21. Hey, Jealousy
Chapter 21
Hey, Jealousy
WONDER BOY
D evi’s lips part in surprise, the two of us trailing at the rear of the hunting party. The deer we’ve been tracking for hours steps into the clearing ahead, my heart pounding in my temples. Drawn by its appetite for the white windflowers, it grazes closer and closer to my hiding spot.
The royal hunt isn’t about feeding ourselves or protecting our lands from monsters. It’s a display of power. Golden-horned deer are sacred, their incredible healing capabilities making them nearly impossible to kill. We hunt only one during the solstice each year. Mounting a set of golden antlers on your wall is a symbol of triumph over your peers—a tradition in which one of the reigning monarchs almost always prevails.
The others have already crossed the river. This is our chance. The Spring Fae lowers her bow with a sad smile, a thick bush of rustberries blocking her line of sight. She tosses me a glance, equal parts eye-roll and encouragement, and motions for me to take my best shot.
My fire arrow is poised to fly true, the creak of the bowstring soft enough not to alert my prey. The deer’s gilded antlers glimmer under the orange glow of dusk, and a hot thrill surges through me.
Just as I’m about to let the arrow fly, accounting for the speed of the wind, a branch snaps off the tree beside me and falls to the ground. The deer lets out a loud, anguished grunt, then leaps out of the arrow’s path, the projectile missing it by inches.
Flaming hell.
I narrow my eyes at the tree for its ill-fated timing, the beast’s escape path taking it directly toward the river.
“What happened?” Devi scolds.
I grumble, “A stupid branch fell off,” and sling the bow over my back.
By the time we reach the rocky banks of the river on the opposite side of the meadow, voices boom through the vegetation, and we zigzag through the trees to rejoin the hunting party.
A clod of mud collides with my face as the deer thrashes on the ground under Ethan Lightbringer’s foot. The arrow sticking out of the beast’s hide has reached its heart, and yet the sacred animal is not dead. Left to its own devices, it might even recover.
“Well done, Ethan,” my father praises his friend. “That was a long one.”
“Not at all. It was almost too easy, Jayden.” Ethan serves us a wide, self-satisfied smile.
The sting of defeat sears down my spine. Too easy my ass. We’ve been at this since dawn.
Blood pools on the ground, and I look anywhere but at the majestic animal, hoping the King of Light will stop gloating and put the poor beast out of its misery. His long blond hair catches in the breeze, his hooded blue eyes almost black and difficult to read.
My father passes him a rowan blade. The ceremonial weapon is made out of our court’s special iron and silver alloy and rowan wood. This blade could finish off any Faerie-born creature in one strike and kill even the most powerful king.
If we were to only nick ourselves on the sharp edge, it would poison any of us to death, and I instinctively recoil from it, trying to smooth out my reaction with an awkward stretch. Only a few daggers of the sort exist, and we only use them in special circumstances.
Considering the damage they can do, I believe they should be melted down and destroyed, but no monarch would willingly obliterate its own murder-all weapon. Not without the certainty that his allies would do the same. Since only the most talented blacksmiths of Summer can forge new ones, they are also extremely valuable.
Ethan passes the lethal blade to his son. “Finish it off, Ezra.”
My best friend looks perfectly at ease and doesn’t even flinch away from the deadly blade as he picks it up and bends down to slice the beast’s throat, but I know him well-enough to spot the tick of his jaw. Ezra despises his father and would have given anything for him not to win the hunt.
Devi clips a short, breathless curse behind me. “The whole thing was rigged. That branch didn’t fall by accident,” she whispers only to my benefit, and I keep a straight face, considering the possibility.
My father is the only one who could have made that branch fall from such a distance, and I don’t see why he would have robbed me from the win. The summer solstice celebration brings along a flock of royal visitors. Me winning the hunt would have made for a great story at dinner tonight.
Thorald Storm rubs down his tensed mouth to hide a sneer, the Storm King barely able to mask his disdain for us Light Fae. “Well, some of us have to hurry back to prepare for the ritual.”
My father grumbles under his breath. He’s not part of the some of us who have to get ready. The seven Faerie monarchs are expected to reunite in Eterna’s throne room tonight to perform a mysterious ritual, but that doesn’t include their spouses. Even my father isn’t allowed to know the details of what goes on in that octagonal room after the doors close. Being a king consort is hard on his ego, because no matter how much he likes to pretend otherwise, my mother is the true head of the family.
“Ezra, I leave you in charge of my trophy,” Ethan orders.
Ezra gives his father a tight nod. “Yes, Sir.”
