My stomach sinks as his words cleave my heart in two. Not only will Aspen have to marry someone else, but he’ll have to marry Maddie Coleman. The girl I despise more than any other in my village. “Of course it’s her,” I mutter, a bitter smile on my lips. I remember how jealous she’d been when we met outside the Holstrom farm, how she’d boasted about being selected as backup Chosen if the Holstrom girls didn’t work out. She was livid when she realized Aspen had requested me by name. Of course, I was livid too. Still...could this somehow be her doing? Her jealousy might be believable, but I can’t imagine her having the power to orchestrate this new development, even with her uncle being Sableton’s mayor. No, there’s something much bigger behind this.
With a deep breath, I curl my fingers into fists, nails biting into my palms. “This is the only way to avoid war?”
Foxglove nods. “The mayor wants me to agree to this new arrangement when we meet tonight. If I do, I’ll be leaving Sableton with the new Chosen by midnight.”
I don’t know what to say, so I remain quiet, eyes shifting out of focus as they fall on the wedding gown hanging near Lorelei’s arm.
Foxglove wrings his hands. “King Aspen, however, has ordered me to refuse.”
My eyes snap to his. “What?”
“If it comes down to breaking the treaty or accepting the new Chosen, he’ll take the former.”
“And bring war to us all?”
“He has his reasons,” Foxglove says, “and many of them are sound. Even as an ambassador, I understand there’s only so much one can take before fighting back.”
I rise to my feet with every intention of storming to Aspen’s study and breaking down his door. But Foxglove rises as well, palms held up facing me, as if to keep me in place. “I didn’t tell you this to use as fuel in a fight with the king.”
I let out a bitter laugh. “Well, I’m using it anyway.”
“I told you this because it’s far more personal to you than you know. The mayor has your mother. She’s being detained by order of the human council. If Aspen refuses to accept the new Chosen, not only will there be war, but your mother will be executed.”
4
The blood leaves my face. “They’re going to execute my mother? What does she have to do with any of this?”
Foxglove’s brows knit together. “She’s being imprisoned, charged with treason for hiding your supposed fae heritage. It’s illegal for any fae to live on the Eisleigh side of the wall, much less pose as a human. She’s being held responsible for jeopardizing the treaty. While Aspen’s decision to accept the new Chosen should have no impact on your mother’s life, I’m guessing they wanted to make it harder for him—or you—to refuse.”
Rage heats my core, and it takes all my effort not to strike the nearest piece of furniture. “When are you leaving to meet with the mayor?” I say through my teeth.
“Mid-afternoon.”
I’m about to say more when a shadow darkens my doorway. I don’t need to face it to know it belongs to Aspen.
Lorelei comes up beside Foxglove, shoulders tense. “We should give you some privacy,” she says, then pulls him toward the door. Their heads bow low as they approach the king, but his eyes burn into Foxglove.
“You told her,” he says with a snarl.
Foxglove, to his credit, meets his gaze without so much as a tremble. “I’m sorry, Your Majesty. She deserved to know.”
Aspen steps aside, allowing the two fae to pass, then slowly meets my furious gaze.
“Were you just going to let my mother die without telling me her life was at risk?”
He closes the distance between us. “I came to tell you everything.”
“Everything? Everything, everything? Or just the parts you wanted me to know?”
“I wasn’t going to let them execute your mother.”
The fact that he didn’t fully answer my question tells me plenty. I put my hands on my hips. “Oh, and what were you going to do about it?”
“I don’t know yet.” He throws his hands in the air. “I would have come up with something. Break her from imprisonment. Steal her to Faerwyvae. Slaughter everyone in my path until I had her safely away.”
I’m surprised that he’d be willing to go so far for my mother, yet terrified at how easily he can consider taking lives to save her. Even so, it would only solve one problem, not all of them. “That still wouldn’t save the treaty, Aspen. They gave you another option, and you told Foxglove to refuse.”
