The first time Rys saw me dressed like that, he had to excuse himself to his bedroom. I didn’t see him until he met me in the kitchen for dinner.
Every night, though, I sleep in my own bed. Since our meeting with Oberon, I’ve really made the room mine. Rys gives me my space, and if I want to go into his room when I start to crave his touch, I clench my teeth and keep my legs pressed together and sleep my hands inside of my new panties.
God, I miss him.
But I can’t do it. He’s made it clear that he’s not willing to fight for us. That first night in his bed… it was a fluke. And, as far as I’m concerned, a mistake.
Days go by. I’m up to fifty-six and we still haven’t heard from Oberon. No surprise visit from Helix. No sign that Riley or Nine are ready to start our journey. It drives me nuts that I’m stuck alone with Rys again. It was one thing when he was my cellmate and I was falling for him. Now that I’m sure I’m totally lost over my scarred Seelie and he wants nothing to do with me? It’s fucking torture.
Okay. Maybe that’s not so fair. I have to keep reminding myself that it’s not really his fault. The magic of Siúcra is powerful, and it wasn’t really a sacrifice if it wasn’t meaningful. I should be lucky that I’m with him, even if I can’t be with him.
He tries. I’ll give him that much. He makes sure I have enough faerie food so that I never go hungry, and I don’t even want to know how much gold he spent to have an imp tailor come out to create my new wardrobe.
Then there’s my gift. On the second morning after our argument, Rys leaves a peace offering outside of my bedroom. A huge ass box filled with rolls of canvas, a set of paintbrushes, and close to a hundred jars of paint in colors that only exist in Faerie. An easel that looks like it was handmade is propped up against the wall. It’s all so very amazing and, when I realize that this is a gift designed specifically for me, I break down a little.
Once I’m all cried out, I set up the easel and, for the first time in months, I finally get the chance to create again.
For that alone, I decide to forgive Rys.
It’s been a week. We’re still waiting at Rys’s house, though something’s different today.
Something’s changed.
Rys wasn’t at the table when I came downstairs for breakfast. I’m not late—Lolly, Rys’s brownie servant, has already set out the morning meal so I know I came down right on time—and I go searching for him. It doesn’t seem right to sit down and eat without him. I might as well go and track him down.
It doesn’t take long. I find him in the fancy front room of his house—and he’s not alone.
Rys is standing in the middle of the room, talking quietly to a Seelie male leaning up against the high back of the settee. The Seelie sees me first, giving his head a tiny shake as if to alert Rys to my presence.
As if he didn’t already sense me walking into the room.
I can’t believe what I’m seeing, though.
&nbs
p; “Saxon?” The name just rips out of me when I get a better look at the seated fae.
At least, I think it’s Saxon.
He looks like hell. His bronzed skin has paled to a sickly yellow. He’s traded his guard uniform for clothes similar to what Rys wears around the house, but they’re destroyed. Absolutely ruined. I see gashes along the white sleeves, an oozing silver ichor staining the tears.
Is that fae blood? It looks like fae blood.
“Elle.” He nods in greeting, though his jaw tightens at the simple gesture. “It’s nice to see you again.”
“Uh. You, too.”
It’s a lie. We all know it is. Besides the fact that Saxon is a Siúcra guard who caused me to get lost in the Shadow Realms, he also looks half-dead.
What happened to him?
I don’t know. And, I realize as he shifts his weight gingerly toward the edge of the couch, I’m not about to find out. Now that I’ve walked in on them, he’s taking that as his cue to leave.
But not before he turns to Rys again.
“You owe me, Rysdan,” Saxon murmurs as he slowly pulls himself to his feet. “Next time it’s your turn.”
Rys holds out his arm, offering it to the other fae so that he can steady himself. To my surprise, Saxon actually takes it, nodding when he’s standing tall again.