Outside the arena,the sidewalks are abuzz with chatter as spectators discuss the match. Dorian and I say very little as we head down Halley and turn toward Cygnus. The silence between us is a relief. I’ll take a quiet walk over the alternative if it keeps Dorian from bringing up the almost-kiss. And I’ll do anything to avoid thinking about it too. Because if I think too much about it, I’ll have to admit I failed. On purpose.
Our steps are slow and leisurely, and the farther we get from Halley, the calmer the streets become too. Soon only the sounds of our footsteps remain. Several inches of space remain between us—inches my senses home in on. Even that much space is too little. Or is it too much? Thankfully, I’ve donned my coat again, so at least it isn’t my bare skin that strays so close to him.
Dorian sighs. From my periphery I watch him look up at the sky. He pauses and wrinkles his brow.
I stop too and follow his line of sight. “What is it?”
“I was hoping I’d see the stars, but they’re barely visible.”
He lowers his eyes from the sky. When they lock on me, my lungs contract. I can’t help but recall how he looked at me before he tried to kiss me.
Right before I ruined the very thing that was supposed to save my life.
“Yes,” I say, bringing my mind back to the present. “They’re rarely visible this close to this city.”
“I miss the way they looked from my home court.” With a shake of his head, he returns to walking. “I’ve missed them the entire time I was in Bretton. Either I’ve remembered my childhood all wrong, or the stars are brighter in Faerwyvae.”
Mention of his childhood sparks curiosity in me. “What court did you live in when you were a boy?”
“Wind,” he says, voice soft. His expression falls. It reminds me of what he said about his mother. He quickly shakes it away and forces a smile. “What about you? What was your home court like? Is your father’s palace underwater?”
“No, Bircharbor Palace is at the edge of the Autumn Court. It was once ruled by King Aspen of Autumn, and his father, King Herne, before that. After the last war, King Aspen moved to Maplehearth Palace with his mate, Queen Evelyn. Now Bircharbor is the seat of the seelie Sea Court. The palace itself stands on a bluff and overlooks the ocean. Since my father is a seelie monarch, it helps having a palace on land where he can more easily engage with the human representatives and other seelie fae. I didn’t spend much time inside the palace though. I preferred my private lagoon at the base of the bluff.”
“And you grew up with your adopted brother…” He squints as if trying to recall my chaperone’s name.
“Podaxis,” I finish for him. “He’s a fungus sprite. And yes, we spent almost all our time together.”
“I remember you saying you had many other brothers too. Do you miss them?”
My heart sinks at the question. “I do. And do you miss your sisters?”
His expression turns somber again. “Very much so.”
My heart aches at the pain he’s trying so hard to hide. “What are they like? Your sisters?”
He looks down at the ground in front of him as we continue walking, and for a few moments, I’m not sure he’ll answer. “I wish I could tell you, but I wouldn’t do them justice. I haven’t seen them in ten years. I’ve only seen their portraits and conversed with them through letter while I’ve been away at school.”
“That’s where you were before the shipwreck? School?” I ask, trying to pretend I don’t already know the answer. Nimue mentioned him being sent to Bretton for schooling after his father was executed.
He nods.
“Did you like it?”
“I did. Probably too much.”
“What does that mean?”
“It’s…complicated.” He purses his lips and it seems that’s all he’ll say. Then he speaks again. “The last few years I got it into my head that I was going to become a famous boxer like Emmet or Hastings instead of pursuing a more respectable career upon graduation. I started putting less attention into school and more into training and participating in amateur matches around campus.”
I look at him with wide eyes. “You’ve actually fought other men? In matches like we just watched?”
“Not as extravagant as that, but yes.”
“Did you win?”
“Sometimes. Other times I got beat embarrassingly bad.” A small smile flutters over his lips as if the thought of being so thoroughly beaten amuses him. It’s a fleeting expression and his countenance falls yet again. “I could have graduated two years ago, but instead…instead I let my education drag out longer than it needed to. If I’d taken my schooling more seriously, I could have come home before…”
He doesn’t need to finish for me to know what he’s trying to say. “I’m so sorry, Dorian.” My shoulder brushes his, and I’m not sure whether I stepped closer to him first, or he stepped closer to me. Neither of us widen the distance between us as we continue walking.