“Yes,” he admits without shame.
“Why?”
“Because I’m not going to lose you.” The hurt in his eyes takes my breath away. My heart threatens to crumble at the vulnerability on his face, the fear in his eyes. But then I remember what it means, what his dedication to me would cost.
“Don’t make this about us.” My words come out with a tremor. “We are nothing compared to the importance of saving the isle from war.”
His vulnerability fades, retreating beneath the steely mask he wears so well. When he speaks, his voice is barely above a whisper. “Nothing? Is that really what you think we amount to?”
No, we’re so much more than nothing. You are so much more. “Yes.”
He shakes his head, narrowing his eyes at me as his lips pull into a bitter smirk. “I don’t believe you.”
I take a step toward him, meeting his smirk with a glare. I know my next words will sting, but they’re the only weapon I have. My only defense against his fierce dedication, even though I know it will kill me to use. “Why? You think you know me so well just because you took me to bed once?”
His expression hardly falters. “I do know you.”
“If you did, you’d know I’d want to do anything to keep the treaty from being broken.”
“Even if it means giving me to another woman?”
My stomach churns at his words, at the images they conjure. I swallow the word I really want to say and replace it with a lie. “Yes.”
He turns away from me and storms over to the decanter of wine on the bedside table. “I’m not going to do it,” he says, then knocks back a glass of the deep red liquid.
“Yes, you are. If that’s what it takes to save the treaty—”
“Maybe the treaty isn’t worth saving.”
My eyes go wide. “How can you say that? If the treaty protects our people from war, then of course it’s worth saving.”
He lets out a shaking breath, running his hands through the blue-black hair between his antlers. “This isn’t a treaty, Evie. It’s a blade our councils toss from one side to the other, waiting to see who gets cut first. I’m tired of playing the game. I’m tired of watching both sides point that blade at me.”
His words send a chill down my spine. I can’t let myself consider whether he’s right. Didn’t I say nearly the same to Lorelei? I’m tired of living in fear of this treaty. I shake my head. “If maintaining the treaty means lives can be saved, then it is worth saving in return. So long as there’s a choice that means peace, then that’s the choice we have to make.”
“It isn’t a choice if I have to make it.”
For the love of iron, he’s stubborn. “Even if you’re right about the corruption of the treaty, do you think war is going to make things better? Can you honestly live with yourself, knowing you’re the cause of the destruction that will follow?”
“If it’s in the name of freedom, then yes.”
Heat rises to my cheeks. “Well, I can’t.”
Aspen pours another glass of wine and knocks it back, chest heaving as his eyes remain locked on me. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying I can’t be the reason my people suffer. You know this.”
“Your people. You do realize war would affect both humans and fae, don’t you?”
“Of course I do.”
“But it’s the humans you care about more.”
I cross my arms over my chest. “I’m trying to protect your throne too. I didn’t face Cobalt for nothing. If
you refuse the human council’s offer to maintain the treaty, the fae council will finish what Cobalt started.”
“The All of All chose me. The council will honor that.”
“The All of All chose me,” I argue. “If the Council of Eleven Courts thinks the treaty has broken because of me, the ruling of the All of All won’t matter. They’ll turn on both of us.”
He presses his lips tight but makes no argument. Probably because he knows I’m right. “There must be another way.”
I uncross my arms, letting some of my rage drain out with a sigh. “I hope there is too. That’s why I’m going with Foxglove tonight, to see if I can prove I’m not what they think I am.”
“Like hell you are. It isn’t safe. If the humans consider your mother a traitor, you could be in danger as well.”
“I’m not going to sit here while my mother suffers, not if there’s something I can do about it.”
“If anything can be done, then Foxglove will do it. There’s nothing you could do that he cannot.”
“I could prove they’re wrong.”
“And if they aren’t?”
I can’t consider that possibility right now. I can’t. Not when it means...
“If they aren’t,” I say, “then I face the consequences.”
