, which tells me the students were probably sent on some new world field trip to allow for the wedding to take place without too many outsiders.
Hector gestures for me to sit on the ornate gold-and-white sofa, which offers a jaw-dropping view of the ocean, but I freeze in place. Dusk casts a golden glow across the sky that deepens into shades of amber and violet, the sea beneath it scintillating. My vision blurs with unshed tears as I drag a shaky hand along the trim of the back cushions. A familiar burgundy stain half-hidden in the wood grain of the coffee table catches my eye—an old mark that predates my arrival at the academy. I stare at it for a moment, the strange detail a reminder that no matter how hard we try to brush off our mistakes, the past can never be fully erased. I open my eyes wider not to cry.
“Do you want something to drink?” Hector asks.
I shake my head no, and he bows respectfully at my refusal.
“I’ll fetch the bride,” he says before flying off.
I walk around the edge of the sofa to sit. Get it together, Snow.
I didn’t come here to make a complete fool of myself in front of my ex boyfriend, but I hadn’t anticipated how familiar it would all seem. Almost nothing here has changed. Not the coffered ceilings, the hand-woven rugs, or the empty marble fireplace.
Two people inch out of the stacks, and the foggy haze of nostalgia lifts. The prospect of my imminent face-to-face with Aidan sends a fresh burst of adrenaline through my veins, and I jolt to my feet.
Thankfully, it’s not the groom heading my way, but one of my oldest friends. Elio, the Winter King, raises a questioning brow at me, and the tension that had just thickened in my blood ebbs away.
“Elio! Lori!” I stammer. “What are you two doing here?”
The newlyweds exchange a glance, and Elio blushes. Only then do I notice his disheveled hair and the unbuttoned gap in Lori’s black silk blouse. “Nothing— I was showing Lori around when we heard you and Hector chatting…”
I grin, amused by their obvious embarrassment to be caught fondling in public. “I meant here. At the academy.”
Elio’s gaze flies to the ground, his sheepish grimace deepening, and he clasps Lori’s hand tighter. “Aidan invited us to his wedding. We’re petitioning for the release of Lori’s brother from Murkwood prison, and Aidan insisted on our presence. He wants to reaffirm our alliance so we can present a united front against the rebels.”
I quickly tell myself that he’s not betraying me by being here. That, as a Fae king, he had to accept Aidan’s invitation. But a part of me feels scorned. We saw each other only a few days ago, and he didn’t mention anything about it.
Lori pokes his side hard. “See? You should have told her.”
The Winter Queen looks fierce in her fighting leathers, her disdain for more classic garbs a delightful quirk that gives her a bad-ass vibe. Her long dark hair is braided into an elaborate up-do, but one strand near her forehead is now all white, as though a tiny part of her froze beyond recognition after her coronation. Her high peep-toe heels reveal black nail polish that matches the shade on her hands, and a cluster of silver and diamond earrings gleams around the shell of her round ear.
I bite my lips at the sight of her perfect, artful smokey eyes. Is the shard of Iris’s soul now residing inside her influencing her fashion choices, allowing her to wield Spring magic? Or is Lori simply adjusting to her role as queen?
“Lori’s right. I should have told you about the wedding—” Elio pauses abruptly, and his brows bunch together. “Why are you here, Beth?”
“The bride—” I roll my shoulders back and force myself to say her name out loud. “ Heather asked me to sing Never to Be tomorrow night, like I did at your wedding.”
Elio’s features slowly decompose into an expression of ghastly, wide-eyed shock. “By Thanatos. She has no idea, does she?”
I shake my head.
“And you said yes?” Elio seems to be trying very hard to rein in the wild emotions on his face, and a needle of remorse pierces my heart.
Why did I accept Heather’s invitation? Did I think Aidan might cancel his wedding at the last minute if I showed up? Did I hope to punish him for the fact that I never moved on by crashing his wedding? I don’t think I had any ill-intent, but the ugly truth is I still love him.
What I told myself to make the trip sound less irrational was that I had to see the bride and groom with my own eyes. That I needed to see Aidan happy with someone else, so I could finally move on. I thought I might realize I had built our romance up in my head.
But Elio’s sharp gaze reminds me in no uncertain terms that I should have stayed in the new world.
“I was curious, and her letter sounded more like a summons, so I figured—” A painful breath escapes my clenched jaw. “You’re right. I shouldn’t have come.”
“It’s too late now. The bride is heading our way,” Lori whispers, discreetly motioning to the entrance of the bibliotheca.
I spin around to greet Heather, and my lips part in surprise. She’s tall, even taller than me, with tanned legs that never end and a perfect hourglass silhouette. Absolutely stunning.
I expected nothing less from a Spring princess, of course, but the warmth of her genuine smile fills me with dread. Luscious waves curl on both sides of her face, her brown skin almost golden in the twilight.
Heather Heart, the next Summer Queen, introduces herself with starstruck eyes, an excited smile, and a blatant disregard for personal space. “Elizabeth Snow! Oh my goodness, I’m so elated that you accepted my invitation.” She pecks my cheeks with a nervous laugh and hugs me so hard, she knocks the breath out of me.
A heavy boulder settles in my chest. I’m not quite sure why I came at all—aside from the twinge at the pit of my stomach that begged me to. But this is self-imposed torture …
Dark thoughts flood my brain, filling me with a dreary sense of emptiness. I sink into a graveyard of past regrets, a mud pit crawling with the corpses of my festering hopes.
The should-haves, the would-haves, and the what-might-have-beens are all gathered to punish me for my folly.
“Congratulations on the wedding,” I breathe, feeling outside myself.
“Thank you. I’m glad you could come. I wanted to discuss the ceremony and reception and see if you were open to sing—” Her face lights up, and she motions to someone behind me. “Aidan, come here!”
I black out for a moment as Aidan joins his fiancée’s side.
“Elizabeth, This is my soon-to-be husband, Aidan Summers.”
He’s the same, and yet not. His face doesn’t show much wear, his handsome jaw still as clean-shaven as ever. The vines of his family’s embroideries snake along the collar of his crisp, white shirt and along his cufflinks. I remember tracing those lines back and forth between kisses, and how impatient he was for me to peel the fabric away…
His hair is slightly darker and shorter, but only his eyes are truly different. They betray the century that has passed since our last meeting, and my entire being quakes as our gazes cross.
Holy fuck.
I expect him to pause, or stop, or show any sign of recognition at all, but he grins at me with his arm slung around another woman’s waist like he’s…eager to meet me.
“It’s an honor to meet you, Miss Elizabeth.”
I blink at him, unable to say a word.
His smile widens, and his gaze darts to his fiancée. “Honestly, I think my lovely bride is more ecstatic for your performance than for the wedding at this point.”
“Shush.” Heather elbows his side, and his genuine laughter wrecks me.
How dare he laugh like that for someone else in front of me? my heart cries out.
I worked through a thousand scenarios when I envisioned this meeting, and Aidan’s array of possible reactions ranged from quiet shock to effusive embarrassment to blinding rage.
I considered the possibility of a very public, explosive fight, cold words exchanged as he threw me out of his kingdom forever. Daydreamed about heated arguments that escalated to more intimate debates, the both of us entwined in royal sheets. Cherished silly fantasies that he would somehow call off the wedding.
I imagined it all, and then some.
A few scenarios even included his denial that we’d ever met, but I could never have conceived that he would introduce himself with that blank-slate look on his face. Like he has no idea who I am.