But he doesn’t.
“Together.”
Rys folds my hand into his. The second our skin touches, I feel complete. Whole. A feeling of contentment rushing through me, pure pleasure chasing hot on its heels. I don’t realize how much I’ve been starving for his touch until he takes my hand.
The apples kept me from getting sick. For the first time since I left Sicura, though, I’m not hungry.
He doesn’t react. If he’s experiencing even a little of what I am, he doesn’t give it away at all. He just tugs my hand and, like he promised, we walk through the portal together, Rys a few steps ahead of me so that we both fit.
He lets go as soon as we come out on the other side. My stomach tightens, and I’m not sure if I feel wistful or disappointed when he’s so quick to move away from me.
But then I see where we’ve ended up and, okay, this definitely steals my attention.
Morgan lived in a cottage. Veron lived in a palace. But this? This is a manor.
It’s a single, large house surrounded by so much pretty land. To my surprise, there’s one of the crystalline trees with the pink apples planted right in front of the house. I was under the impression that a tree like that only grew in the Fae Queen’s garden but, while the house standing behind it is lovely, it’s not a castle or anything.
It’s gilded. I don’t know why that makes me stare. The Seelie basically personify gold, so why wouldn’t a manor in its Court look like its siding is plated with the stuff? Like Morgan’s cottage, the windows are crystal, but it doesn’t have torches. Instead, acting like a porchlight, it has these sconces that are filled with fairy light, the same electricity-free, magic light they had in Siúcra. Only it’s not a harsh white light, but a soft pink.
So, so pretty.
“Where… where are we?”
“Home.”
I look at him again. “This is your house?”
For the first time in days, Rys’s lips quirk up a bit. “Impressed, Leannán?”
Am I that obvious?
I’ve always lived in apartments. I didn’t even know anyone who owned a house since my whole life I’ve spent it in the city. Rys’s stunning manor is huge. From the outside I can tell that it has two floors and who knows how many rooms.
Hmm.
“Does anybody else live here?”
“No. Just me. Oh, and Lolly.”
“Lolly?” It’s hard to tell in Faerie, but that sounds like a female name.
“Come inside with me. I’ll introduce you.”
I don’t know about that. Do I want to meet this Lolly?
Doesn’t look like I get a choice. Before I can come up with an excuse that doesn’t make me sound like an insecure idiot, Rys throws open the front door, waiting just inside for me to follow after him.
It’s bright inside, too. He has those same lights in every corner, though instead of pink, they’re—surprise—more of a golden hue. They’re not the only decorations on the walls, though. Rys has all kinds of art. Twisted sculptures, paintings, even a statue standing next to his oversized white settee.
Oh. Wow.
I’m an artist. I’ve been painting since I was a little girl, more than twenty years now. I’m not too bad at sculpting, and I’m a mean whizz on a pottery wheel. I know good art.
And my scarred Seelie’s front room is full of it.
Stepping into the middle of the room, oblivious to how I’m basically drooling—and not just because I have a perfect view of his tight ass—Rys calls out, “Lolly.”
That’s right. His housemate… who, to my overwhelming relief, turns about to be a brownie.