9.
Heather
T his is torture.Literal torture! I shut my eyes tight; the world pulses red around me until I take a deep breath.
“You have got this all wrong!” I shout, flicking away countless photos of Magnus from the camera app. Who knew setting up a dating profile for a king from another realm would be this difficult?
“I beg your pardon?”Magnus stiffens beside me, snatching the phone from my hands. He swipes through all of the photos I’ve taken.
As pretty as he is, he photographs with the vulnerability of a stone. Each photo is the same, save for a subtle movement of his chin. And there’s something else too—Magnus is too perfect. He is the definition of uncanny valley, everything is too symmetrical, with teeth too straight and gleaming, and skin free of pores and any sign of aging. It’s like he has three beauty filters layered on top of each other, and the end result is a face so perfect it’s … unsettling.
“I look exquisite,” he huffs. “What is the problem?”
“Okay, you know what…” I shake my head. “We can work on some candids later. For now, just fill out your bio. Likes, dislikes, and stuff.”
“Understood. Though, I don’t know why we are bothering.” He holds the phone close to his face as he types out what appears to be a novel about himself. “It seems pointless to search for a match when the most beautiful woman in the realms is seated across from me.”
“Considering I don’t love you , I think you maybe want to up your standards.” I reach out my hand and he hands my phone back to me. My eyes flick over the bio and he’s got to be kidding.
“What is wrong with what I’ve written?” he says, and I have to assume the disappointment is showing on my face.
“Vampire King looking for queen to share his throne.” I groan, tossing the phone behind me. Magnus effortlessly catches it and tosses it back to me. Considering it’s a piece of equipment I desperately need, I decide against any further rounds of catch. He hasn’t given me one moment unsupervised with the device, but he’s got to let his guard down sooner or later. As soon as he does, this is my ticket to getting a hold of someone back home.
“It took you that long to type this?” I gasp. Crossing my arms, I wonder if I can slip the phone into my pocket unnoticed. We’re never going to get anywhere if he isn’t going to take this seriously. “Plus, don’t you want someone who doesn’t care about your social standing—to fall in love with the real you and whatnot?”
“I typed out what will give us the fastest results,” he says thoughtfully. “Would you like me to add an astrological sign, my sweet? It seems everyone has something along the lines of that… or a random assortment of letters. What is an INFJ?”
“You’re clearly a Scorpio and so not an INFJ,” I grumble, reaching for the keychain that’s still safely hidden in my pocket to ground myself.
“As far as an astrological sign, I am a Leo, and the other, perhaps we’ll leave it out.” That also … checks out. We still need more than that to work with. How am I supposed to explain this to him?
“Okay, look…” I decide to just lay it all out. “With editing apps and makeup, a pretty face isn’t enough to attract a real connection. You’re way too stiff and there’s nothing conversational here.”
“You just called me pretty.” His smile is absolutely devious, and I wish he would stop getting distracted.
“For someone else,” I counter as damage control. “You need to write a bio that makes someone else want to strike up a conversation with you! This whole thing is giving AI bot energy, and no, I’m not going to explain what that means.”
He scoffs and snatches the phone back, scrolling while looking long and hard at the screen.
“We will make conversation when we meet. You don’t expect me to court someone using this device, do you?” He gapes, blinking his purple eyes as he stares into the light of the screen.
“That is exactly what you do—and literally no one is going to take this profile seriously!” I try to explain. “First off, most mortals don’t think vampires exist. You need to dive deep!”
“Then fix it!” he grumbles. My phone is thrown back to me like a baseball—and I’m not a good catch. “Or marry me; you already know I would prefer the latter.”
“Literally … you’re impossible.” I snatch the phone off the floor and thank the stars for my industrial-strength protective case. I walk toward the window—which I cannot squeeze out of no matter how hard I try and I have .
It’s unsettling to be in a new place every day. Instead of the forest, we’re surrounded by a lake as black as the night. The lack of sun makes it impossible to figure out how much time has passed. Working on Magnus’s profile has felt like an eternity in the worst possible way.
“Okay, okay, let’s slow this down. What kind of stuff do you actually like?”
He freezes.
“Well, I am accomplished in all things from instrumentation to language, if you would care for a demonstration I can certainly…”
Not an answer.