I can hardly recognize my goofy roommate, his serious pout, stiff spine, and overall gloomy attitude a total contrast to his usual self, but that’s always the case when his father is around.
The crowd disperses, and Ezra begins skinning the dead deer. Its meat will be smoked and salted for the palace healers, its hooves used for ointments, and only the antlers will be surrendered to the winner.
My father leans closer. “The Winter King could barely walk all the way up here, did you notice?”
“At least he came. Oberon Eros didn’t even bother to try.”
“Yes. And didn’t you think Ferdinand Nocturna looked quite winded after the hike? That certainly doesn’t bode well for Morheim.”
The mention of Zeke’s father sours what’s left of my good mood. “When are you ever optimistic about Morheim?”
With a wry grin, my father motions for us to walk through the mirror the servants brought along. We leave a bloody, quiet Ezra to his disagreeable task, and return to Eterna through the sceawere. We enter directly through our private apartments, the glittering runes drawn around the mirror preventing anyone but us from entering.
The adrenaline ebbs out of my blood as my father serves us both a glass of cider to take the edge off our unfruitful hunt.
“After this morning, who do you think should marry Willow?” my father muses. “Given that only Spring, Winter, and Shadow should see a new monarch in this century?”
I go through the list of influential men we spoke to this morning that have a good shot at being king. The game my father is playing is similar to a game of chess, if the pieces moved at an incredibly slow pace. Decades could pass before any of the current kings and queens die. “There’s Maddox Storm. He did well today.”
“An interesting choice. His father is still in his prime, but Maddox is the heir apparent. Only, he’s already betrothed.” He purses his lips. “Is Ezekiel still living up to his underwhelming potential?”
“Worse.”
“That settles it. The old Winter King will die before his new wife, so he’s out of the running, too.”
I can’t believe he even considered the Winter crown for Willow, given the old king’s reputation. Thankfully, my sister was too young to be presented at the last Yule pageant.
I take a deep breath, ready to broach a difficult subject. “Now, don’t get mad. But what would happen if Willow was allowed to marry into the Spring Court?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Violet Eros is Oberon’s obvious successor.”
“I’m just saying—” I have no idea if Devi likes girls, but I’ve heard rumors, and she’ll be queen for sure. Willow would certainly be interested in the idea of marrying her. Fascinated in fact.
“Violet can do whatever she wants in her spare time, but she has to marry a man, Aidan. Well-born children are the pillar of any reign.”
He’s acting as though it’s never been done. Sure, it’s been centuries, but I’m not entirely insane to suggest it. The Spring Court once had two queens—they’re more open to such matters than we are.
"If not Zeke, Maddox, or Damian, then the only other viable choice is—" I cut myself off, the obvious answer to my father’s wicked riddle finally staring me in the face. "You mean to marry Willow and Ezra?"
"Ethan Lightbringer will be in a gleeful mood tonight because of the hunt. It’s the perfect time to work out such arrangements. Freya’s been petitioning for her niece, but who is she kidding? Idris Lovatt’s girl is hardly a proper princess."
An emotion between relief and anxiety, both liberating and worrisome, settles in my chest. “You sabotaged me on purpose to let him win.”
“His little brother is not going to surprise us, is he?” my father asks, glossing over my comment.
“Doubtful. Elio is powerful, but the limelight doesn’t suit him.”
“Then Ezra it is. You should be glad, son. You two are already great friends, and now, you’ll be family.”
I stare down into my cider, the greenish liquid swirling in the bronze cup. Ezra and Willow… If my father is bent on marrying her before she comes of age, it’s not the worst idea.
“Ezra might not accept. I think he suspects that he’s not exactly…Willow’s type.”
The King waves away my concerns. “Ezra will do whatever his father tells him to do.”
A shiver quakes my spine at the certainty in his tone. The terror I see on Ezra's face when he knows his father is angry at him is unequaled. And the stories I managed to piece together over the years tell me Ethan Lightbringer disciplines his sons with cruel, unusual punishments.
I do not want Will to be under that man’s influence in any way whatsoever, but I trust Ezra to protect her.
My father’s valet knocks on the door before inching it open. “I’m sorry to disturb you, My King.” The forest-green coat of moss growing over the sprite’s skull has been neatly trimmed for the occasion. “The royal ball is about to begin.”
“I’ll meet you in my room in a minute.”
I check the clock on the wall. If I want to make it back to the academy in time for Beth’s performance, I have to leave now. “Am I dismissed, sir?”
He removes his jacket and shakes out his wrists, quickly unfastening the cufflinks of his hunting clothes. “Why are you so eager to leave the capital on such a momentous night?”
