It was the most charitable euphemism I could come up with to meanasshole. But Azalea was fae, like him, and I had no idea how to talk to fae. There was a chance she’d turn around and report everything I said to him, though she didn’t strike me as the kind to tattle.
She shrugged one shoulder. “He’s not so bad. All fae are like that. Believe it or not, he’s one of the more thoughtful ones.”
“Idon’tbelieve it.”
She laughed. “Only because you don’t know him. Give it time, you’ll see. There is a reason he’s as cold as he is. He has to be in order to face all the violence of their world, all the cruelty. The rest of the fae can quench their desires in games of chance or feasts or sex—” She glanced at me, looking worried she’d said the wrong thing. “There are somecrazyparties that happen around here, just to warn you. If a fae invites you to join, I’d think twice. And don’t drink the—”
“Wine. Yeah. I’ve heard.”
She nodded. “But Severn is the regent, so he can’t relax like the others can.” She grew quiet again as we watched Henry show Severn how to make a sandwich out of graham crackers and chocolate. “You know that phrase ‘it’s lonely at the top’? That’s doubly true for a fae. Severn won’t let himself trust anyone, open up to anyone. He’d hate it if he heard me say this, but he’s lonely.”
Her lavender eyes settled on me in a curious way that I didn’t quite like the look of, like she had just gotten an idea about something. But whatever it was, she didn’t say any more.
“Aren’t you fae?” I asked, curious. She had spoken of the fae like they were as foreign to her as they were to me.
“I’m half-fae,” she answered.
I waited, but she didn’t add more. “And the other half is…human?”
“No.” She smiled in a way that didn’t volunteer any further answers. “Be patient with him,” she said at last as she headed back toward the lobby. “He might surprise you.”
If he doesn’t insult me enough to make me quit first, I thought.
She closed the apartment door, leaving me with the children and Severn, who had gotten marshmallow cream stuck in his silver hair.
I couldn’t help but snicker until he looked my way sharply with a glare that could freeze fire. I closed my mouth quickly and said, “I’ll grab a towel.”
Coming back from the kitchen with a damp towel, I paused. May had smeared chocolate on Severn’s nose, but instead of snapping at her, he broke out in a grin. I found myself rooted to the spot, staring in fascination. I’d never seen him smile other than to smirk. I hadn’t even been sure his perfect facecoulddisplay any emotion other than grumpiness. I didn’t know what was more unbelievable: a fae prince eating s’mores or the genuine smile he gave to the children.
ChapterSix
After a few days with Henry and May, it quickly became apparent that they had never had the type of childhood most children in the city had. Growing up around the fae court meant that they’d spent more time with werewolves than at the movies, listened to more harp players than building pillow forts, and eaten more quince tarts than Pop-Tarts. And as dazzling as the fae realm could be, as soon as I took them to a playground near the waterfront where an ice cream truck was parked, which they stared at half in wonder and half in terror, I realized they needed a major intervention.
I called them over from the swings to sit with me on a bench, where I pulled a notebook from my bag.
“I want you two to help me make a checklist.”
Both of their noses scrunched up. “We already went grocery shopping.”
“Not that kind of a list. Not things to buy. I want this to be a list of all the normal childhood experiences you’ve never had.”
It was the least I could do, I figured, for kids that had lost their parents, and with it, a good chunk of their innocence. Not to mention that they had to live withSevernas their guardian. I had seen how cold the fae realm could be, a cutthroat world of elegance and refinement, and I didn’t want them to miss out on the simple things. Firefly catching and walks in the rain.
It took Henry and May a little while to comprehend the idea, but then Henry volunteered a little shyly, “I’ve always wanted to fly a kite.”
I had to stop myself from balking at the fact that at nine years old, he had never flown a kite, especially when he lived so close to Central Park, which was practically the kite-flying capital of the world.
“Perfect!” I wrote it down on the list.
Now May’s eyes lit up. “I want to go trick-or-treating!”
“Okay, well, Halloween isn’t for a few months, but yes. That’s great, May. We’ll add that to the checklist.”
“Go camping!” Henry said.
“Eat a hot dog!” May said.
Now that they understood the point of the checklist, they rattled out experiences faster than I could jot them down on the paper.
