I burn him with a glare. “Promise me you’ll do what needs to be done for the good of both our people. Promise me you’ll save the treaty. If you can’t do it for the sake of the isle, then do it for me.”
He glares right back. “I promise.”
“What are you promising to? All of it?”
“I promise if everything goes to hell, I’m going to make a decision neither of us is going to like,” he says through his teeth.
It isn’t the promise I asked for, but at least it’s one he can keep, considering there’s no solution I like. I hate all of it. The dissolution of the treaty. Aspen marrying Maddie Coleman. My mother being imprisoned and threatened with execution. Where do I stand in all of this? What happens to me?
“Fine,” I say as I turn toward the door.
“Wait.”
I shouldn’t stop, but I do. Not daring to look back at him, I focus on his slow footsteps drawing near. A thousand heartbeats seem to pass as I hold my breath in anticipation of him. My pulse races even faster as his body presses into my back, hands wrapping gently around my waist, fingers splayed over my stomach. My body responds to his touch, a wave of desire blooming inside my chest as I breathe in the rosemary and cinnamon scent of his skin.
“Don’t leave yet.” His voice is deep, pleading, heavy with emotion as he nuzzles into my neck.
I close my eyes and angle my head, allowing him closer, his lips grazing the skin at my collarbone.
“We have time,” he whispers. “We should make the most of it, just in case...”
He doesn’t need to finish the sentence for me to know what he means. If everything goes terribly, this could be our last moment together. Ever. I might never see him again.
The thought is so crippling, tears spring to my eyes, and I feel my knees buckling beneath me.
With one hand warm on my stomach, the other brushes along my jaw, turning my face toward his. Our lips are just a breath away. “Evie.”
I want nothing more than to close the distance, to feel his lips on mine. With one move, I could fold myself into him, feel the comfort of his arms, the heat of his body. What if this really is our last moment, our last memory together? My breaths are shallow as I fight the searing desire pulsing through me. I know I must fight it. Because if I give in now, I don’t know if I’ll ever have the strength to leave again.
I turn my lips from his and step out of his grasp. “I have to go.”
This time, he doesn’t stop me as I make my way to the door. But as I reach the threshold, he says, “Come back to me, Evie.”
I pause for only a second.“I can’t promise that.” Then my feet fly beneath me, taking me as fast from Aspen’s room as they can go while sobs tear from my throat.
I may not be able to promise Aspen I’ll return, but I can vow that every step I take away from him feels like a knife twisting in my heart.
5
I’m almost to the sanctity of my parlor when my feet are forced to slow.
A figure glides toward me, one with golden-brown skin, honey-colored hair, and yellow butterfly wings. Queen Dahlia is the last person I want to see right now. I’m in no state to entertain a guest, and her cheery smile is an infuriating contrast to my pain. I quickly wipe my cheeks dry before I pause outside my parlor door and offer the Summer Queen a curtsy. Hoping beyond hope that she’ll ignore me and pass me by, I avoid meeting her gaze.
“My dear Miss Fairfield. Is everything all right? You look positively wretched.”
I clench my jaw, letting my irritation overpower my anguish. Luckily, the lies flow from my tongue with ease. “There was an accident this morning, Queen Dahlia. I attended the wounded but am overcome with grief over those who perished in the caves.”
“So I heard,” she says with a scoff. “Serves them right, using explosives in such a manner.”
I bristle at that, even though I agree that using them had been reckless. All I want is for her to leave so I can be alone, but I can’t resist my urge to use words against her now that she’s sparked my ire. “How much longer are we to be graced with your company? You were quite generous in lending Bircharbor your weather, but I must say it’s dry now. And there is such a thing as too much sun.”
She gives me a simpering smile. “Perhaps a few days more, Miss Fairfield, just to be sure. I do hope we can spend more time together. I think the sun is starting to do you good. One would almost say you don’t look so drab.”
I force an exaggerated grin. “Almost.”
She takes a step closer, lowering her voice, although her expression remains unchanged. “I do hope nothing is amiss. I heard the king received a vexing correspondence.”
The grin falls from my lips, and I don’t try to remedy it. “The king’s correspondences are his business, and he will attend to them appropriately.”
