Arden breaks the tension when she sails into the room in jeans and a T-shirt and plops into the chair beside me. “I’ve got a great idea of what we can do after dinner.”
“What’s that?”
“Trivial Pursuit. I saw it in the cabinet next to the fireplace.”
“It’s the fairy edition.”
She shrugs. “Maybe I’ll learn something.”
Grandma rubs her hands together. “I’m totally going to win.” She leans toward Arden and whispers conspiratorially, “I know everything.”
Once Mom arrives with the lasagna, I pull out my phone and text Seven.
Sorry, can’t work tonight. Important family stuff.
Understood. See you tomorrow.
She loved your gift.
There’s a long pause before he responds.
Someday.
I know Seven well enough to know what that someday means. All the thoughts I just had about running out of time, about this being my last chance at experiencing Arden’s childhood… He feels the same way. Only he’s already missed most of it.
A lump forms in my throat. It’s not fair. She’s his, and no matter what, he doesn’t deserve to miss this night with her. I swallow hard and steel my spine.
No. Come. Bring the papers you need me to sign.
We both know there are no papers.
Twenty minutes later he shows up at our door with a stack of documents that have nothing to do with me. I have no idea what they say, but I sign them anyway. Then I politely ask him to stay and join us for the game, and Arden enthusiastically demands his participation. My parents have no choice but to duplicate my invitation.
To my delight, he stays and for three glorious hours, we are a family.
When we play Trivial Pursuit, he’s the blue piece.
Grandma wins.
ChapterSeven
Saul arrives at my parents’ door two mornings later, ready to escort me to Ashgate. “Ms. Larkspur, if you’ll follow me. I have a car waiting.”
“Let me grab my bag.” I slip my feet into my shoes and my purse strap over my shoulder, yell my goodbyes to Arden and my parents, and follow him out the door.
We’re halfway to the parking lot when Saul looks down at me from his considerable height and asks in his deep, serious voice, “Can you run in that outfit?”
Per Dragonfly policy, I’m wearing a dress—a strapless, tea-length light blue ball gown and silver heels. All pixies and satyrs have to appear in character anytime we might be seen by humans, which we definitely will be while leaving the park. Leprechauns run everything, which means they can appear in regular clothing, usually suits for the guys. Since I’ve been back in the fold, I’ve gotten used to living in princess dresses. It’s as comfortable as anything else to me now, and that includes the shoes.
I flutter my wings in a devil-may-care sort of way before responding lightheartedly, “Pixies are light on our feet.” Not that I haven’t tripped and landed on my face before. It’s happened, usually when I’m too distracted to remember to compensate with my wings, but it’s rare.
He points his chin at me. “Good. Ashgate is a dangerous place, Ms. Larkspur. I can carry you if I have to, but it’s good to know you can run.”
“Call me Sophia. Why is Ashgate so dangerous anyway? The criminals are sealed inside the mountain. They can’t get to me.”
He frowns. “It’s not the criminals you need to be worried about.”
“Then what?”
