Chapter 41
Aoife
Istood outside the door to a little stone cottage, nestled between the trees of the forest. Cottages dotted the landscape where most of the residents lived. Many new cottages had been built for the Fair Folk.
Meera had told me today’s meeting was taking place at the Wolfgang Cottage, and I wasn’t sure what that meant. Would the council be here for this meeting? Why was it taking place here and not in the council chamber like normal?
I would’ve asked Lor any of these questions if I’d seen him, but I hadn’t, not since that kiss in the library yesterday.
He’d slept next to me last night, but as usual, he’d slipped in after I’d already fallen asleep.
I’d woken in the middle of the night, comforted by his arm around my waist, but when I’d woken up in the morning, he’d already been gone.
I stood in front of the door, peeking into the little window on the side of the cottage to see the Wolfgang clan inside, bustling about, talking and laughing and preparing what looked like a feast. My hackles raised instantly.
This didn’t seem like a normal meeting. It seemed like Lor was luring me here under false pretense, and my immediate reaction was to run.
I didn’t want to be trapped in there with all those people whom I didn’t know very well.
I bit the bottom of my lip, ready to turn and flee back to the castle.
When I next saw Lor, I’d let him know I didn’t appreciate being tricked into coming to some family dinner.
If he wanted me to come, he could ask me.
He likely hadn’t asked because he knew I’d say no.
We’d formed a truce, but it still felt shaky, uncertain, and if I walked away, it very well might break the goodwill we’d built.
A scent wafted through the air, immediately taking me back to a different time.
I was standing next to Oraya in the castle kitchen while she made my favorite trifle pudding.
I hadn’t tasted that dish in so long. I wasn’t even sure any of the Fair Folk remembered these recipes, the ones we created with the meager food rations we were given, the ones we created in secret for our festivals and gatherings.
I peeked back in the window and my eyes widened as I looked more closely at all the dishes. Every single one was a Fair Folk recipe.
My heart fluttered, and my mouth watered.
Lor had done this . . . for me? His family had agreed to this?
To cook all these unfamiliar dishes? Tears sprang to my eyes at the memories that flooded me.
I’d eaten each and every one of those dishes with the other Fair Folk, and each and every one came with their own memories.
Good memories of community and happiness.
I still wasn’t sure I wanted to go inside, but before I could decide, the door swung open, Lor’s mother standing there with a smile on her face.
“Your Majesty.” Lor’s mother dipped her head and dropped into a curtsy.
I hated the formality of it, and it reminded me far too much of the way the godwitches insisted people bow before them.
“That’s truly not necessary.”
She straightened. “You’re like Lor then,” she said, eyes sparkling as if she knew something I didn’t. “He hates when anyone bows to him. Though I suspect his reasons are different than yours.”
That surprised me. Yet another thing I’d learned about Lor.
I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “Why do you think he doesn’t like people bowing to him?” I asked.
Sadness shone in her eyes. “I don’t think he believes that he’s worthy of that kind of respect. He is, of course. He’s the most selfless man I know.”
“And why do you think I don’t like it?” I asked, curious now.
She tilted her head, studying me, her eyes a different color than Lor’s, but she had that same assessing gaze. “I think it makes you sad. I don’t know why, but it does.”
“Mother, are you ever going to let Her Majesty come in?” a deep voice said, and Karina put her hands to her cheeks.
“Oh my goodness. Here you are standing in the doorway, and I’m just talking your ear off.”
She stepped aside, and there stood Lor, his scruff slightly grown from when I saw him just a day ago, more grey peeking through the brown that made him look so distinguished.
Instead of the leather trousers and tunic he normally donned, today he wore soft brown trousers and a deep blue tunic with a V-cut that showed his muscled chest.
“You look lovely,” he said, his gaze devouring me.
I swallowed thickly, suddenly back in that closet with Lor standing in front of me with that exact same look in his eyes.
“Thank you,” I said, quickly looking away.
“She does look stunning, doesn’t she?” Ceri appeared at my side, gesturing to the dress, and I realized it was the same color as Lor’s tunic.
“I love that deep blue on you,” Ceri murmured.
“Did you make this Ceri?” Karina asked, beaming at the dressmaker.
“I did! I convinced Aoife on our last wine and cheese night to let me get her measurements for a few new dresses.”
