Chapter 9
TWENTY-SIX YEARS OLD
Cali squeezed Dean’s middle in a bone-crushing hug, her arms wrapped tight as if she could anchor him in place. “When will you be back?”
He awkwardly patted his fiancé’s back, the gesture stiff and unconvincing “I don’t know. Weeks, at least.”
She stepped back and looked away, her gaze darting away.
The pain she tried to hide needled at him, but he couldn’t marry her—not without confirming for himself that Fawn was truly dead.
First, he would attend the Mountain Prince’s coronation.
Afterward, he would demand access to the Mountain Kingdom’s birth records.
If his mate wasn’t listed, he’d move on to the Human Kingdom.
If a death certificate existed, he needed to see it with his own eyes.
He’d written to the other royals once, years ago, asking if they had a record of her. Each reply had been the same: no. Still, his soul would not rest until he saw the records himself. Foolish? Probably. But he needed to do this.
“I wish you’d see reason,” Cali whispered, her voice frayed at the edges.
“If I don’t do this, you and I will never be happy together,” Dean explained gently. The lie that they’d ever have a chance at happiness burned in his chest. He doubted he’d be happy with anyone other than Fawn, but he could pretend.
Tears shimmered in her eyes, catching the light. “Because you refuse to let go. We’ve been together for over a year, but you won’t touch me. You won’t even try to form a connection past friendship.”
He gave himself a moment to respond before answering, steadying his breath so he wouldn’t snap. “Don’t ask me to let go of something you don’t understand.”
“You think I don’t understand wanting someone who’s isn’t here?” she demanded, her voice incredulous. “I love you, Dean, but your heart isn’t here . You’re miles away, pining after the idea of someone you’ve never met.”
Dean recoiled, stunned. “ Love ? You don’t know me well enough to love me.”
Cali’s expression hardened, her jaw tightening. “Don’t tell me what I feel. You think I don’t know you?” She let out a sharp, bitter laugh. “I know you love radishes on your salad and ask for extra.”
His brows shot up. He hated radishes. Once, Braddock had told the cooks they were his favorite, and ever since his salads had come piled with them.
“I know you only fuck in places you’ll get caught,” she continued before he could cut in. That was true at least.
“And I know your favorite color is blue.”
It wasn’t. He wore it because it was the Garden Kingdom’s royal color.
Cali wasn’t cruel. She wasn’t even unkind. She was simply… Cali. Sheltered, adored among the nobles, coddled by her parents, and rarely told no—even when she should have been.
Instead of correcting her, he played along, letting a sardonic smile twist his lips. “That is stalking, sweetheart, and I don’t appreciate you violating my privacy.”
Cali bristled. “I’m observant, you ass. I don’t stalk you. I pay attention. Don’t tell me I don’t know you or that I don’t love you because I do.”
His amusement thinned into something hollow. “You don’t, Cali,” he sighed. “If you knew the part of me I don’t show, you’d run.”
“Let me in and I’ll decide for myself.”
Dean twisted the gold ring on his finger—a family heirloom he had always intended to give to Fawn.
His mother had brought it to him to give to Cali, but he didn’t think he could put it on her finger.
It belonged to his mate and no one else.
Instead, he would purchase Cali a breathtakingly expensive replacement, and she would be none the wiser.
“Nothing you say can change my mind about looking for Fawn,” he stated plainly. “I told you because I refused to deceive you but make no mistake — I am doing this.”
Cali swiped at a wayward tear, her chin tilting in stubborn resolve. “Then I’ll be here waiting.”
Fawn had never had a real friend outside of her parents, but burying a body with someone forged an unbreakable bond.
After Warren’s betrayal, she hadn’t thought she’d trust anyone again. Yet somehow it had been surprisingly easy to open up to Naomi. They had both grown up in the Human Kingdom and hated (and buried) the same man. Turned out they didn’t need much more in common than that.
Fawn’s grandparents decided it best for Naomi to move out to the ranch with them instead of returning to a fae kingdom on her own. The last thing they needed was whoever hired him to come sniffing around, asking questions.
To think that a murder attempt led her to this moment was almost enough to make Fawn thankful for it.
Almost. Naomi’s booted feet swung wildly as she tried to throw herself over Ivy’s back.