“But what do you like doing ?” I squint at the screen. “Because I’m not seeing anything of value written here, and if you could work in a few details—”
“If I list out everything I am skilled in, we will run out of space.” I frown at the obvious unauthenticity. “Surely a human will be impressed by the idea of royalty?”
“Okay, sure, but you’re more than your job title,” I try to explain. “It’s like someone saying, ‘I’m a lawyer looking for a girlfriend.’ It doesn’t tell you anything about them except for how they make money.”
“But people love money,” he says, and this time it’s not sly, it’s earnest. The sad fact is I don’t know him well enough to assure him it’s not the most appealing thing about him.
“You are so missing the point.” I groan.
“Then explain it better.” He pouts, crossing his arms. I wouldn’t need to explain it if you would just listen.
“Okay, Mr. Moody,” I exhale, pinching the bridge of my nose in the same way Moth and his family do when they’re frustrated, “let’s move past what your skills are, and just tell me about your favorite things.”
“Why would anyone—”
“Just list them off,” I grumble, wondering if a second attempt at running him through with a sword would be worth it. “Favorite food?”
“I am a vampire .”
“Right, right, okay, we’ll avoid that.” I roll my eyes. “Color?”
“Would it be too bold to say the color of your eyes?” he croons, and I close them tightly at the slimy pickup line.
“What color are they?” I ask.
Silence.
“Green.” His response is confident and so very—
“ Wrong .” I frown, still keeping my eyes shut tight.
“Blue.”
“ Seriously? ”
“Heather,” he pleads, clearly getting sick of this little exercise.
“Favorite color … now .”
“Red.”
Cliché, but again, I’ll take it.
“Perhaps we leave it all blank.” He shakes his head. “We could be exact opposites and still find kinship.”
“It’s something real…”
“Which means?”
“It’s a start.” I shrug. Honestly, the thing I hadn’t considered when I suggested this hare-brained plan is that I’ve always been terrible at online dating—and dating in general. Most people I met were at industry events or set up by friends. I’ve swiped left more than I’ve swiped right. Even still, if Magnus will just listen to me, he’ll have a date in no time, and I’ll be free.
“I do not see why personal details will matter,” he says. “Keep it as is.”
“But it says nothing about you!” I shout. We are going in circles— again.
“I assure you, it says all anyone will care about,” he repeats. Ugh, I so do not have it in me to give this guy a pep talk. Still, I look into his eerie purple eyes and try to level with him, careful not to pull any punches.
“Okay, clearly that’s not true. You’ve reminded me how many times, and I literally do not care, and neither will any other mortal. This is a casual reminder that they don’t know vampires exist .”
“That is … a point I had not considered.” He slumps down next to me. “What do humans take interest in?”
“Okay.” I brighten at his ability to finally listen. “First you need to let people really get to know you.”
“But that is so much work,” he whines, falling back into his chair. “How will I find a bride before the wedding?”
“And kidnapping me has been smooth sailing?!” I stumble back, my vision spotted with red for a moment. Taking a deep breath, I try to center myself. I’ve got this. I’ve got this. Just stay calm, Heather.
“Point taken,” he grumbles. “But, for the record, I thought it was a—”
“Rescue. I know, I know!” I throw my hands in the air. “How would it have gone if it was?”
A blush covers his face before he gulps heavily and averts his eyes.
“You would have thrown yourself into my arms, and my bed, happily reunited with the man you fell in love with at first sight.” A cocky grin plays across his too-perfect face, without so much as a glimpse of the nerves he’d had seconds ago. He speaks flatly as if reading them off a script.
“I wouldn’t have just wanted a physical connection; I would have wanted something emotional too,” I admit. It’s not like I’ve never had a hookup before, but he pales in comparison to the monster waiting for me at home.
“I can, I will be patient. I understand all of this has been unexpected,” he says softly, “And, for the record, I am sorry. In truth, before you suggested this deal, I had a mind to let you go, even if it did mean I’d be a laughingstock.”
Like hell he did. I know his type; he’s just trying to find the right pretty words so that I’ll let my guard down.
“Focus on the dating profile,” I urge and damn . I miss Moth.
Magnus’s smile falters, and for a moment. our eyes meet. I’m struck by the undeniable sadness that’s heavy in the hues of purple. How long has it been since he’s let someone in?
