His jaw clenches and his lips twitch. But he just looks at me and repeats, “No!”
I gape at him, unsure what to say to that. It’s just as well, he slips out of the tent before I have a chance to say anything.
For the time it takes to pack up my things and roll up the blankets and the mat, I consider his “no” and my blood starts to heat. Since when does he get to decide? I haven’t made any commitments. I’m a grown woman and I know what’s best for me. I burst from the tent in a full huff, throwing the roll at him with an unnecessary amount of force.
“I’m sensing you have something to say.” He starts strapping the rolls onto his pack.
I lift my chin. “You don’t get to tell me no, Seven.”
He slams a cup into his pack. “I’ve waited too long to get you back. I’m not giving you up that easily. We should have never been apart in the first place. If it wasn’t for my father’s interference—”
“You know, I thought about that. I asked myself just now, if we’d kept our relationship secret sixteen years ago, would we still be together?”
“Of course we would,” he says. “You wouldn’t have left Devashire if the Yule Ball never happened.”
I shake my head. “I don’t think so. Because even if I never left, I would have grown up, Seven, and I would have wanted more. I amworthmore than being someone’s dirty little secret.”
“I never suggested you become mydirty little secret. I’d never treat you that way.”
“You didn’t have to suggest it. It’s the only option left once going public and staying apart are off the table.” Tears blur my vision as I step into him and fist his shirt, bringing our faces close. My voice cracks as I say, “I am a pixie, and I am a woman, and I deserve love and happiness. I’ve been through too much to settle for less. Arden has been through too much. The fact is, I have lived a lie for the last sixteen years, and I was good at it Seven.” I shake my head. “I’ve perfected the bluff. But I realize now, facing another life of lies, that I just don’t want to do it anymore. It’s time for me to cut my losses, fold, and leave the table. Last night, I thought I could settle, I thought stolen moments with you would be enough, but I was wrong. I want it all or I want nothing, and in our world, all just isn’t possible. I’m sorry.” I’m trembling as I release him.
Pain travels through Seven’s expression before his face turns impassive and cold. His voice is flat and emotionless as he says, “You’re right. You deserve more.”
He turns from me and we dismantle the tent in silence.
An hour later, I find myself hiking along a path between two mountains. It’s cold, and I’ve donned every layer of clothing in my pack and tucked my wings inside for warmth. We haven’t said a word to each other since we left the campsite. But we’re going to have to get over what happened and move beyond our feelings because I see a flash of bone white through the trees up ahead and I think we’ve reached our destination.
“What’s the plan, Seven?” I whisper. The hair on my arms is standing on end, and I find myself touching my bow to reassure myself it’s still there.
He grunts. “We walk into Yissevel’s lair and ask him what he was doing in Dragonfly. See what he says.”
I laugh. “Do you expect him to answer us before or after he tears our teeth and bones from our bodies?”
“Hoping for before,” he says a little too seriously. He’s scanning our surroundings, likely analyzing how he can leverage luck in this situation.
“Hope isn’t a strategy.”
He snorts.
“What happened to that gun I saw you wearing the other day?”
“The guardians won’t let it through. We’re in unseelie territory. It’s considered a human weapon and isn’t allowed.”
“But my bow is?”
He kicks up an eyebrow. “Invented by a pixie.”
Hmm. I had no idea. I blow out a deep breath. “Yissevel can’t fly,” I say. “I’ll ask the questions, and you pummel him with luck. If we get into trouble, I’ll take off. You’ll be okay, right?” He knows what I mean. I want to know if he’s recharged the luck he spent on me last night.
A corner of his mouth tips up. “At full power. I’ll survive. Don’t worry about me.”
“It’s a plan.” Not a very good one but the best I can think of.
I take my bow off my shoulder and nock an arrow. We’re close enough now that I start to worry. Yissevel’s home is bone white for a reason. Up close, I can make out pyramids of skulls, bleached white from the sun, wedged together to form a foundation for a network of femur bones, some human, some not, that create the entrance. The path to his front door is pebbled with teeth.
I wonder again how this creature could have spawned the human folklore of the Tooth Fairy. It was like people couldn’t tolerate the horror, so their minds created a more palatable fiction, a creature who took sacrificial teeth in exchange for money and looked more like a pixie than a monster. What would they do if they knew the truth?
We approach the eight-foot-tall doors made of polished ivory. Seven grabs on to the bone handle and pulls. I guess we’re not knocking then. The door swings open.
