“A brownie from the Godmother is never just a brownie,” I say.
“You know she wouldn’t hurt Arden,” Seven interjects. “Godmother can be brutal, but she’d never harm an innocent.” He’s followed us from the tearoom and is lingering in my peripheral vision like a mosquito just out of reach of the swatter. I sneer at him.
“Arden.” I take her by the shoulders. “I know this was a lot, but do you think you can go back to Grandma and Grandpa’s without me? I need to talk to Seven. I promise you, whatever happened back then, they’re not as horrible as you might think.”
She places both hands on her stomach. “I know. I get it. I mean, it was a long time ago.”
“It would be natural for you to have… feelings about Grandma and Grandpa after learning what you did today. Whatever you’re feeling is fine—”
“Mom… Seriously, you were a pregnant teenager, barely older than I am now. It’s not that big of a surprise that you or someone in your life considered the alternatives.”
A lump forms in my throat thinking about those days. “I never considered it.”
She throws her arms around me and squeezes. “I’m okay. Really.”
I don’t release her until I’m convinced that somehow this hasn’t scarred her as much as I was expecting. “I’ll meet you there then. We’ll get something to eat.” Neither one of us has had a proper meal since the night before my last poker game. “This won’t take long.”
“Take your time. I’ll be fine.” She gives me a half wave as she turns and strides in the direction of Enchantment. “Bye, Seven.”
Seven waves cheerfully and offers her a crooked smile that makes my blood boil. As soon as she rounds the corner, I turn on him with the rage of a thousand feral wolves. “What’s your angle? Why would you do this to me?”
His smile fades, his eyes wrinkling at the corners. “Do what to you? I paid to have you rescued. That’s something I didforyou, nottoyou.”
“You’re… up to something. Convincing Godmother to assign me to this case… thingy? Is this your way of torturing me? It wasn’t enough to grind my face into the dirt in front of the entire population of Dragonfly. You have to assert your dominance the moment I return like some sort of… some sort of alpha dog. Is this a game? Is it fun for you?”
“At the moment, nothing about this situation feels fun,” he grits out. “And you know as well as I do no one convinces Godmother of anything.”
We both freeze and smile brightly when a human enters the square. I barely move my lips as I ask through the smile. “Can we go somewhere private to have this out properly?”
“Love to,” he says through his teeth. Before I can protest, he grabs my wrist and yanks me toward a door labeledCharacters Only. He doesn’t release my hand, even when we are safely on the other side. Once the door is locked behind us, he drags me between two giant fir trees that mark the boundaries of fae territory. Humans can’t come here or see or hear anything that happens back here. This isn’t the Devashire fairies want them to know about. No, that would be Dragonfly Hollow with its bright colors, cheerful characters, and magical shops and restaurants.
Humans have no idea that at the edge of the woods at the back of Dragonfly Hollow is a lake, and across the lake is a wall that separates us from a dark secret. The wall looms on the horizon in all its marble glory, linking mountain to mountain, its ancient architecture radiant with even more ancient magic. It’s been years since I thought of this place. How easy it has been to put it behind me.
I tear my hand from Seven’s and turn on him. “How dare you? How dare you, after what you did to me! Baiting me, leading me on for months, then ghosting me in the most humiliating way. All the promises we made to each other. I trusted you, and you hung me out to dry.”
“It’s not what you think, Sophead.”
“Stop calling me that!” I used to find the nickname endearing. Now it just feels condescending.
“Why? It happened right here.” He gestures toward the lake. “Right before our first kiss.”
“Fuck. You.” I point a finger at his chest and charge him, teeth bared. “Fuck you for even bringing that up at a time like this.” I gather myself. If this was a poker game, I might as well push my chips across the table right now. I’m an emotional mess, and emotions like this trigger poor, illogical choices. Is it his mere presence that’s making me crazy or the fact that I’m exhausted and stressed to the breaking point?
“We were fifteen. I’d been teaching you to play poker. We played a game, and I won.”
“Gods, your father owned the casino, and you’re a leprechaun. Pretty sad how often you lost, don’t you think?”
“Your bet was a dip in the lake.”
“Right. Bailiwick’s uniform. White blouse. You were an adolescent boy.” Annoying as hell I ever let him talk me into that one.
“You weren’t even knee-deep when a merman pulled you under. I was going to dive in after you, but you freed yourself before I had a chance.”
“Punched him in the nose.” I still remember the tug of the water as I cocked my fist.
Seven’s expression softens, and he takes a step closer. “I helped you to shore, your hair sopping wet, and I kissed you.”
That kiss had branded itself onto my heart. It was a rush, painfully addictive and completely consuming. How I hate to think of it now. I take a deep breath and snap on my poker face. When I speak again, my voice is cool and steady.
