“Riley is my mate.” I’m expecting a flat answer when the Unseelie finally speaks and boy do I get one. His voice is rougher than any other fae’s I’ve heard, harsh at the same time as it is lyrical. A contradiction that makes me almost as nervous as he does. “You didn’t think I’d linger in the Iron if there was any chance you’d try to lay hands on her again, did you? And I’m not your old friend. If it wouldn’t upset her, I’d finish what she started.”
While Rys chuckles—and I look back and forth between the two fae, trying to figure out what’s going on here—Riley spares a second to scowl at him before she murmurs, “Nine—”
His voice softens as he turns toward her. “I know. I know. You can take care of yourself.”
She rubs his arm. At her soft caress, the Unseelie—Nine—tamps down the glow a bit. “We’re in this together.”
“Always.”
Oof. Jealousy slams into me like a punch to the gut. I don’t need to know what’s going on to see how close these two are, or how much they love each other.
I want that. I lost it with Jim a long time ago, and I thought I might’ve found it with Rys, but watching these two? I’m jealous—and I definitely don’t like that.
Rys makes a little humming sound. “Honestly, now that I think of it, I should be asking the same question of the Shadow,” he remarks, completely at ease despite the open hostility pouring off of the Dark Fae. What is he doing? Why is he acting like this? “She did what she was destined to do. Melisandre is dead. Oberon has his crown again. I thought you two went off to live your happily-ever-after in the Iron.” His smile turns smug. “A true fairy tale, right?”
Nine’s silver eyes gleam angrily. “I didn’t want to return. I’m doing this because the Summer King asked us to come.”
Lucky them. I would’ve much rather been asked than threatened.
“That’s enough!” Oberon’s voice booms, drawing everyone’s attention back to his throne. Huh. Wow. Can’t believe I actually forgot about him for a second. “All four of you are my guests. I’ve called you here for a reason. Now stop this bickering nonsense and let me tell you why you’ve come.”
“Before you do that, please allow me to say something first.” As soon as he addresses Oberon, the Seelie I know is back. Tall, proud, arrogant, and assured, he drops the humor, the teasing, and the charm as he tells Oberon, “The Dark Fae are plotting against you, my king. You might want to rethink inviting Ninetroir. He’s one of them, and even if he wasn’t, he’s spent the length of your latest reign in the Iron, pretending to be human. You want me to prove my loyalty? I’ll do it gladly. But there’s no reason to involve the Shadow or her dark mate.”
Hang on. I was… I was wrong. He’s not flirting anymore, but this Rys? He’s as much a stranger as the other one.
There was such a sneer in the way he said human that, for the first time in a long while, I’m suddenly reminded that Rys is fae. And the fae feel a certain way about humans, don’t they? He might feel some sort of attraction for me—no denying that since, every time we touch, sparks fly—but is that the whole “fated soul mate” thing at work? Is that what it is? He’ll give in to the temptation because he’s hedonistic and as possessive of his toys… of his pet as any of the other fae I’ve met but, at the end of the day, he’ll never forget th
at I’m human—and that that automatically makes me less.
I’m not listening to the posturing between the two males any longer, or the king trying to rein them in. Their conversation is happening somewhere over my head. I don’t care. All I can think about is how much I wanted to believe that, because fate picked us out to be together, we’d end up that way. Through our time in Siúcra and the oubliette, through the sacrifice that Rys is fighting to overcome, to my acceptance that I could make a life here with him and be happy about it, even as I ache to go home one last time.
I should’ve known better. My luck has always been garbage. Why would that change now?
Honestly, no one even notices me standing here. I don’t understand why Helix insisted that Oberon wanted me here since, this whole time, I’ve just been part of the background. If they’re not going to pay me any mind, shoot, I’d prefer to take a look around the king’s throne room. There’s so much beautiful art hanging on the pristine walls and that’s such a bigger draw than standing here like Rys’s discarded human.
I slowly inch away from him. He doesn’t seem to notice.
Unfortunately, someone else does.
“Elle of the Iron,” Oberon calls out. “Where are you going? I don’t believe I gave you permission to leave.”
Oops. Busted.
While I immediately stop, I hear Riley say to no one in particular, “Her name is Elle?”
That’s right. I’m so unimportant that no one even though to introduce me.
Feeling a little put out, I decide to answer her. “It’s what I let people call me.”
“Yeah. Okay. I get that.” With a shrug, she asks me, “Been here long?”
I don’t have to ask her what she means. We both know she’s not talking about Oberon’s palace.
“Long enough.” And then, because I can hear the bitchiness creeping into my tone—and from the way she raises her eyebrows but doesn’t say anything, so does she—I admit, “I don’t really know how long it’s been.”
Riley lets it go. Probably because she’s had enough experience in Faerie to understand what I’m actually saying—and realizes from the protective way I regarded my name that, no matter how long I’ve been here, it’s definitely long enough.
I dare a peek over at Oberon. “Sorry,” I say quickly. “I just wanted to look at some of the paintings on your wall. I didn’t think anyone would notice.”