39. Puck
Eldoris and I sit in silence, straining to hear what’s happening on the balcony. Just before Lysandra arrived, the tree rattled an alert so violent it sent my newly moved books toppling to the floor. I was going to talk to her, but Edina shot me a look that wasn’t to be argued with and went outside to handle it.
The ice encasing the glass doors dampens the sunlight and muddies the view of the two females on the balcony, but I can see their shadows. I note the rigid set of Edina’s shoulders and the way Lysandra is curled in on herself. It doesn’t matter that she gutted me today, I hate that she’s hurting.
Lysandra’s blurred image swan dives off the balcony, and after a few more seconds, the ice melts and Edina slips inside my treehouse. She summons three mugs of hot chocolate piled with whipped cream and hands them to us like nothing has happened.
Eldoris and I exchange a what-the-fuck look but continue waiting as she settles on the couch beside me, throwing a knitted blanket over our laps.
“By the goddess,” Eldoris swears as Edina sips her drink. “Are we going to ignore what happened?”
My thoughts exactly. I mouth my thanks to Eldoris for being the one to ask.
“Hm?” Edina feigns innocence. “Oh, nothing.”
“What did Lysandra say?” I ask. She shrugs her slender shoulder. “Edina—”
“Fine,” she says with a roll of her eyes, then very slowly sets her drink down, stalling even further. “She wanted to talk to you. I told her to fuck off.”
I know she means well, but sometimes Edina is a good friend to a fault. She’s like a pixie—sweet and unassuming until one of her friends has been hurt, then she turns vicious and will shred you apart with her razor teeth.
“Hey.” I take her hand, forcing her to look at me. “I’m not mad at her.”
“Why the fuck not?”
“I haven’t given her a reason to trust me. I have no one to blame but myself for the way she reacted.”
There are a lot of things I’d do differently if I could go back to the arena today—least of all stopping myself from calling my magic. It was such a stupid, knee-jerk reaction.
But if I got a second chance, I’d kneel to her immediately.
Maybe it was my pride that didn’t let me see that path, maybe I was swept up in the romance of running away together, or maybe I was projecting my true desires onto her, but I didn’t consider letting her win until it was too late. I should have stepped aside and been the one to give her everything she ever wanted. I should have never asked her to give up her dream when I could have been a part of it. And I should have done it so much earlier.
“If you’re not mad,” Eldoris says, “then what are you feeling?”
“I imagine very similarly to the way you felt when you broke things off with Edina.” When I broke free of Titania’s thrall, I asked Edina for a second chance. She was already involved with Eldoris, and the idiot told her to choose me. Everything worked out for them in the end, but it was still colossally stupid on his part.
“So, you’re thinking of hiding in the jungle?” she teases. Eldoris mutters “brat” under his breath.
“I was thinking of the mortal realm.”
They gape at me. “You’re leaving?” Edina stammers. “The court needs you. You said yourself it’s flourishing and the Fae are happier than they’ve been in ages.”
I squeeze her hand. “I’m still bound to be Lysandra’s advisor, but I’m going to ask her to assign me to be Spring Court’s liaison with the witches.”
“I can’t imagine she’d say no,” Eldoris says. I nod and drink my now room-temperature chocolate.
“You’re giving up?” Edina asks, her voice bordering on shrill. “You’re going to walk away from everything you ever wanted?”
“I lost the crown.”
Faster than a vampyre, Edina smacks me upside the head. Eldoris scoffs, trying to hold in a full laugh. “Not the crown, you asshole. Lysandra. The first fucking thing you’ve chosen for yourself.”
I rub the back of my head. “A minute ago, you were telling her to fuck off.”
“Because I want you to make her grovel, not because I want you to run away.” She pinches the bridge of her nose. “By the goddess, you males. Why is it you’re intent to fuck up everything good that comes into your lives?”
“Hey,” Eldoris and I say in unison.
“Here’s what’s going to happen.” She grabs my cheeks and spins me to face her. “You’re going to let her stew in her decisions for the night. Then, tomorrow, you’re going to go hear whatever she was going to say when she came here. And then, if you still want to leave, you can go.”
“She doesn’t want me.” I can’t ignore that Lysandra rejected me twice in two days. We’re clearly not on the same wavelength, and maybe that’s my fault too. How could I expect her to trust me when I proved myself untrustworthy? Yet another thing to add to the list of regrets I have when it comes to her.
“You don’t know that,” she says. “And you do not get to throw your life away over a miscommunication. Behave like the five-hundred-year-old you are, and use your words.”
“That’s brutal, kitten,” Eldoris says.
“Too bad. Someone needs to tell you old-ass males to start acting like adults.”
“You’re not my mother, Edina,” I quip.
“But I know where she lives, and I’m not above getting her to smack some sense into you if that’s what it takes.”
“Savage,” I say on an exhale. She’s about to lay into me again when she catches my smile. I might hate it when Edina’s right, but I can’t deny it when she is.
I shouldn’t make any decisions until after I speak with Lysandra. I’m not optimistic enough to hope she came here today to tell me she loves me, but she wanted to say something. And I owe her an explanation.
“I should talk to her now,” I mutter.