“Willow made me promise to attend the solstice gala. She’s organizing this year.”
He doesn’t bother to conceal his eye roll, his feelings about my love for the academy and its less glamorous traditions perfectly clear. “Oh, very well. Enjoy your night, Aidan.”
Parents seldom want their children around for the only party of the year when they can fool around with anyone but their spouses, and he doesn’t have to tell me twice. I slip out of Eterna through the mirror, the icy kiss of the sceawere leaving a trail of snowflakes on my neck, and return to the Abbey.
Ezra is fresh out of the shower and out of his bloody clothes when I get home.
“Hey,” I whisper quietly, wondering how to break the news.
He walks past me to the sofa, rubbing a white towel into his wet hair. “Blessed Flame. From the looks of you, I guess I’m about to be betrothed.”
“How?” I ask, taking a seat in front of him, flabbergasted by his insight.
Looking at the ceiling, he sinks into the cushions. “Why else would your father have sabotaged you like that, right as you were about to let your fire arrow fly, if he didn’t intend for Ethan to win?”
“But how did you bridge the gap between letting him win and being betrothed?”
Ezra springs to his feet, clearly agitated, and snatches a bottle of cider from the cooling pantry, pouring himself a cup. “Why else would he give him the win? It’s fine. I know my father was eager to get me settled. I thought Iris might be his choice, but as stunning as she is, Will and I will make a fine match, too.”
It hits me then—Ezra has never hoped to marry someone of his own choosing. If I’ve let myself forget it, it’s only because of the privilege the Mark of the Gods affords me. And now, I can’t ignore the discomfort gnawing at me as my best friend plans a life with my sister, all without the faintest clue of what’s really going on.
I peel myself off the sofa and head into my room to change. The tension in my chest increases with each breath until I return to the common room. “You should have a chat with Will before it’s announced in any formal fashion,” I muse.
I can’t tell him the truth, but he needs to know. And given the opportunity, I believe Willow will tell him herself. If only to try and get out of it.
Ezra adjusts his gold vest over his bare chest, leaving it unbuttoned, the swirl of clouds from the Sun Court’s crest sewn onto the folded lapels. “I know about Will, Aidan. That’s why I said I wasn’t her type. I’m fine with it. After the wedding, we can both come to a discreet arrangement. I’ll keep doing what I do best, and she can find herself a nice mistress that we’ll call her lady’s maid, and voilà—the perfect marriage.”
My shoulders hunch. “I know it’s not what you wanted.”
Ezra talks a big game, but he’s like me. He’s desperate to be loved for who he is, and not the throne he’s being groomed for.
“Not what I wanted? What are you talking about? We’ll be brothers.” He serves me a cup of Nether cider and passes it over. “To family!”
I plaster a smile on my face, not wanting to make him feel worse about his predicament, truly glad for him to join the family if someone has to. “To family!”
We gulp down the entire thing, the frosty aftertaste numbing the ache between my ribs.
With a wistful smile, Ezra pats my back forcefully, ushering me toward the door. “Let’s go. I need another drink.”
“Can you tell Willow? When it’s a good time?” I plead.
He pauses over the doorway, clearly taken aback. “Why?”
“My father made me swear not to tell, and used his magic to seal my promise.”
“Oh, alright. But not tonight. I’ll wait for Ethan to confirm it, first. No need to freak her out unnecessarily.”
I nod, and we head off toward the village.
Augustus is a special town where common Fae coexist with the wealthy. Every year, the academy students host a gala for the solstice. Most of the villagers are eager to pay a small fee to see us try our hands at anything from poetry to jazz, and my mother doubles their contribution. The proceeds go directly to charity, funding the healers who maintain a permanent sanctuary in the heart of the village.
The small stage in the middle of the square is mostly used for plays or recitals, a highlight along the route for the occasional traveling troupe passing through the Summerlands.
All the villagers come out for the occasion, wearing either gold or green to signal their intentions. Gold signifies a desire to partake in the night’s activities while those in green should not be accosted.
It’s customary for unmarried Fae to wear gold, so Ezra and I don matching black and gold vests. While he chose not to wear anything underneath his, I opted for a light, long-sleeved black shirt.
Ezra makes a beeline for the cantina. The small stand is selling fire candy and flameroot wine—a cider that loosens one’s grip on their heart’s desires. It may not be as potent as Feyfire wine, but it’s cheap to make and gives a warm, comforting glow inside. Something we’re both desperate for at the moment.