“So, it won’t do to charm them with my title and good looks?” he asks, a little more pouty than I would have expected.
“It might get you some dates but, if you really want to date mortals, wait—” I groan. “Have you ever actually dated anyone?”
“Are you suggesting—”
“That your romance experience is mostly flings and grand balls?” I interrupt. “Am I wrong?”
“You’re not.” He hums thoughtfully tapping his chin “And you think I won’t perform well?”
“I think we’re starting at square one.”
“That settles it,” he says, grabbing my hand and pulling me toward the doorway. To my surprise, when he’s the one who pushes on the door, it ripples like it’s laced in portal magic. Interesting.
“Where are we going?” I shout, digging my heels into the ground.
“To practice.”
I have to admit, I’ve been curious about the Dragonfly Court ever since Holly mentioned the giant lily pads. I have to say, it doesn’t disappoint.
Magnus and I sit atop an oversized lily pad in the center of a lake; weeping willows stretch across the sky, their mossy ribbons creating curtains that divide the lake into different rooms. We are in the middle, where we can be seen by all; when the server flies to our table with menus in-hand, I can feel all eyeballs turn to us.
When he said he was going to take us out to dinner, I thought it would get me closer to the mortal realm, but this… this is more of a fairytale setting than Queen Plume’s castle.
“It is one of my favorites,” Magnus says, lounging on the lily pad as though it’s a picnic blanket. “I think you might like it too.”
“Oh, shut up.” Of course I do. I mean, there are tea lights and flowers floating in the water.
While my present company leaves little to be desired, it’s fucking magnificent.
“So, this is your court then…”
“My mother’s,” he corrects me, and there’s a break in his usually masked expression. So… half dragonfly fae, half vampire?
“But you don’t have wings,” I say. With the way he raises his eyebrow, I realize that was probably rude. But no, I’m not going to worry about being a jerk to the guy who kidnapped me—whether or not it was accidental.
“So, you shift too?” I ask.
“What do you mean too? ”
“Well, in the mortal realm, I just kinda suck my wings into my shoulder blades, I guess?” I say. “I’m sure you guessed I was human before.”
“I had my suspicions there was something … unique about you.” He laughs. “It was one of the many reasons I was drawn to your presence. You see, most people of the winged courts have a distinct pattern and a name to go along with it.”
I frown. It’s something I’ve noticed and googled after our first trip to Eclipsica. The bugs that exist in my world have patterns shockingly close to the wings that adorn the backs of my new family and friends—even Moth. Though, I think his pattern is softer than the Death’s-head hawkmoth, prettier too . Still, it’s made me wonder if the patterns represent the magic that bleeds across the realms.
“I thought you’d be a Luna by the coloring,” he muses studying me with an intensity that makes me shiver. “But the pattern is unlike anything I’ve ever seen.”
“And your wings are similar?” I press. He averts his amethyst eyes.
“You hide your wings by shifting in the mortal realm—the antennae too, I assume?” he asks with a deep frown, fully intending on ignoring my question. “Why not use a glamour?”
“Oh, it sucks, but it’s better than having invisible wings bumping into people all the time. Plus, everyone knows; when I’m home, I don’t shift at all anymore.”
Almost everyone. A pang of guilt shoots through me as I think of my mom.
I wonder what Moth is telling her while everyone sorts this out. I should have said something. It’s not like we never talk; things between mom and I have been healthier than ever, except for the whole me lying about being part faerie thing. Okay, not lying but also not telling.
“Are you shifting right now?” I ask, craning my neck to take another look at his back.
“No,” he says, his face falling into a grimace. I fight the urge to trace the space just above his shoulder to see if he has wings hidden there.
I could badger him more; getting him to hate me with awkward conversation could be an interesting strategy. With a sigh, I look out at the clear water, watching the dragonfly faeries fly so low they nearly skim the water, delivering orders to creatures of all shapes and sizes.
Despite our recent argument, Magnus seems more relaxed, lounging upon the lily pad with his fingers trailing through the water. The moonlight shines upon his hair, making the red almost appear purple.
“Can I take your picture?” I ask. “Just stay like you are.”
He brightens, slipping the phone out of his pocket and handing it over. As soon as I train the lens on him, that stiffness returns.
