Ferrous (Fae's Folly Book 1)

by Valerie Mars

Well, fuck it. Let’s make like Summer and enjoy the memories.

  “Next time I can teach you how to dougie,” I say, even though the best I can do is show him what it’d look like to shake a turd from my jeans. At least there won’t be any smartphones around to capture footage.

  28

  Mallory

  I notice Clara’s absence—my absence—most when left alone with my thoughts. When given the opportunity, they slither out from their hidey-holes and remind me of every time my human senses lagged behind a fae’s or instances in which I used a turn of phrase outside their culture. And that’s before I spiral into the crippling analysis of what I’m to do with all these men.

  Ferra saved me from that fate last night when she barged in and demanded I recount everything that happened with the “creepy staircase dweller guy.” Once I explained the situation with Griffith, Enzo leveled up so far in her mind that she was disappointed when I later informed her we only hugged before saying goodnight.

  I conveniently left out the part where Bash and I made out the night previous.

  But my thoughts have left their hidey-holes as I push around scrambled eggs and sigh into my coffee. Kai’s boots wait on the floor in a shopping bag. I’m hoping to find him before Ryland inevitably finds me. Any hope of a decent conversation after that palate-cleanser would be naïve or wishful thinking. And selfishly, I want the conversation to be as light-hearted as possible because Kai deserves it and I’m hoping to appease the guilt that lingers in my gut.

  Guilt. It’s here for a different reason than before, but looking back it’s clear guilt’s always been a part of my relationship with Kai. Before he knew I existed, I watched him from afar, feeling guilt over robbing him of any consent. Then I refused to believe him, so he injured himself to sway me. I made myself feel better by wrapping his hand. Now I’m looking to patch the guilt created by kissing his closest friend.

  I look up from my garbage heap of a plate to find said friend only a few feet away. Hair wavy with sweat, he’s bearing down on me with a beautiful smile while holding a plate with no fewer than eight sausages. I haven’t seen him since he dropped me off, but the kiss he left me with at the door sends butterflies to mingle with the guilt.

  “Morning, Mally-girl,” he says, plopping his giant body down with such nonchalance that I worry for the chair. “I missed you yesterday. How was the date with Twyla?” Seeing his face alone improves my mood by magnitudes. He digs into the sausages and like five dozen eggs while I describe the day. Same as everyone else, he’s never heard of Enzo. I explain the stairwell meeting and jam session, adding that we practiced fire-water-cold.

  “So I’ve come prepared today,” I declare while flashing twin cold signs like a gangster.

  “No prizes for winning, but I like your spirit,” he mumbles between mouthfuls.

  “Doesn’t matter. I came to play, baby.”

  He looks up mid-sip, lowering his glass. “Don’t threaten me with a good time.”

  “Are you back to training after this?”

  “If that’s alright, love. I have a lot to catch up on, but I’d like to see you tonight.”

  “You’re alright with this, then?”

  He reaches across the table for my hand. “Mallory, I was sincere about what I said the other night. I feel good when I’m around you and I don’t want to give that away until I’m made to.”

  I could cry into my coffee, but settle for squeezing his hand. “It’s going to hurt, you know.”

  “Anything worthwhile does,” he replies, leaning in for a kiss. It’s a quick peck over in an instant, but it’s just what I needed. “By the way,” he says, throwing a napkin over his plate, “why have you brought a pair of shoes to brekky?”

  “They’re Kai’s, actually. I had a shit-fit and rushed him out of my room the other morning, and he left without returning for them.”

  “What did you do to him, Mal?”

  “I like how you assume it was my doing,” I flippantly reverse. “But you’re mostly right. He brought up me calling him ‘yummy’ during the s’mores session, and in the fog of emotions that ensued I basically shoved him into the hallway.”

  “You ran.”

  “Yep.”

  “And how was it he made you feel?” For a guy who doesn’t know about psychology, he’s sounding very much like a shrink right now.