Fawn knew the proper steps to mounting—she’d seen her family do it countless times—but her brain refused to accept the logic of putting all her weight on one stirrup without the saddle rolling sideways.
Grandpa had explained it more than once. Didn’t matter. The only way she’d ever end up on horseback was if someone slung her dead body over the saddle.
“Help me!” Naomi squawked. She’d gone at it all wrong and used her upper body to heave herself across the saddle instead of her leg. One foot hung in the stirrup and the other flailed helplessly as her torso draped across Ivy’s back.
Fawn considered helping but had already warned her not to try riding without Grandpa there to supervise.
Naomi had ridden a handful of times, sure, but not enough to risk it with only Fawn watching.
The fae Shire horses were generally gentle in temperament but it wasn’t uncommon for a mare to fuck with someone for the fun of it.
They’d never hurt Naomi, they were too well trained for that, but they would put her through it.
Right on cue, Ivy pranced to the side, robbing Naomi of the mounting block, and the frightened girl shrieked. “Fawn, help me!”
Ivy dipped her head to scratch an itch against her front leg, utterly unbothered by Naomi’s plight.
Meanwhile, Naomi fought to yank her foot free of the stirrup, hands scrabbling at the saddle.
“Grab the saddle horn with both hands,” Fawn instructed, tone patient but dry.
“Push yourself upright with your left leg.” Naomi mimed the motion slowly, hand wrapping the horn as she straightened.
“Good. Keep your weight on your left foot and hoist your right leg over the saddle.”
Naomi threw her leg in a clumsy arch and let out an unladylike grunt. “I did it!” she hollered. She lifted both arms in triumph, then wobbled dangerously and clutched the horn again. “I can’t wait to tell Grandpa.”
Fawn snorted. “He’ll kill you for trying without him.” She circled Ivy, laying a steadying hand along the mare’s flank before moving toward her head. She flashed Naomi a thumbs up. “You did great, killer .” Her friend scowled at the morbid nickname.
“Ivy, bite her,” Naomi commanded. The mare ignored her and instead nuzzled into Fawn’s arms, searching for a treat.
Fawn laughed and pulled a horse muffin from her pocket. She couldn’t bake worth a damn, but over the years she’d perfected treats for the horses. They didn’t care what they tasted like.
Ivy happily devoured the treat from Fawn’s flattened palm and immediately nosed for more. “You should sell those,” Naomi suggested, petting Ivy’s mane. “The horses love them.”
Fawn waved her off. “Baking all day? Not my idea of fun. I only started because I was bored as a teenager. Now I keep it up because the horses are spoiled.” She ran a hand down Ivy’s velvety nose and cooed. “Isn’t that right?”
A rough-legged hawk screamed overhead, startling Ivy. The horse jerked and moved in a nervous dance. Naomi, being the seasoned rider she was, screamed and clamped her legs tight. The mare bolted.
Naomi’s scream echoed across the pasture as she clung to the saddle horn. Her hair flying behind her like a banner. If she hadn’t looked terrified, it might have been a beautiful picture.
Fawn sprinted after them, lungs burning. “Relax your body!”
“I can’t fucking relax!” Naomi screeched. “I’m going to die!”
Grandpa appeared over the hill, eyes wide as he glanced from Naomi to Fawn. Fawn doubled over, hands braced on her knees, breath ragged, while Grandpa dashed for the barn.
Ivy loped gleefully around the pasture, clearly in it for the sport. Fawn had a sneaking suspicion the mare was screwing with Naomi at this point. Grandpa flew from the barn, bareback on Raider, his black stallion, and cut across the field in a straight line toward Naomi.
Within minutes Grandpa had both horses stopped and Naomi safely on the ground. His voice carried all the way back to the barn, scolding her about safety, supervision, and the importance of turning a runaway horse into a tight circle.
Naomi trudged behind him, cheeks flushed, hair sticking out at wild angles. “I’m sorry, Grandpa.”
Fawn reached for Ivy’s reins, but her grandfather shook his head. “I’ll put them up for the night. You take Naomi inside.” He glanced at the frightened woman. “Horses aren’t playthings. You could have been hurt.”
“Yes, sir,” she mumbled. Fawn hated the defeated look on her face. If her father had been here, he’d have known how to soften the sting without excusing the mistake. Without thinking, Fawn scooped up a snowball and let it fly. It splattered across Naomi’s face, cold and wet.