Chapter 17
Talvie
“I’m sorry, Daria. I thought I had a good handle on the dishes.
Is this because I didn’t sort the cutlery before washing it the other night?
It was just that I thought I could sort them all easier when they were clean.
” And when there’s not so much disgusting food bits stuck to them, because I still get grossed out.
“But I know Ludo showed me with it sorted first, and I didn’t realize it was an issue to do it the other way around, but of course I can do it that way from now on. Uh, assuming there is still a now on…?”
Daria’s hands are on her hips, silver braid draped elegantly over one shoulder, and that gaze pinning me in place. “Girl, what do I always tell you?”
My brain spins.
Comes up empty.
“Not to use too much soap? I’ve been so careful since that first time!
I know that was a disaster, and I’m still so sorry about that, or…
oh, do you mean about going slow around the corner in the kitchen so I don’t crash into anyone again?
I’ve been really trying, and I know I rushed a bit yesterday, but that was only because chef shouted, and I thought I did something, so I was hurrying to fix it and—”
“Breathe! I tell you to breathe, Val. Drowning deep,” she curses low, “who made you this way?”
Well.
That…just.
That.
I mean…
My shoulders slump. I never actually thought about the effect of Taynia’s cruelty and coldness, but that’s it, isn’t it? I’m worried that everything I do is wrong, or annoying, or in the way, or, or, or…wow.
Every time she yelled, sent me away, withdrew affection, or chastised me, it all built up to make me into this terrified mouse, a shadow of my former self. Why didn’t I see it until now?
I used to run through the palace corridors, swipe pastries from the kitchen, train with ice blades with Beron, and relish each next adventure, even as I longed to leave the palace more often.
Now I’m worried about everything, including ridiculous stuff that is far smaller than my predicament of hiding from the huntsmen.
I haven’t just donned a disguise, I’ve made myself the size of Hugo.
Worse…I think it started long before I fled from my old life.
Daria clocks the heavy sigh that slips through my lips and grasps my shoulders.
“I wasn’t pulling you off dishes for doing a poor job, girl.
Quite the opposite. I’m giving you a day off tomorrow because you’ve earned it, and not for any other reason.
Then I thought we could use you in the tavern again over-morrow. Do you feel ready for it?”
“Oh. I—yes, thank you. I can do that.”
“Good.” Her smile is warm. “If any Pointy pricks come in again, you just leave them to Ludo, you hear? He’s got thick skin, that one.”
I smile back, because Ludo’s scaly forearms do seem pretty tough. Plus that vivid green hair that warns people off. “Are you sure you don’t need me?”
“Not as much as you need a rest. Now take this plate and enjoy your evening.”
Automatically, I pull the cucumber slices off the tray, only to find Daria raising a silver brow at me. “Lark doesn’t like cucumber,” I say with a shrug.
“He’s never said anything to me.”
“Well, he wouldn’t want to offend when you’ve been so nice to send leftovers even though they’re not paying for meal service anymore. I just noticed he always shuffles any cucumber to the kids.”
“You certainly seem to know him.”
“Do I? I guess so. I mean, we live in the same small space. We even sleep in the same bed, not that it’s like that, because you know it isn’t like that, and he’s a total gentleman even when I…uh, well, but it’s fake, of course. The ruse, and all that.”
“Yes, the ruse.” She picks up a cucumber slice. Daria understands me.
I snicker. “It’s funny, actually. He has to use a fork or something to prod any cucumber away from himself like it might leap up and bite him. Seriously, you should see his face.”
Daria crunches the slice. Obviously, she also thinks Lark’s face is too adorable when he scrunches his nose that way.
“Well, you know. You’ve seen him. It’s impossible not to smile whenever he does, right?
I mean, the stupid dimples alone are enough to trip anyone up, with that jawline and the perfect teeth.
It’s like my father used to say, ‘Keep your wits and you can disarm anyone with a smile; it’s all in the type of smile.
’ And I think that applies just as much here as in—ouch—” I rub the skin under the cold moonstone.
“I mean it applies to everyone, but double for dimples. You should see how he wrangles the kids with a fast quip or a joke that just magically gets them all falling in line.”
Daria shifts to lean against the counter. She crosses one ankle over the other.
“See? I knew you’d get it. It’s a problem. He’s dangerous with that smile! Sometimes I even find myself following without realizing, acting like I’m part of the family even though we know it’s just fake.”
“Fake,” Daria agrees. Of course she agrees.
“Yes, fake. All fake. We even have a no-flirting rule, because Lark flirts with absolutely everyone and it gets confusing with the acting and all. You know, now that you mention it, I’m going to tell Lark he needs to stop with those smiles.”
Daria lifts a silver brow.
“Yes. No smiles. Too dangerous. Maybe we’ll just go with no-looking.
That should work both ways. I mean, I can’t help noticing him, of course, so sometimes he sees me looking, but I catch him looking too, so really it makes sense if we just don’t look at each other.
” Then I won’t have to see him watching me with those jade-honey eyes.
“Sounds perfectly logical.” Yep, Daria gets it.
“Yes, no looking. Maybe no talking.”
“Sure, sure.”
“Yes, absolutely logical. It’s the only way. I’ll see you tomorrow, Daria.”
“I just gave you tomorrow off.”
“Right. Yes. I knew that.”
“Enjoy it. And no looking,” she says with a flick of a silver eyebrow.
“Yes. No looking.”
“Or talking?”
“You may have a point there, Daria. Not talking does seem difficult. I mean, what if it’s about the kids, or dinner plans, or, well, anything? No flirting, though. Absolutely no flirting.”
Daria coughs. “Absolutely.”
