“So you didn’t send it?” I asked again. When he’d first arrived, I had filled him in on the cuff and more details about my mother’s disappearance.
“No.” He gestured to the white dress boxes in my closet. “I arranged forthose, but not whatever this is. The package must have been delivered to you yesterday, and the mailroom simply combined the deliveries.”
I wrapped my arms tightly across my chest, feeling a chill. I hadn’t been able to stop shaking ever since discovering the cuff. I felt like I was a little girl again, left on her own so often. “I don’t understand,” I said through a trembling voice. “What’s it supposed to mean? Where did it come from?”
Seeing my trembling hands, Severn reached out instinctively to hold me but seemed to think better of it given our last tense argument about his possessiveness. He let his hand fall.
A strange distance stretched between us.
“I’ll have my people look into it,” he said, “but I’d wager whoever sent this knows how to hide their tracks. The truth is, Willow, someone knows about your family history and is attempting to use it against you. You don’t send a missing dead woman’s bracelet to her daughter, wrapped up in black ribbon, unless it’s a threat.”
I let out a small, frightened sound, and this time, Severn couldn’t resist. He wrapped his hands gently around my back, drawing me close, resting his chin on the top of my head as I buried my face in his chest.
He gently stroked my back as he whispered, “I know it must be very alarming to have received this.”
I nodded against his body. I hated the memories the bracelet stirred up of being small and frightened and so lonely without her, and I hated that some sick person had sent me this. “How did anyone even get her bracelet? They must know more about her. Maybe even what happened to her five years ago. How she died.”
He nodded his agreement. “Most likely, but there is a reason they aren’t making themselves known.” His hand stilled on my back, and I felt his energy shift. He swallowed, his throat bobbing in a rare show of uncertainty. “Listen, Willow. I know I didn’t handle myself well yesterday when we discussed you potentially leaving the city. I was out of line—I realized that afterward. I have no excuse other than the fact that I’m used to addressing fae who have no choice but to obey me.No onespeaks back to me and gets away with it.” He paused. “Except for you.”
I listened to his apology, accepting it but not entirely ready to forgive him. “I understand that.”
He drew in a deep breath, still looking oddly vulnerable. “I should not haveorderedyou to leave, but I still believe my point stands, especially in light of this mysterious package.” He drew back, placing his hands gently on either side of my face. “Will you consider taking the children to Italy for all of your safety? Even if only for a few weeks?”
The fight had gone out of me after the scare of the package and Severn’s sincere apology. I had to admit the truth:He might have a point.
“After the benefactors’ gala,” I relented quietly. “The kids and I will leave the following day. But only for a few weeks. New York is still my home.”
He nodded and placed a delicate kiss on my forehead. “It will always be your home.”
ChapterTwenty-Four
That night, Severn slept over in my apartment and made love to me in my own bed. I’d never had make-up sex before, and it was just as mind-blowing as it was made out to be in books and movies. This was the first time that he’d been gentle and slow when it came to sex—every time before had been a ravenous, near-feral type of mating that was supposedly common among the fae. ButIwasn’t fae, and he finally made love to me like he was aware of that fact and wanted to give pleasure instead of greedily snatching up every morsel he could. His strokes were slow and steady, building me to such a powerful climax that I cried out loud enough to worry I might have woken the kids upstairs. But after a few tense minutes, the apartment remained quiet, and I giggled with relief.
Afterward, we lay in bed, and Severn stroked my arm and explained that for fae, fucking and fighting weren’t that different. A little pain and torment only made the coupling spicier. But he admitted—reluctantly—that he had enjoyed experimenting with human expressions of affection more than he’d expected.
In the morning, Henry and May came downstairs to find Severn in the apartment, sipping French-press coffee while watching a real estate show about the Caribbean islands. I saw them glance at each other with a triumphant spark.
The little devils,I thought to myself.Their Parent Trap plan worked, and they know it.
Since the gala was only three days away, I had a lot of preparations. I sat the children down and explained to them about the upcoming “vacation” to Italy that we’d be taking and how Severn wanted them to be exposed to a new language and culture. I assured them that we’d be back in New York City long before school would start in the fall. They were thrilled at the news and only had two questions: First, if Puck could come.Yes. Second, if there was an Italian version of the checklist. I laughed and told them sure, we’d eat authentic spaghetti and tour Renaissance art museums.
Severn sent a fleet of fae assistants to help us pack for the trip, though I assured them that all we needed were a few small suitcases for clothes and toiletries. The fae seemed confused that I didn’t want to take all the children’s toys and electronics, our personal bedding, and every scrap of clothes in the closets. I was a little puzzled—was this how Severn traveled, carting around trainloads of belongings with him like an eighteenth-century king? I had to wrestle my bedspread out of a fae’s hands, assuring her that I would be fine with whatever bedspread was on the villa bed we’d stay at.
Whenever I wasn’t packing, I found myself whisked through town with Kell by my side to beauty appointments for hair and nails and to a tailor to be fitted in my gala gown. I’d chosen the black velvet dress with the high slit up the side. It already fit me well, but the seamstress they took me to—a teenage prodigy in Chinatown who’d woven ribbons into her wheelchair’s spokes and matching ones in her own hair—was able to make the dress hug my curves so perfectly that I wasn’t entirely convinced she was human.
On the way home, my phone beeped with a text alert, and I smiled to see Zara’s avatar pop up. She wrote:
Guess who snagged an invite to the Summer Benefactors’ Ball?
I immediately texted back:
No way! I didn’t know you were back in town??
She responded:
Not yet. Flying in tomorrow for the gala, then back to LA the day after. Have to represent Olegev interests… and anyway, you think I’d miss the grandest party of the year?
Smiling, I texted back:
