Elijah sighs, not put out in the slightest. “Yes, like me. There’s a reason fae myths are so pervasive throughout our literature, even to this day.” He gestures to his bookshelves.“Mine isn’t the first imagination to be captured by the lure of the beyond, and it certainly won’t be the last.”
He’s not wrong, though it’s still hard to imagine how he ended up where he did, how he tolerated that strange realm and its queen for so long.
But what do I know?
Maybe it really was like he said.
Maybe the fae queen wasn’t always so… well, so like she is.
“Do you think there are others who’ll be after me?”
I glance uneasily at Callum. What’s the best way to tell this guy that dozens of the most fearsome and cutthroat fortune hunters from across the thirteen realms are all bent on kidnapping him and dragging him back to his ex-lover?
“Probably,” Callum says, and I respect his honesty.
No use sugar-coating it, I guess.
Elijah nods grimly. “I’ll go into hiding, then. The Archwielder owes me a favor and can make sure I’m somewhere I can’t be found.”
Given the considerable skill of the hunters who are after the bounty and the bloodthirstiness of the creatures we’ve already encountered, I highly doubt that.
“But before I do…” Elijah says haltingly. “I wonder if there’s something you could do for me…”
He opens a desk drawer, pulls out a sheet of paper and a pen.
“I don’t expect you’ll ever want to return to Faerie, but if you do, I wonder if you could take a letter to the queen.”
Callum inclines his head. “You’re right. We can’t promise we’ll ever be back to her court, but you’re free to send it with us in case that changes.”
I bite back a noise of protest.
Oh, so now we’re not going back?
I mean, somewhere during this conversation, I think Callum and I both realized we wouldn’t be kidnapping the heart and taking him to the queen trussed up like a prize turkey, but…
Hell, I don’t know.
It doesn’t seem like his choice to make.
“We’ll give you some privacy to write it.” Callum stands, and I follow, the two of us retreating from the office and closing the door.
“So,” I say quietly.
“So,” he echoes.
There doesn’t seem to be a lot more to say.
At least not while we’re still here, while Elijah can probably hear us from the other side of the door.
After a few minutes of weighted silence, Elijah steps out of the office with paper in hand.
Before he folds it, I catch the very top line of text. A greeting that readsTo my dear heart.
“Maybe this will stop her,” Elijah says, handing it over. “Maybe it won’t. Will you try to let me know, either way? If you do return or hear anything, I mean.”
I nod. “Yeah, we’ll let you know.”
Beside me, Callum lets out a low, almost inaudible grunt of protest.