“Just try to be natural, like you were a second ago,” I coach. “Tense and untense your jaw, wiggle your arms a little—okay, now relax, relax— perfect! ”
I snap his picture; it’s not quite as at ease as how he appeared gazing into the water before, but it’s definitely an improvement.
“Where did you learn to do that?” he asks, still transfixed by the water. “I understand mortal technology is different, but the idea of capturing someone in their natural state is so…”
“Novel?” I offer, borrowing the words Oak used in his pitch to me. “Just wait until you see an instant camera.”
“If you are the one who will show me, I cannot wait.”
I roll my eyes at the shameless flirtation. I suppose the attempt shouldn’t surprise me since we are supposed to be on a date.
The server comes, interrupting our conversation and Magnus’s attention. The phone is still in my hand. I palm it, slipping the device into my bodice, hoping he won’t notice. Considering his eyes have a dreamy far away expression, I think I’ve gotten away with it.
While I bide my time, I turn my attention to the food that arrives—some kind of fish pastry with caviar on top for him, and what looks like pink roasted vegetables wrapped in bright green leaves for me.
“This is perfect,” he says, raising a cup of tea to his lips. For him maybe—but I’m on a date with the wrong person, and the phone pinches my ribs from its hiding spot urging me to find the right moment to escape.
“But temporary, you know that, right?” I say, knowing I should play nice, but unwilling to let his contentment slide.
“That seems to be common sentiment,” he huffs. I’m so sick of this. He knows I don’t want this, and the fact that he doesn’t care makes my skin feel tight—like I’m physically about to burst out of it. But it’s the word “common” that gets me.
“ Oh? ” I say. “Because if there happens to be someone else who thinks this is a terrible idea, I’d love to meet them.”
He doesn’t bother to give me an answer as he picks at his food. Interesting. I had assumed his meals would consist of golden goblets of blood, but it’s surprisingly human to see him take a bite of something that looks like it belongs in a seaside bakery.
“If you have questions, there is no need to hold back,” he says, poking at the food on his plate. “Your former lover may not have been a good guide when it comes to this realm. I promise to fill in any gaps he neglected.”
That sounds … weirdly sexual . Magnus must hear it too because his face reddens. He coughs as if to rid himself of any further awkwardness.
“With information , if that was not clear.” His inflection is clumsy and unmeasured.
“I’m fine, thanks.” Regardless, I’m bursting with just about a million questions that are still unanswered.
“Come now—humor me with your curiosity.”
“You can eat real food,” I say, a statement not a question, that’s actively being answered with every bite he takes.
“As long as all other needs are met, I function as anyone else.” He shrugs. “I suppose the faerie part enjoys it more than others of my kind. You will not see a lavish spread of cakes and sandwiches in my domain. Here, though…” He smiles down at the plates set before us, and I have to admit it all looks stunning.
“What’s up with all the stuff in the tower?” I ask. “No offense, but it looks less like a prison and more like a storage unit.”
“Have you considered it is neither?” His violet eyes level with mine. “More of a refuge for someone who spent … much of his youth alone.”
“So, it was your hangout?” I laugh. I guess normal kids have treehouses, maybe this is the fantasy version of that. “How many of the instruments can you actually play?”
“All of them,” he says, and I think he might be telling the truth. “Though I have a fondness for the Hurdy Gurdy.”
Despite myself, I laugh.
“What?” He balks. “It is the large stringed one, with the crank, and flowers engraved on the— why are you still laughing?”
Yet another reason not to trust Magnus. He’s definitely making this up to mess with me, because even in a world of faeries, vampires, and monsters, I don’t think an instrument called a Hurdy Gurdy exists.
“Is there a court you prefer?” I ask, pressing on and ignoring what looks like embarrassment on his face.
“It is hard to say.” He gestures vaguely to the serene setting around us. “The Dragonfly Court feels like walking through my childhood. This castle, however, is my future—one I have imagined with you.”
“No, you’ve been imagining someone me-shaped. We don’t even know each other,” I say, waving the thought away with my hand. I pick up something that looks vaguely like a carrot and dunk it into a pink dipping sauce. While I can’t quite place the flavor, it reminds me enough of a veggie platter to keep eating.
“Then let me get to know you,” he says, placing his hand on top of mine. His skin is cool and soft … and not Moth’s.