“No,” Eldoris says, surprising me with his conviction. Even Edina looks shocked at her betrothed’s agreement. “And not because you’re letting her stew.” He shoots Edina a look. She responds with a very mortal gesture. “But because you both need a night to clear your heads. If you go now, emotions will be high and you might say things you don’t mean. Take the night; think about what you want to say.”
Edina gives him an approving once over, and then says to me, “He’s very wise.”
“It’s because he’s an old-ass male.” She smacks me playfully across the chest and then shifts so she can lay her head on my shoulder. “Do you have to go to the ball tonight?” I ask.
Edina coughs twice. “We’re sick.”
“It’s a horrible illness,” Eldoris adds. “It’ll keep us out of all royal events until the coronation.”
“And healers can’t figure out a remedy.”
“But you know what helps? Thai food from that new restaurant in the Seelie Army base.”
“Oh, yeah!”
They continue adding to their farce, joking and playing around. I can’t help but laugh. The fact that I’m laughing at all today is a miracle, and I’ve never been more grateful that Edina is in my life—Eldoris too, no matter how reluctantly.
“Does that sound like a plan?” Edina asks when she and Eldoris have had their fun. “We can bring the food here if you don’t want to go out.”
“Is the spare bedroom in your townhouse done?” I ask, and they both nod. “Can we go there?”
“You don’t want to stay here? We’ll stay with you—”
“There’s only one bedroom, and I don’t want to hear the two of you fucking on my couch.” Edina opens her mouth to protest, but I cut her off with the arch of an eyebrow. She bites her lip to hold in a laugh, unlike Eldoris, who is howling.
We all stand so we can teleport to the nearest portal, but I snag Edina’s hand and pull her into a hug. “Thank you.” I meet Eldoris’ eyes above her head. “I don’t know what I would have done without you both today.”
“I know, we’re kind of awesome.”
I swat Edina on the ass. I expect her to squeal or run away, but she smacks my ass harder, then laughs as she skips away to take Eldoris’ hand.
I don’t teleport directly into the palace the next day; I’m too afraid Lysandra has updated the wards to keep me out and what that will say about our impending conversation.
I’ve never been more nervous. My hands are sweating and I keep wiping them on my pants, which has wrinkled them. Eyes forward, I ignore everyone as I walk over the drawbridge, through the palace grounds, and past the front door.
Everything looks the same, but it feels colder. The magical lights that flicker like candles used to be homey, but now they draw my attention to the somber gray stones. The suits of armor that were a unique decoration feel like they’re watching me. And the potted plants all seem to shrink away as if I’ll harm them now that I don’t live here anymore.
The staff smiles when I enter, but I see their shifting eyes and hear their hushed whispers as I pass. In all fairness, the last time I strode through the entrance of the palace when I wasn’t interim king, I killed the queen.
“Excuse me, Melia,” I say, snagging the attention of the brownie who is known as the premier seamstress in the realm. She looks me up and down, her narrowed eyes revealing she finds me lacking. “Have you seen Lysandra?” She arches an eyebrow. “Her Highness,” I amend.
“Throne room,” she replies gruffly, and then turns and leaves faster than her little legs should allow.
When I reach the doors to the throne room, I roll my shoulders and go over everything I’ve prepared to say. When Lysandra and I are guarded, we bring out the worst in each other, and I’m determined to keep this conversation from dissolving into an argument. Or sex. Not that I wouldn’t enjoy the sex, but this is important.
As I grip the golden handles, prepared to open the doors, I hear laughter.
Peering through a small crack in the door, I see Izar, Larisa, Hades, and Lysandra arranged on the dais, going over the coronation ceremony. Izar is playing the part of the priestess, while Larisa is poking and prodding Lysandra, showing her where to go. Hades has taken it upon herself to act as every monarch, using glamour to change her appearance each time she needs to behave like a different one.
“And this is when Zahir—” Larisa starts.
“Wait,” Hades says, then screws up her face and morphs into her brother’s doppelganger. I don’t hear what she says over the collective laughter, but even Hades can’t keep a straight face and the glamour dissolves.
My eyes linger on Lysandra. Her big brown eyes are sparkling and her cheeks are pink. There’s not a trace of sadness or anger marring her face. By the goddess, she looks beautiful.
“You coming in?” I whirl around to find Baxter standing behind me. He’s holding a basket of baked goods and a picnic blanket slung over his shoulder. Despite finding me leering through a crack in the door, his expression is gentle and without judgment.
“We’re about to have lunch,” he continues. “I happen to have your favorite lemon bars—if your tastes haven’t changed in the past few centuries. Join us?”
In the past, I would have. Today, I shake my head. I’m not going to be the one that takes away her joy. Not today. She deserves to be happy leading up to her coronation.
We can talk after.
Baxter digs into the basket and hands me a lemon bar with a wink before moving around me into the throne room. Everyone cheers when they see him, and I watch as they all jump off the dais to where he sets up the picnic blanket. Lysandra coos as he hands her something with chocolate, then proceeds to snip at Larisa who tries to get her to eat lunch before dessert.
Just as she’s about to take a bite, she looks up, her brown eyes connecting with mine for half a heartbeat before the door closes with a resounding click.