She hadn’t lied — she would love him forever. But neither had she lied when she told him she wasn’t the same elf he’d left. Five years was a tiny splash in the lifespan of an elf, but it was long enough. She had changed.
The absence had been a matter of days for Tate, and he had not.
She couldn’t go back to the way they were, not with Aelin as a consideration. He would need to bewillingto change, to learn how to trust, to let her in fully . . . and if he couldn’t, she’d already convinced herself that some things weren’t meant to last forever.
Aelin was still chattering when she pulled open the back door of the Plundered Pixie, asking whether earthworms were lonely in the ground, running past Silva on the short corridor to pound up the steps.
She was halfway up when the door swung open.
He filled it entirely, an almost palpable tension wavering about him like a halo. Silva paused, staring up, holding onto the banister for dear life. He’d made his choice, then.
“I heard you coming,” Tate explained, his eyes fixed on the small elf on the staircase before him, remembering himself after a moment, stepping aside.
Silva forced herself to keep breathing, pushing up the rest of the way, following Aelin into the apartment. “Someone was asking questions about the relative loneliness of earthworms,” she answered lightly. Her breath caught when the door clicked closed.
This was real. He was here. He’d chosen them.
The apartment smelled like oranges. Silva knew the citrus-bright odor was that of his favorite industrial-strength cleaner, and she also knew the way his anxiety manifested. Control over all. She had no doubt he’d scrubbed every inch of the apartment above the pub twice over, ignoring his injuries until his incision was likely bleeding. The kitchen counter held appliances, the sofa a new throw. She had never replaced the little pothos above the desk, but he had: a long-reaching arm of bright green leaves tumbling down. An antique floor lamp she remembered having stood beside the door had reappeared, as had several other items that had lived in the big room before he’d vanished. They’d been in storage, clearly. And now they were back, returned to their rightful spots.Home.
They were staring at each other, transfixed.
“Aelin, this is our friend, Tate.”
Seeing them face-to-face for the first time took her breath away. Silva had told herself so many times that Aelin didn’t actually resemble him that she’d almost convinced herself, so focused on that face in her nightmares. But nothing could be further from the truth, now that she was able to compare them side-by-side. Tate shared his mother’s long, slender neck, sharp cheekbones and angled jaw. His mouth was wider to accommodate his tusks, his face broader in general, but it was all there.
And Aelin was his miniature, with Silva’s coloring and long, Elvish ears.
Whatever Tate was feeling in that moment, Silva had to give him credit, for he hid it entirely. “Aelin,” he echoed softly. “How do you do, Miss?”
Aelin was staring up at him just as intently. “Hi.” Her little eyes squinted, taking his measure. “You’re very tall.”
Tate smiled, softly, entirely absent of menacing teeth. Silva saw the quiver of emotion there, just beneath the surface. “That’s because I eat loads of broccoli. And they’re just tiny trees. They’ve been growing inside me all this time, so that’s likely the cause.”
Aelin nodded as if it made sense to her. “That’s probably why you’re green!” She cocked her head, considering him.That’s you right there. That little tilt is all you.“Mama said you were in the hospital.”
Silva sucked in a breath when Aelin put her hand in his, could tell Tate was doing the same, allowing himself to be led to the sofa. Her little watcher, who didn’t like anyone right away, who didn’t trust anyone other than Silva until she’d watched Silva closely, taking her cues. She took Tate by the hand as if it were the most natural thing in the world, directing him to sit while she stood before him.
“I was,” he confirmed. “I got hurt.”
“Was it a dragon?”
Tate cocked his head, a mirror reaction. Silva could see the smile playing at the edge of his mouth, but he was treating the conversation as deadly serious. “How did you know?”
Aelin nodded again, as if her suspicions had been confirmed. “There was a dragon storm at our new house. I had to sit in the bathtub.”
Tate’s eyes flickered to Silva, and then hedidsmile. “Oh, I know all about dragon storms. Your mother is an expert.”
“Did the dragon bite you with his teeth? Is that why you have a bandage under your eye?”
His smile faded slightly, and he nodded. “He tried. He did this with his claw,” he pointed at the wound beneath his eye. “He stepped on me with his great foot and broke my ribs.” Tate pointed at his side, running a finger down his rib cage like a xylophone. “Just here. Hetriedto bite me, but I got away.”
“That’s lucky. They can’t fix dragon bites at the hospital. We went shopping for you. Did you eat your peanut butter?”
“That was you?! I’d wondered who knew just what to buy. Didyoupick out my favorite tea as well? I found it in the cupboard, and I was so happy that I didn’t need to drink from a puddle on the roof.”
Aelin cocked her head again, her eyes narrowed, giving him a skeptical look. “You could have had water from the sink.”
Tate laughed, and Silva could hear the emotion churning there, rocking like a wave. “Aye, I suppose you’re right, wee princess.”
