“I gotta go,” I say, squirming. “I’m going to be late.”
“Lady Kassandra doesn’t get up until the afternoon and you know it.” He buries his face in the crook of my neck.
“Yes, but I’m supposed to be up there now!”
He pulls back, hands heavy on my shoulders, scanning my face. “Did everything go okay? What was the Unluckie like?”
“He was normal. Polite and in shock as they usually are.”
“Right,” Jeremee says. “Of course.”
Laughter filters toward us, a set of footsteps growing close.
I stiffen in Jae’s grasp, panic rising. The only servants down in the Nest at this time are Scarps like Jeremee or Bases on break from the fields. My system only works because the Night Crest servants are now asleep, and the other Day Crest servants think I’m on my twelve-hour shift. No one in the kitchens knows that Lady Kassandra sleeps so much and eats so little. According to them, I’ve already served her breakfast at the normal hour and on a silver tray. Not in a jute sack to an Unluckie.
“We need to leave,” I say.
“We can go back into the Peri tunnel, but we may be spotted.”
“Let’s just put our heads down as we pass them. They might not recognize me,” I try.
“Of course they will,” Jae whispers. “You’ve lasted under Lady Kassandra longer than a year.”
“It’s only been two!”
“Still more than most.”
The voices round the corner, coming down the corridor.
“Sorry” is all Jeremee manages to say before pressing me to the wall, his body bracketing mine. Stones push into my back. Jae lowers his head, blocking the light. I’m tall for a faerie, but he’s taller, his lithe body curled around mine. I could tell him to back off and he would, but the laughter of males fills my ears, and though they are faerie does not mean they are friend. Long ago, the redheaded cook accused my mother of slipping me apple slices. When the halfling guards punished my mother even after I purged the apple in absolution, the cook almost looked guilty. She still took her reward: five copper coins in exchange for each fingernail they splintered. My mother became more cautious in the following years.
I think of the wonder in the Unluckie’s voice, those inked eyes. He will be punished more severely than that if caught.
I shiver. Jeremee rubs the goosebumps budding across my arms.
“Stop fidgeting,” he murmurs, but his hand pauses on my biceps. “Am I making you uncomfortable?”
“Of course not. It isn’t every day I get to pretend I’m one of your lovers.”
I meant it as a jest. But he stills, and his eyes find mine. Heat rolls off his skin, his breath on the side of my face. My heart thumps. I cannot look away first; to do so is to admit more than I’d like.
The faeries spot us. Jae goes even more rigid. Planes, he frets more than a grandmother might.
I yank him closer by the shirt, and he lets out a puff of surprise. His hard chest pushes me against the wall, and he cradles the back of my skull before it can hit the stone. Fingers twining into my waves, he glances down at my lips, his own a breath away. His heart hammers in my palm, his throat bobbing, and I want to scrape nails along his clavicle. Bring forth a blush to his flesh that’s building under mine. But we are just playing a role.
The snickering males pass by, one whistling. Jae’s attention israpt, as if I had slipped a hand between his legs to hold him there instead.
When their voices fade, he steps away, slipping hands in his pockets. Cool, empty air rushes my skin.
“Sorry.” I shiver again, then slip past him without another word, taking the passage to the Nest once more. He follows, silent. Only after I’ve reached the threshold of the Illusion kitchens does he speak.
“Careful,” he says. “Please.”
“Always,” I answer, forcing a smile.
“I didn’t mean to—”
“It’s okay,” I cut in. It would hurt to know exactly what hedidn’t mean:to touch me, to react to me? Had he hated it? The truth is, my feelings started to shift after my mother’s death. But no matter how much not having him pains me, I cannot lose him, either. I’m a faerie, after all. I know how to settle for scraps.
