I give a little laugh, but I’m torn by his words. “Why are you always picking fights with him?”
He shrugs. “It’s a fae thing. Old habits.” His tone shifts. “You want to know a secret?”
I hope I don’t regret this.“Maybe.”
“We’ve all wanted to kill each other since we were born. The only reason we don’t is because we’re the last ones leftof the royal lines, and we kind of want to be done with the whole killing-each-other-until-there’s-no-one-left thing. We want peace for our kids, even if we can’t stand to be near each other.”
I think about that. “So why do all of you have balls and parties together all the time?”
He snorts. “After the curse, most of the fae courts decided to move to the same castle. I think part of us were hoping that if we could show the goddess that we could get along, she’d reverse the curse. And I think the other part of us didn’t want to go back to our homes, homes that were full of nothing but death and loss. There were times in the past where we didn’t murder each other. But mostly, it was war. Petty, ugly war, throughout all of history.”
“Why?”
He takes a really long time to answer. “We’re just… so different.”
“Humans fight each other over differences too. I guess no one knows how to just accept different kinds of people and focus on ourselves.”
He shakes his head. “You constantly surprise me with your wisdom. Maybe if we had someone like you guiding the fae houses, we might be able to change the simmering tension between us into something softer.”
A picture of his words forms in my mind. “Me, guiding the fae? Yeah, right. They’d never listen to a lowly human like me.”
Ashton gives me a funny look then lies back and closes his eyes. I study the planes of his face, his sharp cheekbones, a mouth made for smiling but just as often set in a line of disappointment. He looks peaceful. I wonder if he ever really is.
He opens his eyes and catches me staring. “You’re thinking too hard,” he says.
“I can’t help it,” I mutter.
He traces a finger down my arm. “Tell me about your last day before coming to the fae lands.”
I tense. “It’s not a happy story.”
“Did I ask for a happy story?” he asks with a smile.
I try to summon it, but all I get is the cold. Emptiness. Pain. “As you know, my grandfather frequently beat me,” I say, and for some reason it’s easy to say it. “With a leather strap. The most recent time was because one of our chickens got killed.”
“Was it your fault?” Ashton’s voice is even.
“No.” I laugh again. “But it didn’t matter. He always found a reason.”
Ashton moves closer, his hand almost on my arm. “I’m sorry,” he says, and I know he means it.
I shake my head, blinking back the sudden sting in my eyes. “I always knew they didn’t want me, but when they started talking about selling me to Mr. Clay, I didn’t think—” I bite down on it.
“They’re not your real family,” Ashton says. “You know that, right?”
It hurts, but I nod.
He offers a smile, softer than before. “You could stay with us, when we get out. I’m sure we could find you a castle. Or a garden. Or even a bakery, if you’re into that.”
The idea is so alien it’s almost funny. “I don’t want a castle with the fae,” I say. “I just want to be happy and safe. Somewhere.”
He laughs. “You say that now. But you’d miss us after a day.”
I smirk. “Unlikely.”
Eating another piece of cheese, I look up at the hedge. “Do you really think they’ll find us?”
He considers my words. “I hope so. But if not… we’ll be fine.”