Lark’s sleepy morning smile always comes with a dimple that makes me want to shove him over on the mattress for being so stupidly handsome. Why does he smile at me like that every morning? And since when do I find any Wilder Fae handsome? This town and this disguise are messing with my head.
But like I told Daria, I’m definitely not looking.
Not when I wake up with the warmth of Lark’s sleeping figure next to me.
Not when he wakes and stretches his arms high over his head as he sits up, muscles flexing in his back and shoulders.
Not when he turns toward me with that terrible smile, showing off his chest and the soft white fur scattered across it.
I never look there, especially not when I get home late and Lark is sitting in bed shirtless, reading a book while Eevi slumbers in her crib. I definitely don’t look then.
The talking though…I can do the talking.
I’ve got this.
“Good morning. Sleep well?” asks that husky morning voice I’ve come to know.
“Uh huh. Sure. Yup.”
“You don’t sound sure.”
“I’m, yes, sleep…good.”
He chuckles. “Sounds like someone needs coffee as much as me this morning.”
Neither of us moves to make that happen. I only scoot back against the headboard while the blanket pools at my legs, Lark’s gaze following the motion. I need to tell him about the no-looking rule.
I’ll do that. Soon.
“We should get to know each other better, don’t you think?” I blurt. Because talking. Talking is good. “I don’t even know your last name.”
“For our ruse? Or is this just because you find me irresistibly fascinating?”
“No! I mean…yes, I—no, wait. Um, for the ruse.” My inability to form words makes his stupid dimple pop and my cheeks heat. “You’re impossible, you know that?”
“I do try,” he says with a low laugh. “And for the sake of our fake futures together, my last name is Hyveri.”
“Good fellow?” My lips curve at the meaning. “I like it. It suits you.”
“I promise I’m not always good.” He winks.
Heat floods my cheeks, and now I’m remembering how his body felt, so warm and solid at my back as we slept. How good he felt there. How I wished I could press back into him, feel him against me…
“And you, Val. What do we call you?”
“Halla—” I cough at the blast of cold from Lumi. “Um…jaad.”
Lark flusters me so much I almost blurted out the royal name of Hallavarn.
You are flustered, Valkie. Focus, Lumi urges.
Yeah, I noticed.
Lark quirks a brow. “Your name means frosted … frost?”
“Yes. Uh huh. Yep. I am very cold, see?” I wiggle my fingers, sending clouds of shining frost billowing through the air.
I totally saved that. Take that, Lumi.
Lark is still smirking, but it turns warmer. “I don’t know. You don’t seem cold to me. You’re actually very warm, Val. And hot. Don’t forget hot.” He says it with a look over my body that leaves me tingling everywhere his gaze traces.
I cough. “What happened to our no-flirting rule?”
He shrugs. “Told you I was bad at following rules. But, if you wish.” Leaving it at that, he bends to pick up his shirt, tugging it over his head as he rises.
And no, thank you very much for asking, I was not done looking at his chest, or at the sexy patch of downy white fur.
I was not done with the flirting either, no matter what my traitor mouth blurted out in self-preservation.
Valkie, your heart is beating rather quickly. Lumi has mastered the obvious today.
Where did this attraction come from? I’m normally unaffected by looks.
I certainly have my pick of suitors at the palace, with plenty of offers to accompany me home after every royal revel.
Yet even when I choose a partner (which only happens occasionally when the loneliness of my chambers is too daunting to face), I never feel this level of desire.
I find my partners attractive, sure. I enjoy what we do together, but they don’t send these bolts of electricity through me even at the pinnacle of lust and bodies joining.
It’s good, but when it’s over, I don’t feel the pull toward them, the longing for more, the need to keep touching.
So why am I feeling those things now, when Lark and I haven’t even…
You know what? I’m just stressed. Pent up. That’s it.
All this closeness is foreign to me, and my head and heart are overcrowded. It’s the only possible reason for me having these thoughts about a Wild One, for Deep’s sake. I need to follow my own rules. Starting now.
“What are you doing today?” I ask, snapping the tension.
Lark isn’t fazed.
Obviously.
Flirting is just his personality. He has no reason to suspect the turmoil that just ran through me, or any reason to be affected by me in the same way. Why would he when he only knows me as Val?
As Talvie, the Princess of the Hinterlands, I offer status and wealth. Prestige. It makes sense for fae to want to get close to me and the power they think I wield.
But as Val, I’m a Wilder girl with nothing to offer Lark except the bargain we’ve already agreed to.
Besides, if he knew who I really am, he’d hate me.
They would all hate me if they knew the truth, and with good reason.
Now that I’ve seen the damage caused by the permafrost, the Point Fae, and my family in particular, I can’t even blame him for hating everything I stand for. Stood for.
Hugo darts from under the bed with a squeak, and Lark scoops him up without missing a step toward Eevi’s crib, depositing the wriggly hedgehog into his pocket so he can reach for the toddler.
“I thought I’d take the kids’ lessons outside today,” he says.
“You’re welcome to join us. I bet you haven’t seen much of our forests out here. ”
I haven’t, actually. He means because I’m supposed to hail from the seaside, not because I’ve been cooped up behind chamber walls within palace walls inside of city walls, but it remains true.
My walled existence didn’t allow for much experience of the world outside.
Even with guards and huntsmen to protect me, I can’t remember the last time I was free to roam and explore.
My desperate journey through the woods to get here is a distant blur from a previous life.
Now, nothing sounds better than exploring nature with a gaggle of excited childlings for distraction. And as a buffer between Lark and me.
“I would love that,” I say sincerely. Lark’s returning smile is equally genuine. “Oh, and to answer your earlier question, Lark… Both. Of course, I find you interesting. You’re possibly the most interesting person I’ve ever met.”
Then I flee from the room…at a totally calm and measured pace.
Because I am a princess, and a princess does not flee.