105. Summer #3
Max groans. “I should get going. I’m doing inventory at the gym tomorrow morning.”
“On the morning of Yule?”
“Berserkers don’t celebrate Yule,” he says before kissing me and climbing out of bed. I wrap the sheet around me as he gets dressed.
“Try not to fantasize about me too much.” He smirks, and I glare at him, flipping him off.
He kisses me, and I bite his lip again.
“You’re killing me,” he groans.
“How?”
“Because I’m trying to leave before you feel like you need to kick me out.” Max shrugs. “I’m not trying to sleep over, but if we go at it again like we just did, I’ll probably pass out from exhaustion, and when I’m asleep, I’m asleep.”
I appreciate his candor and his respect for my boundaries. I could honestly do worse than Max, but luckily, we’re both securely in the friend zone and both severely phobic about commitment.
Anxiety flickers inside me, and I grab his hand as he starts to pull away. “Wait. You have your ring?”
“Yeah, and it took me forever to adjust to the wards on this thing,” Max says, holding up his hand .
“I’m sorry. I know it’s not great,” I say with a grimace.
“Shut up.”
I blink up at him.
“No more apologizing for something you didn’t do,” he says. “We can only take ownership of our own actions. No one else’s.”
I nod and blink away the emotions I can feel building on my lashes. I don’t know if I truly believe I deserve his forgiveness, but his words ease some of the guilt I have been carrying. Max chucks me under the chin and smiles before leaving.
I lie back in bed and look up at the ceiling, trying to process all the emotions roiling inside me.
I am sinking into the rhythm of the booming bass coming through the floor, considering letting it lull me to sleep when I hear a quiet whoosh beside me.
Startled, I snap my head to the side and find a small package sitting on my pillow.
I sit up and glare at the black peony on top of the box, able to see the tag with little fae written on it.
My heart speeds up, and my stomach flutters. It’s been over a month since I last spoke to him, and how did he get past the wards?
I allow myself a moment of vulnerability.
A moment of mourning for him. A moment to miss him, even though he doesn’t deserve it.
My hand trembles as I reach out to pick up the peony.
I lift it to my nose and inhale deeply before setting it down in my lap.
The present is wrapped in black paper with embossed flowers, tied with a matching satin bow.
Taking a deep breath, I lift the present and unwrap it carefully.
I reveal a red velvet box, and my breath catches in my throat when I open it.
Inside is a dark silver crown with sharp points wrapped in vines.
Their leaves branch out from the stalks, and nestled among them along the base are deep blue sapphires.
I lift the box, bringing it closer to inspect the crown, but a white envelope falls back to the bed, drawing my attention. I set the box back down and pick up the note. My name is scrawled across the front in the stranger’s elegant script. I open the wax seal and pull out the folded paper.
Summer
I know you have no interest in seeing me or speaking with me, but I thought I might return an artifact I found that belongs to you.
Inside, you will find the Crown of the Blessed, worn by your ancestor, Seelie Queen Titania.
It is part of a matching set, including the Scepter of the Cursed, which was wielded by the sister we read about last year, Unseelie Queen Maeve.
To my understanding, it is still held by the Unseelie Court.
I have done much research into what happened to the Courts and why we all seem to believe they never existed, but I kept coming back to that diary we read together.
At the core, it has something to do with the two queens, two sisters, both of whom are your ancestors.
It is my understanding that the king is unaware of the crown, and I would advise you to keep it that way.
As for my actions that banished me from your side, I am sorry. I have no justification. No excuse. Just an apology.
Happy Solstice, little fae.
—S
I read the note once, twice, three times, and only when a splash of moisture collides with the paper do I realize I’ve been crying.
He apologized, and I know how big a deal that is for him.
His regret is in every line of the words he wrote, and I can feel it oozing from the paper.
It breaks my heart all over again that it changes nothing.
He and I cannot be together. I understand him, and he understands me, but that isn’t necessarily a good thing.
Just because my darkness complements his doesn’t mean we should be together.
Does it?
All I know is that I feel wrong without him. I miss him, even though I shouldn’t.
I close the box, setting it and the peony aside. Lying down, I read through the note again, brushing my fingers over his words.
“Happy Solstice, Stranger,” I whisper into the void, not trying to stop the tears this time.