  I’m about to ruin everything by admitting this, but keeping it to myself seems worse. “My first thought was embarrassment, of course. The second emotion was guilt. Immense guilt for saying something so suggestive and then proceeding to make out with his best friend. Especially when I’ve had a crush on him for months.”

  “Luckily for you, Kai doesn’t know females exist. It isn’t a path that’s conceivable in his world. Kai is a Shadow, Mallory. I know you haven’t been here long, but you’ve seen enough to know what that means for him.”

  I think back on all the moments he blushed or the thought he went through not to place his hand on my leg back at the inn. “I don’t think that’s entirely true. Either way, I feel like a dirtbag.”

  “I doubt he noticed. But if he did, that’s for him to work through. You’ve done nothing wrong outside rudely stealing his shoes.”

  “Twyla said fae sometimes take multiple lovers,” I blurt out. “Is that true?”

  He leans back in his chair. “This is becoming an exceedingly memorable breakfast. Aye, it is true. Not for everyone, but for many.”

  “What would you say if I said I still feel something for Kai while feeling something for you?” I want to stuff the words back into my mouth the moment each departs. Why can’t I accept the gift that is Bash and shove everything else into the back of my mind? Twyla’s little seed of hope is only making me greedy.

  “I would say you’ve gone fishing on a dry lake bed. But I don’t want the beginning of us to be the theft of what could have been between you and Kai, of all people. Not when a mortal life is so short. Not when we only have you a week. And especially not if it’s robbing a good friend.” He lays his hand over mine. “Go see what you can wring from that lake bed, love. Then come visit my bed,” he finishes with a wolfish glint to his eyes. “And don’t you dare feel guilty for having this conversation.”

  “Nice catch,” I say, because it was already beginning to brew. However, I do wonder if the truth behind his demeanor rests in his belief that Kai doesn’t notice girls. “About the shoes, though. Do you know where I can find him?” Not the smoothest subject change, but there isn’t the faintest hope for smooth at this point.

  “With the number of Shadows lurking around these days, I’m betting you can whisper Kai’s name into a dark corner of your choosing and find the message has been received.”

  “I legitimately cannot tell if you’re joking or serious.”

  “I’ll try if you try.”

  “You two know we’re entering a war, right?” I turn just in time to catch Zeke materializing beside a curtain. Yep. Still creepy.

  I snort. “Will you let him know?”

  “If it gets me out of having to hear about more of your love woes, I’ll gladly play the messenger,” he says, flashing the peace sign to his side while leaving.

  “That was both convenient and violating,” I murmur.

  “I’m sure our conversation was banal compared to some of the stuff they—” He stops, nodding. “Will do.”

  “Huh?”

  “Everhart’s ready when you are. The usual place.”

  “Radical. I’ll wait a few minutes for Kai and then face the music. He’s gonna be sour grapes over the mortal tainting of his baby sister.”

  He squints his eyes, probably over my grapes slang. “You know where to find me if you need some time with a wigged mannequin,” he says, gathering his dishes. I stand and do the same. When I look up, he’s leaning across the table so far that I get traces of sandalwood. His eyes are honeyed and warm. “Kiss for good luck?”

  “I’m going to need all I can get,” I reply, meeting h
is lips.

  By the time we return our trays and exit the dining hall, Kai is waiting outside. Bash greets him before jogging off toward the training grounds. I can’t imagine how he’s going to handle that after all he ate, but judging by his stacked frame, he knows what he’s doing.

  “Hi, Kai.” I hold out his boots.

  “Hi, Mallory.” He takes the bag with a thin smile. “How are you?”

  “I’m pretty great, barring some obvious stuff and the way breakfast ended yesterday.”

  His shoulders relax, like he’s been waiting to broach this topic all day. “I’m sorry for making you uncomfortable. Sometimes I say things without realizing how they’ll affect people. It’s a weakness of mine.”

  Hold up. He thinks the issue was him?

  “I’m so sorry you felt that this entire time. You’ve done nothing wrong. In fact, I was unhappy about what I said. All you did was present the truth, and I handled it horridly.”

  His lips part. “You aren’t upset with me?”

