Chapter 7
“Wine causes as many problems as it solves.”
— Nia Quill, An Observation
The wine spilling from the amber bottle into my glass might very well be the death of me. I love wine, but it does not always love me back. I have told my cousin this on multiple occasions, but Kerris does not pay me any heed.
“That’s plenty,” I say.
Kerris rolls the bottle, stemming the steady flow before setting it down on the bedside table next to her own equally full glass.
The room we’ve chosen for tonight’s much-needed catch-up is as blue as the sky outside the balcony doors. Kerris claims the view is one of the best in the castle, but I’m not brave enough to venture out there myself for fear of tumbling to my death.
An irrational fear, I know. That doesn’t make the possibility any less real in my mind.
I’m content right where I am, admiring the vaulted ceiling and ornate plaster coving cast in the shape of tulips. The space is lush and opulent—everything a castle bedroom should be.
Why Kerris prefers to sleep in a tiny wagon instead is beyond me. She and her husband must hardly have room to breathe.
Speaking of her husband. “Where did you say Everett was tonight?”
Kerris settles back against the plush throw pillows, swinging her stockinged feet back and forth as she raises the glass to her wine-stained lips. “Some meeting about the bridge. There’s been another delay, and now the foreman is saying it might not be finished before Samhain.”
That’s no good at all. Last I heard, it was meant to be finished by the end of August. “What will the Unseelie do about collecting water from the well?” With no immortal water on their side of The Divide, they’re forced to draw from ours.
“Continue to carry it on their backs, I suppose. The temporary bridge is too dangerous for their carts. Maddox’s nearly toppled over the side when he brought it across.”
Heavens, she never told me that. The poor man must’ve been so frightened. I’m not sure I’d ever recover from a shock like that. Not that I need to worry, since I’ve no plans to venture over that deathtrap.
At least the Unseelie can cross any day of the week, unlike a few months ago when they were only allowed on our side of The Divide on Wednesdays.
I take a slow sip to keep from spilling red wine on the white duvet. Wouldn’t want the pristine space to resemble a massacre in the morning.
Kerris sits up with a start, her glass knocking against mine. “Oh! I almost forgot! I’m meeting my brother and his wife in Applewood tomorrow. If you’d like to escape your cottage for a day or two, you’re more than welcome to come along.”
I haven’t seen Theo and Cora in ages. The last time they were here wasn’t exactly relaxing, either. Unfortunately . . . “I can’t tomorrow. I’m meeting Maddox.”
The look she gives me is exactly what I was expecting. Shock. Confusion. Excitement. They’re all there in the arch of her brows and gaping jaw.
“There’s no point getting your hopes up.” She has this mad idea that the two of us should fall in love so she and Everett aren’t the only Seelie-Unseelie couple in Rosehill. “I’m merely helping him with a problem he’s been having.”
“Oh really?” she drawls with a waggle of her brows.
“Stop. It’s not what you’re thinking.” Thank goodness for that. Imagine if I were silly enough to catch feelings for Maddox when he has no more interest in me than he does a knife to the chest.
“It’s not my opinion you should be worried about. What will Nolan say when he learns you’re out on a date with a handsome Unseelie warrior?”
Nolan can suck an egg. More importantly: “Maddox isn’t handsome.”
Her grin grows. “Is that so? Because I distinctly remember you saying that he looked yummy enough to eat.”
“That was once—and I was far from sober.” What I actually said was that he was objectively attractive for an Unseelie and that if I were single and into the whole “giant green man” thing, I would eat him up. But that is neither here nor there.
“Also, it’s not a date.” Even if it were, it’s no longer any of Nolan’s business with whom I spend my time. He has made it clear where he and I stand, which is nowhere. Since that day at the quarry, he hasn’t once tried to contact me.
Helping Maddox is the perfect distraction from my own misery. If my former lover learns I’ve been out with an Unseelie fae and becomes insanely jealous, who am I to complain?
Nolan Graham knows where I live.
He can take all complaints up with me.
Kerris pokes a finger between my ribs. “What is it, then? Hmmm? Why are you blushing, Nia?”