“Let me ask you this—” I free my hand and point at him with another one of the veggie sticks. “Who is your dream girl, and do not —I repeat, do not—say me.”
His lips curve into a smile.
“Then I fear I must remain silent,” he says. We might as well be on a reality dating show with how thick he’s laying it on.
“I don’t think you could if you tried.”
“See! That is what I like about you: the bite to your humor is so refreshing.” He tilts his head back with a laugh, and it makes me wonder…
“Magnus, if you want to find a girl to be mean to you, there are whole apps dedicated to that. I can—”
“ No, no —that will not be necessary.”
“Okay, but that’s an angle I can work with—and this whole possessive bad boy with a heart of gold thing isn’t working,” I groan. “Believe me, I would know; I’ve got one at home.”
“I beg your pardon!”
“It’s not your vibe.”
“And what is my vibe ?”
“That’s what I’m trying to figure out!” I snap, waving the carrot-like stick back and forth. By the way his brow furrows, I wonder if he even knows himself. How long has this man been performing and who is it for?
“You’re never going to be my type.” I shrug. “You’ll be someone’s, but we won’t know who until we—” An involuntary yawn escapes me and Magnus gapes.
“Am I boring you?”
“I haven’t exactly been sleeping well,” I reply, longing for the foamy lattes of the mortal realm or the strong black tea back in the Moth Court.
Without hesitation, Magnus signals the server over and orders something I don’t quite catch the name of. They flutter away, returning with a glass serving tray that mirrors the leafy shape of the lily pad we’re seated upon. On the tray balance two cups filled with light pink liquid that seems to glitter in the light.
“Try it,” he says, gesturing for me to pick up the small mug as he does the same. “It is a specialty in this region of the Dragonfly Court.”
“It is pretty,” I admit, raising the pink glittery cup to my lips. If he wanted to poison me, he would have already done so by now. The drink is fragrant with the scent of almonds and beetroot, and it’s honestly delicious. It reminds me of one of my favorite tea blends back home, though this one is much more sparkly. I don’t know if it’s waking me up, but it is nice. Once I’m home, I might ask Holly if she can find a sachet of it to add to my tea collection.
“What can I do to ensure you are well-rested?” he asks, and it’s weird how worried about it he seems.
“You could let me go.”
“A new bed perhaps,” he offers, steamrolling over the suggestion.
“It’s not the bed,” I huff.
“Ah.” His eyes glint. “Not used to sleeping alone then? That’s not what I heard…”
“What?” I snap. Considering I’m usually sandwiched between Moth and Sprout, things are the opposite of alone. I can’t imagine what he’s talking about.
“Last time you were in Eclipsica with your brooding fiancé, the servants reported he left you every evening…”
Oh.
Is that what it looked like to the rest of the world?
“That’s so not what was going on.” I’m not about to explain to this guy that Moth was processing a shit ton of emotions in the form of writing a novel. Magnus might have me locked in a tower, but he doesn’t get to know Moth. Not his kindness, not his vulnerability.
Let him think the love of my life will storm the castle and rip his throat out at any moment.
“I could stay with you until you fall asleep,” Magnus offers, and I nearly spit my drink.
“Absolutely not.”
“I’m not suggesting anything improper. I could sit at your bedside and read to you if that would—”
“That’s Moth’s job,” I snap, feeling my nails curl into claws. I gulp down the rest of the tea, trying to let the feeling build. I wonder if my transformation would scare Magnus enough so that he’d let me go. But not here… not when there are so many witnesses.
“Heather?”
“There’s a bathroom around here somewhere, right?”
“Around the corner, behind the giant green stalks to the left.” He points toward the main building that resembles an open-air cafe suspended above the water. “I can accompany—”
“Magnus,” I hiss, “you want me to feel like I’m not a prisoner, right?”
“More than anything.”
“Then let me walk to the bathroom by myself.”
He sighs, so lonely and pathetic.
My claws retract, and I let out a frustrated sigh.
“I suppose there’s little harm.”
The phone hidden in my bodice pinches as I flutter upward, moving toward the reeds Magnus had pointed out. Part of me worried it would literally be just a spot to pee in the lagoon, but, sure enough, there’s a building here.
Waiting until I’m tucked around the corner, I retrieve the cellphone, moving around until it finds a signal.
Without hesitation, I dial every number I can think of, hoping to hear his voice.