  “Heavens no—Kai, I’ve been feeling guilty this entire time. About pushing you out and about calling you ‘yummy.’”

  He tilts his head. “Do you not think I’m yummy?” Why on Earth and Faerie did my brain have to choose that specific word?

  I sigh, probably releasing a piece of my soul in the process. “I’ve thought you were yummy since the first day I saw you on the balcony. I had been wanting to talk to you for ages, but was too intimidated by your good looks.”

  “I see.” Both of our cheeks are feverish, and it crosses my mind how hypocritical it is to love his blush but detest my own. “Please don’t feel intimidated any longer. I like talking to you and would like to talk more,” he states matter-of-factly—as if it were that simple this entire time. From here on, maybe it can be?

  “I’ll try. Want to walk and talk me to Ryland’s study?”

  “I do,” he says with the makings of a smile. “I was reading last night. Have you ever heard of a hippopotamus?”

  “Does this realm not have them?”

  He shakes his head. “Tell me what you know.”

  “This is going to sound nuts, but hippos secrete a pinkish-red mucus that protects them from the sun.”

  “Keep going.”

  And my parents said working at a daycare wouldn’t pay off.

  29

  Ryland

  “I obtained that information using my feminine wiles, you know.”

  “I hope you didn’t have to go too far,” I reply as we trace the same route I took yesterday out of the citadel. Feeling stifled by even the walls of my study, I found myself in the Spring gardens with a few pumpkins large enough to meet Mallory’s Cinderella expectations. My hope is to extend a bit of an olive branch after our last meeting by taking her there.

  “No worries. It turns out you can bleach all remnants of lust by mentioning you’re a Separatist. It’s an effective combo breaker on assholes.”

  How lovely it would be if it were as effective on me. “Not all power derives from magic,” I say, pointing the direction we’re to walk. She snorts.

  Poppy Viridian and her mortal reading predilections aren’t of concern, but the conversation between Griffith Talonwood and “Tristan with the blue hair” piques my curiosity. All of it is hearsay, but rhymes with my own misgivings on the coming war. Father, one to drone endlessly about politics, has been abnormally mum on the subject. One could dismiss that as caution, but an excess of secrecy can lead to suspicion of conspiracy. My own uncertainty in the truth has led to several sleepless nights long before Mallory entered the scene.

  She hasn’t improved the situation.

  Father isn’t the only one culpable, however. There’s an entire council at his back, a majority of which enacted Oberon’s Clause. They must have their reasons for withholding information, and sickly Techies isn’t novel. Still, I need to attempt sating my curiosity in the matter. At the very least, I must relay this to Father. Conversations like the one Brooks overheard in the tavern catching popularity will only sow discord, and that’s the last thing we need.

  “Where are we going, anyway?”

  I flick my gaze sideways to where she walks. Wisps of auburn have escaped the pale blue ribbon holding back her hair, the shorter lengths falling around her face. They echo the red leaves that crunch and crackle under our feet. And they echo home. On second glance, I recognize the ribbon as one of the few items I selected. It suits her.

  “I have a reward for your efforts. It won’t take much of your time.”

  “Does it rhyme with ‘mortal?’”

  “Unfortunately not. But I do think it’ll bring you joy.” Believe me, I’d get you home if I could.

  She searches my face for clues, her eyes narrowing. I begin preparing a counter to every jape she could form on the matter, but thankfully hold my tongue. For in a confounding turn of events, her reception to my statement is amicable.

  “It’s been a heavy morning, but hearing you’re of the mind to deliver me joy alone is enough to lift my spirits. You have my interest, Ryland.”

  It isn’t a response I thought imaginable. Truthfully, I’m not sure what to discuss if we aren’t occupied with arguing for once.

  “Are you prepared for the festivities this afternoon?” I broach.

  “If by festivities you mean fire-water-cold, I’m good to go,” she says, displaying the cold signs with each hand. I don’t understand what she’s doing with her face, scrunching her features into a friendly looking snarl of sorts. Stars, please stop.