“Then we all have you to thank,” Lor said. “For giving us something to feast our eyes upon.”
Karina and Ceri shared a look that I couldn’t quite decipher, but I quickly met Lor’s gaze, his dark eyes so entranced, so hard to tear my eyes away from.
“Well, dinner will be served soon.” Karina bustled toward the kitchen, where Lor’s father, Nevan, and Cillian all gathered, in various stages of chopping, sautéing, and mixing.
Cillian glanced up. “Yes, but it would be done sooner if the king actually helped. You know when I was high prince, I still had to cook and clean any time I came to Mother’s house.”
Nevan elbowed his brother, his glasses fogging with the steam rising from the pot in front of him.
“He was insistent that we make all this food for Her Majesty, yet he’s helped very little for someone who so badly wanted all these Fair Folk foods.”
Karina bustled toward the kitchen. “Oh, hush, you. He’s helped plenty, and besides, I believe he has other things to attend to.” She nudged her head not so subtly toward me.
“You didn’t have to go through all this trouble,” I said. “I haven’t tasted any of these dishes in thousands of years. I would’ve been happy to eat whatever I was served.”
“Lor came to the library, and we researched Fair Folk recipes,” Niamh said from the couch, where she sat with Enid and Ceri’s father, Mr. Morgane. “But we had trouble finding anything, so we went to our resident godwitch.” She pointed at Enid, who made a face.
I hadn’t spoken much with Enid over the last two years. I knew she’d given up her immortality, was no longer a godwitch, no longer had magic, but I couldn’t help but be wary of her nevertheless. Enid hated the godwiches as much as I did, but she’d still been one of them.
“It was nothing.” She waved her hand in the air. “I dined with many of the Fair Folk in my time, and I remembered quite a lot of their dishes. So I went and asked a few of them if they remembered the recipes.”
My eyes widened. “And they did?”
She nodded. “You’d be surprised how much the Fair Folk remember of their time. Many of them hadn’t made these recipes in years, but they still knew them by heart. I wrote down as many as I could and passed them along to His Majesty.”
My gaze swiveled toward Lor, who was still staring at me. I wondered if he’d looked away for a single second while I’d been talking to his family.
He approached me. “Are you angry with me?” he asked in a low voice that sent a shiver down my spine.
I arched a brow. “You mean because you tricked me into coming to your family dinner?”
“Trick is a strong word. I wanted to surprise you.” His voice softened at that last part, and it softened me as well.
Nevan thwacked Cillian over the back of his head, and Wolfe grabbed both brothers by the collars of their shirts and pulled them apart.
They all laughed, and Jerome stared at his sons with such love and tenderness, just watching them as they stood together.
I’d never known family like this, love like this.
Even with the Fair Folk, who I’d considered my family, I’d rarely had such intimate moments.
“Excuse me,” I said as tears began to well. I bolted down the small hallway, lined with doors on each side and burst through one of the doors, dashing the tears away that had begun to fall.
“We can leave,” Lor said behind me, closing the door with a gentle click.
Of course he’d followed me.
I turned to face him. “No, it’s okay.”
His face was so severe now, all the mirth and mischievous gone. He reached out and thumbed away a tear. “I didn’t mean to make you cry.”
“You didn’t.” I crossed my arms. “Well you did, but—” I sighed. “It’s just I’ve never had a family. Not like this. No mother or father or brothers to tease.”
I’d never thought I wanted something like that. Some of the Fair Folk had mothers, fathers, siblings, and it rarely turned out well. Someone would die or get hurt or be separated and sold into different households. It all looked so very painful.
“You do have a family, Aoife,” Lor said, taking a cautious step forward. “This is your family too. And you’re welcome anytime.”
The words filled my heart in a way I didn’t expect. Maybe having a family wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe it was just another type of community I could have.
“How did you do it?” I asked. “How did you leave this?”
He winced, and I wondered if I’d said the wrong thing.
“It wasn’t easy. I missed my family every single day, but I believed in what I was doing, being a rebel within the brotherhood.
I believed I was serving this greater good, and I had to sacrifice to do it.
My family was that sacrifice.” He let out a harsh laugh.
“In the end, I’m not sure any of it was worth it. I didn’t accomplish my ultimate goal.”
“You can’t actually believe that,” I said.
He sighed heavily, and I wondered what was going through his mind. “Anything less than perfection is failure.”