He sets the wine glass down, shoulders slumped in defeat. His voice comes out like a growl. “I don’t want to lose you.”
I force my words past the lump in my throat. “If Foxglove can sort out this madness, then you won’t have to. My mother will be released, the treaty will be secured, and I’ll return to you.”
“Promise me.”
I shake my head. “I need a promise from you. Promise me if I don’t come back, you’ll marry your new Chosen.”
His fingers curl into fists at his side, but he remains silent.
I burn him with a glare. “Promise me you’ll do what needs to be done for the good of both our people. Promise me you’ll save the treaty. If you can’t do it for the sake of the isle, then do it for me.”
He glares right back. “I promise.”
“What are you promising to? All of it?”
“I promise if everything goes to hell, I’m going to make a decision neither of us is going to like,” he says through his teeth.
It isn’t the promise I asked for, but at least it’s one he can keep, considering there’s no solution I like. I hate all of it. The dissolution of the treaty. Aspen marrying Maddie Coleman. My mother being imprisoned and threatened with execution. Where do I stand in all of this? What happens to me?
“Fine,” I say as I turn toward the door.
“Wait.”
I shouldn’t stop, but I do. Not daring to look back at him, I focus on his slow footsteps drawing near. A thousand heartbeats seem to pass as I hold my breath in anticipation of him. My pulse races even faster as his body presses into my back, hands wrapping gently around my waist, fingers splayed over my stomach. My body responds to his touch, a wave of desire blooming inside my chest as I breathe in the rosemary and cinnamon scent of his skin.
“Don’t leave yet.” His voice is deep, pleading, heavy with emotion as he nuzzles into my neck.
I close my eyes and angle my head, allowing him closer, his lips grazing the skin at my collarbone.
“We have time,” he whispers. “We should make the most of it, just in case...”
He doesn’t need to finish the sentence for me to know what he means. If everything goes terribly, this could be our last moment together. Ever. I might never see him again.
The thought is so crippling, tears spring to my eyes, and I feel my knees buckling beneath me.
With one hand warm on my stomach, the other brushes along my jaw, turning my face toward his. Our lips are just a breath away. “Evie.”
I want nothing more than to close the distance, to feel his lips on mine. With one move, I could fold myself into him, feel the comfort of his arms, the heat of his body. What if this really is our last moment, our last memory together? My breaths are shallow as I fight the searing desire pulsing through me. I know I must fight it. Because if I give in now, I don’t know if I’ll ever have the strength to leave again.
I turn my lips from his and step out of his grasp. “I have to go.”
This time, he doesn’t stop me as I make my way to the door. But as I reach the threshold, he says, “Come back to me, Evie.”
I pause for only a second. “I can’t promise that.” Then my feet fly beneath me, taking me as fast from Aspen’s room as they can go while sobs tear from my throat.
I may not be able to promise Aspen I’ll return, but I can vow that every step I take away from him feels like a knife twisting in my heart.
5
I’m almost to the sanctity of my parlor when my feet are forced to slow.
A figure glides toward me, one with golden-brown skin, honey-colored hair, and yellow butterfly wings. Queen Dahlia is the last person I want to see right now. I’m in no state to entertain a guest, and her cheery smile is an infuriating contrast to my pain. I quickly wipe my cheeks dry before I pause outside my parlor door and offer the Summer Queen a curtsy. Hoping beyond hope that she’ll ignore me and pass me by, I avoid meeting her gaze.
“My dear Miss Fairfield. Is everything all right? You look positively wretched.”
I clench my jaw, letting my irritation overpower my anguish. Luckily, the lies flow from my tongue with ease. “There was an accident this morning, Queen Dahlia. I attended the wounded but am overcome with grief over those who perished in the caves.”
“So I heard,” she says with a scoff. “Serves them right, using explosives in such a manner.”
