He swishes his tail back to her hem. She retreats a step but trips over her own feet. She giggles as she tumbles to the ground.
The lion fae chuckles too and flicks his tail toward her once more.
I finally reach them and grip the back of his collar. He’s several inches shorter than I am, and when I force him to face me, he pales. I lower my voice to a growl. “And just what the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
“I…I was walking her back to her room.”
“You’re never going to walk again if you don’t get out of my sight at once.”
I release his collar, and the lion has the good sense to make himself scarce before I can think better of it. Once he’s out of sight, I face Edwina.
She’s lying on her back, chortling to herself. “He had a tail. A long, floppy tail. I don’t know what Johannes sees in you, Timothy.”
I haven’t a clue who Johannes or Timothy are, but she’s in no shape to find her bedroom. With a grumbling sigh, I kneel before her and heft her against my chest. She complies with my efforts and winds her arms around my neck, letting me secure her in place. She’s as light as a petal.
“No, I don’t want to fly,” she mumbles into my shoulder as I carry her down the hall. We stop outside her room—one I only know is hers because it’s directly across from mine. She fights me as I try to pry her room key from her fingers, but her efforts are weak.
“Calm down, Weenie, I’m trying to get you safely to your room.”
“Oh. You.” She says it with no small amount of disdain but relinquishes her key by shoving it against my cheek. I snatch it before it can slide down my face and into my collar. Then, shifting her weight to one arm, I unlock her door. Once inside the room, I sweep over to her bed, guided by the meager moonlight creeping through the window. I lay her gently upon the mattress and remove her spectacles, not letting my hands linger any longer than necessary. She burrows into the pillows without bothering to undress or get under the blankets.
She’s going to regret sleeping in her clothes and corset, but I’m not about to undress her. Instead, I can ensure the room is warm. After I set her lenses on her nightstand, I light the stove, pour her a glass of water, and return to her side.
“You should drink something.” I keep my voice soft and low as I crouch beside the bed.
“No more Cloud Dive,” she mutters.
“Not Cloud Dive. Water.”
With a groan, she stirs and pushes herself up slightly. I aid her efforts to drink until she’s taken a few hearty swallows. Then I return the glass to the nightstand.
She falls back onto her pillows. “What’s stabbing me in the head?”
“Probably a headache.”
She groans again, then begins tugging at her hair.
Oh, right, the nest of tangles and pins she constructed.
“You’re making it worse,” I say and plant myself at the edge of her mattress. Then, gingerly, I seek out one pin at a time and tug it free from her hair. Another experience I have, thanks to my sister. Once I’ve removed all the pins—or what I can only assume are all of them with the disastrous mane Edwina has—I smooth out her tangles as best I can. She can do the rest with a brush on the morrow.
“You’re not William,” she says, eyes closed.
“I’m not?”
“No. You’re being nice to me. You must be Monty. You saved me from a wicked villain. You’re my hero, Mr. Phillips.”
I scoff. “All Monty did was encourage our bet. He’s an accomplice in stupidity, not a hero.”
She whimpers. “No, I’m too late! It must be past midnight now.”
“It doesn’t matter,” I say, rising to my feet. “We’ll dissolve the bargain tomorrow.”
She says nothing to that. Perhaps she didn’t hear me. There’s no point talking about it now anyway. I’ll wait until we have a moment to speak in private when she’s sober and willing to listen to reason.
“Who did William choose?” she whispers.
I frown. “Hmm?”
