Interlude
At last.
Oak King and Holly King. Mortal and fae.
The Summer Court fallen to the Winter. (As Winter, in turn, would fall.)
Sacrificial desire.
A feast, one Faerie’s children had foolishly denied it for too long. Left it dwindling and weak without the Solstice rites.
But here, these two, this willing pair, offered themselves eagerly.
Faerie drank them like wine. (Like blood.) (Like sex.)
And where naught but void had existed, flowers bloomed. Petals of honey on stems of ice.
Chapter twenty-two
Bo
Points to Faerie; itreplaced his clothes. They were waiting, neatly folded, when he and Ever woke up. New clothes. Flowers everywhere. Even a glass of fucking water by the bed.
As aftercare went, Faerie could do worse.
“So,” Bo said, studying the new jeans. Subtle patterns of oak leaves and flowers were embroidered along the waistband, same as the crown he was still somehow wearing. Anytime he took it off, it just manifested again. “I’m pretty sure we fucked Faerie. Got fucked by Faerie?”
Ever sat up, plucking a ripe orange from one of the low branches above the couch where they’d slept. And yeah, magical threesome fruit was fucking weird, but also, Bo was hungry. And as Ever’s sharp teeth cut through the glowing rind, the smell of honey and magic filled the air.
“I confess, I have no idea,” Ever murmured. Calm, even as his feelings rang through Bo, caution threaded with guilt and affection and confusion. “I’ve never heard of Faerie reacting so. If couplings always resulted in such an outpouring of power, I suspect even Velriks would seek a lover.”
Bo snickered, pulling on first jeans, then shirt. “The scandal.”
“Quite.”
Bo really ought to have been panicking. He knew that. This felt like one of those things people freaked out over. But instead, there was a lazy, sated quiet. They’d woken up curled together, warm and comfortable, and the new clothes fit like the old ones.
So, he shrugged, sitting back beside Ever to pull on his shoes.
“I feel like I should be trying to crawl out of my skin,” Bo admitted. An orange blossom drifted from an overhanging tree in looping spirals, the petals gleaming like jewels when it settled on Bo’s shoulder. “Like, I’ll definitely probably freak the fuck out a little later. Orange?”
Ever handed him an orange obligingly. Peeled, the wanton. “I– When that occurs, what…”
“Oh, you’ll need to pet my hair. Tell me you think I look good even when I’m not wrapped in vines.” Bo popped a fruit segment into his mouth and managed not to make a sound over the burst of honey and chilled, tart orange.
From the look on Ever’s face, though, hedefinitelymade an expression.
Ever closed the scant space between them and reached down, taking Bo’s free hand in his, tugging him closer and kissing Bo’s knuckles with soft lips.
“Bo,” Ever said, mouth still warm and near. “I cannot fault Faerie for its infatuation. But my adoration for you is wholly my own.”
Bo grinned, squeezing Ever’s hand in turn. Not so much eager ashungry.Not lust. Just … wanting more of that almost smile, of the mellow, light lilt of his voice. “Yeah?”
“Yes. I’ve known less joy in three centuries than I’ve shared with you in three days. I’ll gladly worship you wrapped in vines and just as readily on hotel sheets.” Ever’s freckles darkened when he blushed. Fucking charming. “Or wherever else you might permit me.”
“You’ve got me feeling all sorts of ways, kelpie.” Bo tugged back, took Ever’s hand to kiss his knuckles in turn. “All of them good. I like you too. Enjoy. Adore. Whatever the fuck else. Sheets or moss or any weird stuff between the two.”
And yes. Yeah, that was what he wanted: Ever’s slight, warm smile, all shy and pleased.