Most of the other students are standing near the front of the stage, but I can’t spot Beth among them. Zeke’s dark aura is unmistakable, and I grimace, struggling to keep my nonchalant exterior intact. My only consolation is that Beth is nowhere near him. As usual, the Shadow Prince is cozying up to Diana and her friends.
“You’re almost late. The gala’s about to start,” Willow scolds me from behind, and I spin around to greet her.
“You did great, sis.” I head over to peck her cheek. “Well done.”
Her eyes dim. “How did the oh-so-special royal hunt go?”
“It was wretched, if you must know.”
Willow and I love each other, but we’re also stuck in this strange, never-ending loop of sibling rivalry. She resents me for the Mark of the Gods and all the privileges that come with it. I begrudge that resentment and often wish she could get a taste of the pressure I’m under. It’s not all rosy in my shoes either, but tonight, I have to admit that I prefer not being forced into a marriage I don’t want at such a young age.
It hurts that I can’t warn her myself, but maybe Ezra will find a gentler way to break the news. He’ll certainly empathize with her predicament more than I ever could.
My lips press together as my eyes finally find Beth. She’s wearing a green dress that flows to the ground. The bodice is made of vines crawling along her stomach and over her shoulders to cover her breasts, leaving her back bare. The pattern is so masterfully done that I’d believe it’s been sewn by Ceres herself, the Fae goddess of nature and plants.
Ezra hands her an extra cup of wine. By the Flame… How did he get over there so fast?
My jaw clenches as she giggles and takes a sip, apparently pleased by the gesture.
Diana comes up to me with her clipboard, erasing them from my vision. “I know the moth failed at getting your initials. Hell, she probably didn’t even try, but I need to ask anyway.”
“Wait!” Beth runs over to me, the skirt of her dress flowing on either side.
I gape as she slips her hand over my arm and stands on her tiptoes. “I called you a bastard before, but I was wrong.” She whispers in my ear, and my entire nervous system goes haywire. “You’re an ass , actually.” She raises a pointed brow at the word, and I half-choke on a ball of saliva.
Her hand leaves my arm, and I blink one too many times, my abs clenching at the knee-jerk fear that my true name might become common knowledge. It’s so ingrained in our traditions to keep our initials safe that a cold trickle of nausea slithers into my gut.
Ezra tucks his hands deep in his pockets. The fucker has never stood so straight in his entire life, and I bite the insides of my cheeks not to call him out for his betrayal. He sold me out.
Diana frowns. “It’s too late?—”
Ezra checks the sky. “It’s not midnight yet. Not even close.”
“But—”
“The moth completed the challenge, Di. Get over it,” he clips.
“Whatever. She’s still not in first place.” Diana leaves on a frustrated huff, shoving him hard with her shoulder, but Ezra dusts himself off with a smirk, unaffected.
“Oh, she really hates you, Lady Snow.”
Beth fails to mask a grin with the heel of her hand. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to get ready for my performance.”
Ezra raises his cup in cheer. “Knock ‘em dead.”
The playful smile Beth sends his way as she skips onto the stage before disappearing between the black tarps goes directly to the pit of my stomach.
“Why did you tell her my initials?” I ask through my teeth.
“Oh, don’t give me that look. Diana was going to eat your girl alive. I figured you wouldn’t mind so much, given how you feel about her.”
“Is that truly the reason?”
He doesn’t answer, and I force my fist to uncurl, a sickly warmth blazing through my body. “You want her,” I croak.
He swallows a mouthful of wine, then lowers his voice. “Beth is my friend. And you know I’d never move against you.”
“Could have fooled me. You two were giggling like schoolgirls.”
“We were only chatting about the song she’s going to sing. It’s no big deal.” He holds out his cup to share, but I stare down at the crimson tint of the flameroot wine and give him an impatient shake of the head.
The last thing I need tonight is to give in to my emotions or artificially pacify my turmoil. Beth isn’t interested. She’s told me twice now. And yet she’s getting awfully comfortable with both Ezra and his brother.
Maybe blue eyes and blonde hair are more to her taste.
“I’ll leave you two to your secrets, then,” I grumble. “I wouldn’t want to stand in the way of true love.”
“Aidan!”
I leave Ezra behind, the stuffy sting of rejection and jealousy ringing in my ears. Just the thought of hearing Beth sing tonight fills me with misery. She’ll be glorious, but out of reach. I’ve never wanted anything more. I’d cut off my right arm for her to smile at me with the same ease she displayed for Ezra earlier.
I’m a creep. She said no—twice. Why can’t I just move on already? Why does she haunt my thoughts, night after night?
I can’t let this sickness rule my life anymore. I need a proper cure.