I bristle at that, even though I agree that using them had been reckless. All I want is for her to leave so I can be alone, but I can’t resist my urge to use words against her now that she’s sparked my ire. “How much longer are we to be graced with your company? You were quite generous in lending Bircharbor your weather, but I must say it’s dry now. And there is such a thing as too much sun.”
She gives me a simpering smile. “Perhaps a few days more, Miss Fairfield, just to be sure. I do hope we can spend more time together. I think the sun is starting to do you good. One would almost say you don’t look so drab.”
I force an exaggerated grin. “Almost.”
She takes a step closer, lowering her voice, although her expression remains unchanged. “I do hope nothing is amiss. I heard the king received a vexing correspondence.”
The grin falls from my lips, and I don’t try to remedy it. “The king’s correspondences are his business, and he will attend to them appropriately.”
“Oh, I know he will.” She lifts a dainty hand and lights it on my shoulder. “It’s just...I worry about him. He is a very, very dear friend of mine. We’ve known each other for many hundreds of years. I’m not much younger than he is, you know. You could say we grew up together.”
I purse my lips, wondering if I’m reading too much into her words, into the purr in her tone. “Your care will warm his heart, Queen Dahlia. I’ll pass it along to him.”
“Oh, don’t worry, Miss Fairfield. I’m sure I’ll tell him myself before then.” With that, she gives my shoulder a final squeeze and brushes past.
Heat blazes my cheeks as I stand frozen in place, lips immobile no matter how many clever retorts surface in my head. I know it’s too late; I can barely hear her buzzing wings behind me anymore. Still, I can’t shake my irritation. What was she suggesting? That she has a greater chance of seeing my mate before I do? That she...has been seeing him more than I do? Or does she know I’m leaving and might never return?
I might never return…
The thought extinguishes my rage, reopening the wound left by my conversation with Aspen. His pleading voice fills my mind, his beckoning touch. Come back to me, Evie.
My chest heaves with a sob as I dart inside my parlor and slam the door behind me.
Lorelei finds me inside. I’m perched on the gro
und in front of my couch, knees pulled to my chest as I weep into my hands. She crouches at my side and lays a soft hand on my back. “You’re all right,” she whispers, her voice a soothing hum. “Just breathe.”
I gasp a shaking breath, forcing my sobs to recede. I haven’t broken down like this since...since I thought my sister had died.
“I brought some of your things from Aspen’s room,” she says.
The sound of his name sends a shard of glass through my heart, and it takes me a moment to comprehend what she means by my things. That’s right. For my journey. I inhale deeply to steady my breathing, a sense of urgency clearing my mind. It must be mid-afternoon by now, and I’m not sure how much time I’ve already wasted. I rise slowly to my feet. “Did you talk to him?”
She nods, expression grave. “We should get you cleaned up and packed.”
I let out a sigh of resignation and reach for one of the bags she brought, plopping it on the couch. I freeze when I see what’s been laid at the top of the pile of clothing within—a crown of gold shaped into a circlet of swaying leaves. I reach for it but stop myself. “Why did you bring this?”
Lorelei shrugs. “King Aspen told me to.”
“Why?”
“Perhaps he wants you to wear it to meet with the mayor. It wouldn’t be a bad idea. Let the human council see you as the Autumn Queen. Let them see you aren’t someone to be trifled with.”
I shake my head. “I don’t think posturing as fae royalty will do me any good in this instance. Not when it plays so well into their accusations about my heritage.”
“Then perhaps just take it with you.”
“No.” My throat tightens. “It doesn’t belong to me. I won it as Aspen’s champion. I won it for him, for Autumn.”
“And he gave it to you.”
I take the crown in my hands, gingerly, as if it could burn me. Without so much as looking at it, I place it on the tea table in front of the couch. “If it’s meant to be mine, it will still be here if I make it back.” If. The word crushes my lungs.
To Wear a Fae Crown (The Fair Isle Trilogy Book 2) Page 3