  “I’ve heard it’s different for your people. Who taught you how to play our version?”

  “My Spring friend Enzo. He’s a bard.”

  “I’ve never heard of him.”

  “Well, Twyla has.”

  Ah, dear Twyla. What meddling have you been up to? “You three were together yesterday during the shopping?”

  “On and off. Enzo was performing at the tavern, and we rode back to the citadel in a carriage together. Enzo and I continued to my room, where I taught him a Techie song,” she says with finger quotes.

  My blood turns cold. “That was dangerous, Mallory. You won’t be doing that again.” But if Twyla allowed it, he likely had pure intentions. But still. Twyla has been fooled before.

  She exhales with ferocity through her nose, silent for several beats before speaking. “I will probably do it again. But I will take your opinion into consideration should a new person desire to enter my room.” It isn’t the explosion I anticipated, but her terse tone doesn’t shy from expressing her annoyance.

  My jaw is already clenching. I breathe in and out, echoing Mallory’s pause. Don’t ruin the pumpkins with your knuckle-headed temper, Ry.

  “Not everyone will back down from hearing you’re a Separatist. Proceed with care.”

  She nods. “Heard.”

  “It shouldn’t happen, but are you prepared to explain your lack of power if the council calls you to the stage? We’re going to the gardens, by the way.”

  She gasps, her breath catching in her chest while her open mouth morphs into an open grin. An actual, honest grin. “Are we really? I’m so excited to see it! Do you think there’ll be—”

  “I’ll spoil nothing.”

  She pouts. “Fine. As far as the show-and-tell goes, I’ll explain that I’m fresh and am hoping to gain power soon. Both sides of my family excel in healing, therefore my prediction is that I’ll come into that.”

  “I see no problems there. Well done.”

  She’s squinting at me again. “Thank you.” We soon near the garden entrance, so I pull out the blindfold I prepared with repurposed dress socks and hold it before her. “As I said, I’ll spoil nothing.”

  She wrinkles her nose. “It had to be socks?”

  “Oh, don’t pretend your rose-scented boots didn’t impress you. Moreover, I know you like my scent, Mallory.”

  The wrinkle in her nose dissipates. In fact, all wrinkles disappear as her expression slackens. I cau
ght her off guard with that one.

  Yellow eyes bore into the earth before returning to mine. “Cardamom, right?”

  “Among others.”

  “When I first smelled it, I was reminded of home. My mom drank cardamom tea all the time. I used to sneak sips from her thermos, or sometimes she would make it on the weekends.” She licks her lips. “It’s one of my favorite scents in the world, actually.”

  I shouldn’t inflate with pride over something I was merely born with, but here I stand, puffing out my chest. For once, I have something of my mother to thank. “That must have been a juxtaposition for you, given our tension.”

  “It’s had its moments,” she admits, “but it was super comforting on my first night here.”

  I stretch the blindfold and squash the part of me glad that she found comfort. “Ready?”

  Her eyelids press shut. “Don’t let me trip.”

  “Of course,” I reply while situating the blindfold over her eyes. She lifts her hair, sending a wave of pomelo and bergamot to assault my good senses. Little does she know that her assigned scent is one of my favorites, too. I secure the blindfold, questioning whether it was wise to go through such lengths to surprise her. “Is it alright?”

  Goosebumps appear on her neck. “I think it’ll stay.”

  I situate myself directly before her. “You’re clear to advance straight until we hit the entryway, but I’ll lead.” Taking her left hand, I navigate us to the section with Cinderella’s pumpkins.

  “Are we here?” She lifts her hands to untie the blindfold.

  I catch either wrist before she can reach her head. “Uh-uh-uh, hold on a second. Do you remember the question you asked me before our first study session?”

  A small smile breaks out beneath her blindfold. “Pumpkins?”

  “Big enough to sit inside, Princess.” I let go of her wrists. “Have a look.”

  She drops the blindfold and looks up at me. “Ryland, I can’t see if you’re standing in front of me like that.”

  “Oh.” I step to the side.