“A stranger?” I echo with an arched brow.
He holds out a gloved hand. “Allow me to introduce myself properly. Greetings, Miss Danforth, I am William Haywood, the poet you have so kindly bid to date for an afternoon. Thank you for taking the time out of your day to enjoy the Darlington Hills Promenade with me.”
I place my own gloved hand in his. “Are we acting?”
“A little,” he whispers with a wink.
“Pleased to meet you,” I say in a formal tone, though I’m sure my smile betrays my shoddy efforts.
He releases my hand and proffers his elbow. “Shall we?”
“We shall,” I say, placing my palm at the crook of his arm.
We keep a chaste distance as we stroll along with all the other proper couples around us. The promenade seems to cater mostly to humans or seelie fae, as everyone maintains the formalities I’m used to seeing back home. It’s a strange blend of familiarity and novelty, and I’m enjoying it.
William guides us to a food stall, much like the vendor we bought Lumies from in Lumenas. This time, the treat is one of those doughy bean-filled confections Cassie and I had at the café.
Cassie came to visit us at our suite this morning, proving she’s fully recovered from yesterday’s debacle, much to William’s relief. She apologized for not sending word to him and promised to be more transparent in the future. She said this while giving me a knowing look, demonstrating that she is taking my advice.
I almost wish she was here with us now, for I’d like to get to know her better. But I can say the same for William—there’s much about him I want to know. As we continue our walk, weask questions between bites of our sweet treat. I learn more about his childhood, how he moved from city to city both before and after his father met Lydia. Before Lydia, William’s father was always chasing the arts and following a revolving cast of muses. After, they lived wherever Lydia’s career took them. Most recently, William and Cassie lived in the Earthen Court, as that is where Lydia chose to settle down during her final years for medical care.
I collect every story he tells me, treasuring the sweet and bitter alike. Every new fact fills in the fabric that ishim, and I’m hungry for all of it. We may have fully fallen for each other, but there is still much to know about one another. It’s the opposite of how it was with Dennis Feverforth. With Dennis, we got to know everything about each other via letter. Then we fell in love. Then we met. And it all fell apart.
With William, neither of us were looking for romance. If anything, we sought the opposite with each other. But our attraction was inevitable. As I learned more about him, saw new sides of him, I fell in love. Now I get to learn the beautifully mundane details that make this fae male who he is.
We circle the lake slowly, stopping often, and by the time we reach where we started, William faces me with a formal bow.
“We must part ways,” he says. “Thank you for your company.”
My heart sinks, swept up in his act, until I remind myself I’ll see him back at our suite. I sink into a curtsy. “Likewise, Mr. Haywood.”
“I bid you a good day. Though I suggest you visit the bridge before you leave.”
“The bridge?”
He points not far down the promenade, near a heavily forested side of the lake. “Take the walking trail there and you’ll see it.”
I squint to where he’s pointing until I spot the trail in question, but by the time I glance back at William, he’s gone. Quiet bastard. When did he sneak away?
I’m too curious about this bridge he’s mentioned to ignore his advice, so I march back down the path until I reach the walking trail. I note several more on the way, but I stick to the one he pointed out. The trail leads me through more swaying willows, between flowering hedges, and finally to another paved path. A beautiful garden stretches before me, filled with miniature trees, weathered statues of forest critters and fae creatures, water fountains, and several ponds. It’s empty compared to the main promenade, with only a pedestrian or two in sight. I wonder if few know about the hidden garden.
I follow a winding path through fragrant hedges until a red arched bridge comes into view. It’s suspended over a trickling stream, and a figure already waits at its center. My lips pull into a grin as I quicken my pace and meet William on the bridge.
“What are we doing here?” I ask as I close the distance between us. “You bid me good day.”
“William the Poet bid the auction winner good day,” he says, pulling me into his arms at once. “Now it’s just us.”
I encircle his neck with my arms, tilting my head back to meet his eyes. “What was that all about? Were you trying to prove something with that act?”
“Yes,” he says without shame. “I wanted to prove you had nothing to worry about, even if you hadn’t won the auction. I created that form you signed from the start. Before I had any inkling that you might forgive me.”
My heart falls. “I’m sorry I ran the other night. I’m sorry it took me a while to come to terms with my feelings.”
“No, Weenie,” he says, and I realize it’s been quite a while since that nickname irked me. Now it only sparks warmth. “You’re allowed to take your time when you’re upset. Howevermuch you need. You came back, which gives me hope that you’ll come back again and again, even if conflict arises between us.”
I recall what Cassie told me. About the promise I made to her, that I wouldn’t let him lose himself in me. About his guilt over Lydia’s death. About the pain he must have felt when he discovered her health had deteriorated after his father left her, and that she’d suffered while William was gone.
“I will come back,” I say. “I will always come back. It’s safe to let me go a little, and it’s safe to follow your dreams as well.”