Blushing? Me? Hardly. “It’s the wine.”
“Is it the wine, or is it the thought of ‘helping’ Maddox take off his clothes?”
“Who are you and what have you done with my innocent cousin?” I’m supposed to be the incorrigible one. “This should go without saying, but I’m not going to help Maddox take off his bloomin’ clothes.” If anything, I’m trying to help someone else do that.
Best not to think too long or hard about why that thought makes my stomach churn.
In order for him to win his fair Unseelie’s heart, I need to figure out what other advice might help. Something I should probably be doing instead of sitting here guzzling wine.
Maybe I can do both.
I knock my foot against hers. “What did Everett do to win you over?”
Her face takes on the dreamy cast of a woman in love. I remember that look. Miss it.
“He paid attention to me. Brought me flowers. Listened when I spoke. Made me feel like the most interesting, most important woman in the world.”
Nolan used to do that. At first, anyway.
Perhaps these are the things you lose when you’re with someone for so long.
Like my parents. I imagine my father must’ve courted my mother when they first met.
Now, they barely speak unless it’s to discuss dinner plans or what my mother would like planted in the garden.
I don’t want a relationship like that.
“Do you have paper and an ink pen handy?”
She sets her glass beside the wine bottle and skips over to the roll-top desk to retrieve the items I’ve requested, handing both to me with a flourish.
With a final fortifying gulp of wine, I abandon my glass in favor of creating a very important list.
“What are you writing?” Kerris’s lilac waves tickle my cheek when she peers over my shoulder to see.
For some reason, I don’t want to tell her the truth.
Maybe I’m trying to protect Maddox. Or maybe I’m hoping to avoid having to talk about the woman he’s in love with. She’s probably tall and beautiful and excellent at Unseelie things like . . . like killing animals and whatever else they do to pass the time in their villages.
The only thing I’ve ever killed was a potted plant my mother asked me to mind one summer while she visited a friend up north.
What other reason could I possibly have for creating this list? Something plausible. Something like… “I’ve decided to write a book on how to win another’s affection.” Not a complete lie. This book will one very specific reader.
“What a brilliant idea! Would you believe I was considering writing a book myself? Not about affection but about the Unseelie fae. The ones in print now are all preposterous.”
Like the book she used to keep on her bedside table when she was living in our house. Every time I came to her room, she would be poring over the thing. “Will there be pictures?”
Her face turns scarlet. “Oh, you! Be good!”
Says the woman teasing me about removing an Unseelie’s clothes.
I have no desire to see Maddox Finch disrobed.
Although, I imagine he’s quite—
No. I mustn’t let my mind wander in that direction.
More wine should help with that.
I swallow another sip and try to recall the things Nolan did that made me fall in love with him, only to promptly throw out the idea. What Nolan and I had didn’t last, so why would I base anything off our relationship?
Instead, I write what I wish he would have done. The small things we lost or never got quite right. Meanwhile, Kerris gives me a list of entirely unhelpful suggestions, fueled by wine and giddiness.
She squeals and slaps my arm. “He should have large hands! Make sure you write that one down. Why aren’t you writing it?”
Because I’ve started a second list just for her. Biting back my smile, I swap pages and add, “Have large hands” beneath “Have sharp teeth.”
“What if he doesn’t have large hands?” That isn’t the sort of thing a person can change.
She taps her stained lips, considering my question with far more intensity than it deserves. “Then he should wear large gloves!” She collapses onto the mattress, overcome with giggles.
I suppose an absurd question deserves an absurd answer. “My queen, I do believe you are drunk.”
“Pish posh. I am only overjoyed to be with my second favorite fae in the world.”
“Second favorite?” There was a time when I was at the top of that list.
A nod. “Ever has very large hands.”
“Does he? I hadn’t noticed.” Yet another lie. I dare anyone to meet an Unseelie man and not notice his hands.
“Oh! I have another one for your list.”
I grab her list and scratch down what she says, word for word, a laugh bubbling in my throat.
Yes, this is exactly what I needed tonight.