“No, of course I don’t.” My hand was still pressed against his cheek, his sandy-colored stubble prickling my palm.
“There’s a hole in my memory, too,” he continued in his rumble. “Many holes, actually. I know I’m missing something important, something that shapes me despite its absence from my mind.” His eyes met mine again. “And for that reason, too, I’m not in a position to offer a woman my heart.”
I drew my hand back, but my voice was tender when I said, “I don’t remember asking for it.”
He smiled, and despite the lingering bleakness in his eyes, something of his usual warmth shone through, too. “No, you didn’t. But you’re the sort of woman who deserves a man’s heart, Marigold.”
His kindness, in spite of the pain he’d just confessed to me, made me feel all flustered and embarrassed again. “Maybe right now I’m just interested in thoselittle pleasuresyou keep talking about. My life is complicated enough at the moment without bringing a bunch of hearts into the mix.”
His mouth widened, more of his natural warmth shining through. “In that case, perhaps—”
“What are you two doing?”
I jumped, pulling away from Octavian even though I wasn’t even touching him anymore. Alastor had appeared beside us, and even though he’d kept his voice appropriately quiet, his tone made it clear he assumed we were up to no good.
I don‘t even want to know what Alastor considers ‘no good’, I thought, trying to look innocent.Probably everything fun.
“It’s dangerous to separate,” Alastor said, sounding every bit the stiff-lipped older brother lecturing his younger siblings. “This isn’t the time for games.” He scowled in my direction, like he believed this was entirely my fault.
“We’re coming,” Octavian replied, not appearing the least bit troubled by his brother’s tone. “I had something in my boot, and Marigold stopped to help me.”
Alastor shot him a look that said he didn’t believe a word of that admittedly ridiculous excuse, and Octavian just smiled innocently at him in response.
If Alastor hadn’t been so dignified, I suspected he would have rolled his eyes, but instead all that repressed annoyance went straight to his tightened jaw and rigid shoulders. Octavian, meanwhile, was looking amused and even proud of his ability to get a rise out of his brother. I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing.
“Come along,” Alastor said, spinning around without another glance at us. “Ring-Around-the-Hill is just past these trees. Rad is scouting ahead.” He stalked off without waiting to see if we would follow.
I shot a glance at Octavian as we hurried after him. He appeared to be mostly back to his usual self—warm and self-assured, with a charming gleam of amusement in his eye when our gazes met—but now I knew there was a deep, confusing pain buried beneath.
First Radven, now Octavian.And it wasn’t a stretch to believe that the brooding, angry Alastor had some buried pain or some twisted inability to love, too.
There were differences in their lovelessness, though—Radven claimed he couldn’t love because he’d given up the ability, bargaining it away like it was a physical, tangible thing. Octavian, on the other hand, seemed to be claiming something different. It was like he believed—though he couldn’t remember the details—that he’d already loved someone so deeply that she’d taken his heart away with her. He didn’t appear to think that he was completely incapable of love, but rather that he’d loved and it had cost him dearly. But surely a broken heart—especially in a situation where he couldn’t evenrememberwho or what or why—didn’t make a man incapable of loving again, right?
I didn’t get the chance to mull on that for very long, because Alastor was right—Ring-Around-the-Hill was closer than I’d realized. When we passed the trees he’d pointed out, we found ourselves looking down at our destination.
I’d been expecting another quaint, medieval-esque village like Far Meadow, just a little bigger. Instead, I found myself staring down at one of the strangest and most beautiful towns I’d ever seen.
It was easily ten times the size of Far Meadow, with brightly colored, thatched-roof buildings spread out in perfect concentric circles from the center of the settlement. And despite the vibrant, gorgeous hues of the buildings, it was to the center that my eyes were drawn—because at the heart of the large town was a great, green hill, rising majestically above the houses below.
The slopes of the hill were completely unadorned—aside from the emerald-green grass, which was visibly thick and lush even from this distance—and the top was unnaturally flat, with a great, blue-tinged oak growing from the very center. It was the biggest tree I’d seen yet—larger than Laitha’s, by some magnitude—and its thick, twisted branches extended in every direction, casting protective shadows over the hill below.
“This is…”Otherworldly, I wanted to say, but that seemed redundant.
“The hill is older than Therador,” Octavian said beside me. “And though it obviously isn’t natural, no one knows who built it—some ancient race, long gone.”
“Maybe the fae?” I suggested, half-joking. “There are lots of legends in my world of them stealing people away into fairy hills.” Heck, I even had a fanfic about sexy fae men who kidnapped human brides and carried them off to their lush underground kingdom.
Despite my light tone, Octavian nodded as if I’d given a serious hypothesis.
“Perhaps,” he said. “Therador has its own legends that speak of a race similar to your fae or fairies. And there are rooms and tunnels within the Hill, as well as what might have once been a great hall.”
“Really?” I couldn’t keep the eagerness from my voice. “Can we go inside?”
“If all goes to plan.” Octavian looked down at the town. “We’ve used Ring-Around-the-Hill as a stopover before, and the guestrooms within the Hill offer an enviable amount of privacy.”
“But that means getting through the crowds first,” Alastor said.
I hadn’t noticed the crowds—I’d been too focused on the giant hill—but now I could see the tiny dots of people moving through the streets of the town. In fact, there were three substantial roads leading into Ring-Around-the-Hill, each coming from a different direction, and all buzzed with movement, even at this early hour. There was also a river on the far side of the town, wide and lazy and dotted with small boats.
