“Oh, I know he will.” She lifts a dainty hand and lights it on my shoulder. “It’s just...I worry about him. He is a very, very dear friend of mine. We’ve known each other for many hundreds of years. I’m not much younger than he is, you know. You could say we grew up together.”
I purse my lips, wondering if I’m reading too much into her words, into the purr in her tone. “Your care will warm his heart, Queen Dahlia. I’ll pass it along to him.”
“Oh, don’t worry, Miss Fairfield. I’m sure I’ll tell him myself before then.” With that, she gives my shoulder a final squeeze and brushes past.
Heat blazes my cheeks as I stand frozen in place, lips immobile no matter how many clever retorts surface in my head. I know it’s too late; I can barely hear her buzzing wings behind me anymore. Still, I can’t shake my irritation. What was she suggesting? That she has a greater chance of seeing my mate before I do? That she...hasbeen seeing him more than I do? Or does she know I’m leaving and might never return?
I might never return…
The thought extinguishes my rage, reopening the wound left by my conversation with Aspen. His pleading voice fills my mind, his beckoning touch.Come back to me, Evie.
My chest heaves with a sob as I dart inside my parlor and slam the door behind me.
* * *
Lorelei finds me inside.I’m perched on the ground in front of my couch, knees pulled to my chest as I weep into my hands. She crouches at my side and lays a soft hand on my back. “You’re all right,” she whispers, her voice a soothing hum. “Just breathe.”
I gasp a shaking breath, forcing my sobs to recede. I haven’t broken down like this since...since I thought my sister had died.
“I brought some of your things from Aspen’s room,” she says.
The sound of his name sends a shard of glass through my heart, and it takes me a moment to comprehend what she means bymy things. That’s right. For my journey. I inhale deeply to steady my breathing, a sense of urgency clearing my mind. It must be mid-afternoon by now, and I’m not sure how much time I’ve already wasted. I rise slowly to my feet. “Did you talk to him?”
She nods, expression grave. “We should get you cleaned up and packed.”
I let out a sigh of resignation and reach for one of the bags she brought, plopping it on the couch. I freeze when I see what’s been laid at the top of the pile of clothing within—a crown of gold shaped into a circlet of swaying leaves. I reach for it but stop myself. “Why did you bring this?”
Lorelei shrugs. “King Aspen told me to.”
“Why?”
“Perhaps he wants you to wear it to meet with the mayor. It wouldn’t be a bad idea. Let the human council see you as the Autumn Queen. Let them see you aren’t someone to be trifled with.”
I shake my head. “I don’t think posturing as fae royalty will do me any good in this instance. Not when it plays so well into their accusations about my heritage.”
“Then perhaps just take it with you.”
“No.” My throat tightens. “It doesn’t belong to me. I won it as Aspen’s champion. I won it forhim, for Autumn.”
“And he gave it to you.”
I take the crown in my hands, gingerly, as if it could burn me. Without so much as looking at it, I place it on the tea table in front of the couch. “If it’s meant to be mine, it will still be here if I make it back.”If. The word crushes my lungs.
I refocus on the bags of clothing, removing their contents and setting aside the most practical dresses I can find. The weather will be cool in Eisleigh, October in the human realm being nowhere near as mild as it is in the Autumn Court. Most of the fae dresses are light, flimsy, and entirely inappropriate for the human realm. The fabrics are too sheer and reveal far too much skin.
I toss the dresses on the ground with frustration until I see a familiar sight at the very bottom of the last bag—stiff, starchy, cream-colored linen. I retrieve the corset and find a pair of trousers and a blouse lying beneath. The latter two are wrinkled but they are the only undamaged human clothing I have.
“I will return to my people the same way I left,” I say, smoothing a wrinkle in the blue cotton blouse. My fingers brush a pearl-like button. There was a time when I rebelled against wearing anything but the clothes I now hold in my hands. I hated dresses. I hated corsets too, but they were a price I knew I had to pay to get away with wearing trousers in a society that frowns upon such unfeminine ways.
I stare at the clothes, expecting sentimentality to wash over me at any moment. Instead, I feel a sense of foreboding. Restraint. I’ve come to appreciate the freedom of a flowing chiffon skirt as it swishes around my legs, in the lightness of an unbound chest beneath nothing but gauzy spider silk.
Now I might never wear such things again.
With my corset, trousers, and blouse in hand, I make my way behind the dressing screen and peel off my silky gown.
Lorelei approaches the other side of the screen. “Do you need my help?”
I’m about to say no, but stop myself as I pick up the stiff corset. “I do, actually.”