“That’s not you speaking. It’s certainly not something I’d hear from this family of yours. I don’t know them well, but I cannot believe any of them would ever be so harsh, so unforgiving. That voice is someone else’s.”
Surprise flashed across his face. “My former mentor. That’s something he always said.”
Leena had been right. Arthon had poisoned Lor’s mind with his rhetoric.
“You should’ve heard how Leena spoke of you, with such respect and reverence.
” And love, but I wasn’t going to mention that part.
“The only reason the rebels are who they are today is because of you, because of what you started. The same way Fairwitch Isle is better because you’re the king. ”
He swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing. “Do you mean that?”
I bit the inside of my cheek and nodded. “I do. You’re a natural leader, Lor. You’re good and kind and selfless, and that’s exactly the kind of king these people need.”
He stepped forward again, close enough that I could reach out and pull him to me.
I was so tempted, but I was also feeling uncharacteristically shy.
I had no idea what that kiss meant yesterday.
If it was just Lor trying to prove something .
. . or something deeper. That was the part that scared me.
Lor’s eyes dipped to my lips. “Aoife, about yesterday . . .”
“What’s this?” I asked before he could finish. I grabbed a random piece of parchment off the nearby desk and shoved it toward Lor, heart beating wildly.
Half of me desperately wanted to know what he had been about to say, and the other half wasn’t sure I could handle it. Handle this. Whatever was happening between us.
Lor blinked, and I could’ve swore disappointment flashed in his eyes. “That’s one of my paintings.”
I glanced down at the parchment, a painting of the gargoyles. I studied it, amazed by how real it looked. It felt like I was standing there, in front of the castle, Barty and Tal right there.
“This is so life like,” I said. “You have a real talent with this.”
“Maybe once I did, but I haven’t painted or sketched in so long.”
A knock sounded on the door, and Ceri poked her head in. “Lor, Cillian is requesting your help. He can’t read your handwriting on one of the recipes.”
“I should go help before this entire plan falls apart.” Lor nodded his head toward the door. “Stay in here as long as you need.”
He strode out, and I burst into tears.
“Oh, Aoife.” Ceri rushed forward, closing the door behind her. “What’s wrong?”
I clutched the parchment, tears falling, shoulders shaking. “I keep pushing him away, and I don’t know why,” I said.
Ceri looked back at the door, then at me. “Lor?” she asked, voice hesitant.
I swiped a tear and dropped down on the edge of the bed that was pushed against the wall. Ceri sat beside me.
“We’re all afraid, you know,” she said in a gentle voice as she took my hand.
“Afraid of what?” I asked, not sure I understood.
“Love,” she said simply. “Everyone has their reasons. I was afraid because I worried how it would change my life. Cillian was afraid because he thought if he ever admitted his feelings for me, he’d lose his best friend.” She paused. “So why are you afraid, Aoife?”
“Because it’s another chain,” I admitted, already knowing the answer to that question. “I vowed to myself that I’d never be chained to anyone again.”
I looked at my wrists, at the puffy raised skin, feeling that cold metal rubbing it raw.
“Everyone knows Aoife the Warrior Queen is not a woman who could ever be chained again. That’s why I think you’re perfect for Lor, actually.”
I let out an incredulous laugh. “You think I’m perfect for Lor?”
“You’re the only one more stubborn than him. Do you know how many meetings he’s been missing in the last month since you two started . . .” She waved her hand. “Whatever it is that’s going on between you?”
I blinked. He had missed quite a few events on his schedule. I hadn’t given it much thought because he’d missed all those events to do things with me. But that was quite unusual.
“You’re changing him,” Ceri said. “For the better. That man needs to start relying on people, and I think you’re showing him how to do that. He can’t chain you, Aoife. No one can. You’re too fierce, too strong, to ever let that happen.”
I squeezed my eyes shut. “I don’t know how to say all the things that need to be said. It feels too hard, too complicated.”
“Then don’t,” Ceri said. “Show him.”
That wasn’t any easier. “I don’t know how.”
“Dinner is ready!” Karina called from the other room.
Ceri stood. “I’ll go and stall. You take your time.” She walked out of the room, and I looked down at this perfect painting Lor had done.
I stared at it for who knew how long before an idea popped into my mind, one that might just show Lor everything I wasn’t ready to tell him.