A year ago, I certainly would have. Damn, even a few months ago I would have. But ever since Kel sent Rosie away, it all changed for me. Everything. Objectively, I’m sure this fae woman is pretty, even if it feels wrong admiring a holy person. Large eyes, chestnut hair, plump lips. She reminds me a little of Rosie. Or maybe my every thought leads me back to her.
“I’ve been incredibly rude,” I finally say. “I never asked your name, or do you have to give that up in service of the Queen?”
She shakes her head, letting out a musical laugh. “You certainly have a unique view of our order. I get to keep my name. It’s Wrenley.”
“Wrenley, huh? That’s kind of cute.” I flash her a grin, and deep crimson stains her cheeks. “And my name—”
“You’re the High Prince of Summer,” she says. “Daytonales. Everyone knows who you are.”
“Call me Dayton. I hope my reputation hasn’t scared you off too much.”
“The feats of your bravery are certainly true. If you hadn’t been there—”
I shake my head. “You were the brave one. Most people would have left those animals to the goblins.”
“You wouldn’t have.” She lightly touches my arm, and I notice her fingers are calloused. “As for the rest of your reputation, I guess I’ll have to find out for myself.”
Shaking out of her grip, I pace away. “Rumors are always more fascinating than the real thing.”
This isn’t like me at all. A year ago, I would have already had this woman flat on her back in my room, just for the challenge of getting her to scream my name instead of the Queen’s. And why not? She’s pretty and she likes me, clear enough in her touches and glances.
But I can’t stop looking at the monastery on the hill. Why? To catch a glimpse of the two mates returning, mates destined to be in love with each otherforever?
“It’s fate.”
“What?”
I look back to Wrenley as she reaches under the collar of her tunic. “With such a cynical view of the world, Summer Prince, I don’t expect you to believe in such things, but … There was a reason you were climbing the mountain at that time. The first thing I saw when I opened my eyes was a necklace like mine.”
She pulls the string around her neck and holds out a seashell necklace. I walk back to her as if in a trance because damn if I hadn’t noticed that, too.
“My father was from Summer, you see,” she says. “But my mother and I lived in a village on Mount Lumidor. He’d go back to Summer for the fishing season, and every year he’d return with a shell for me.”
Gently, I run my hand over the shells, and immediately I know they’re from the white sand beaches of my home.
“What about yours?”
“Me?” I touch my fingers to my own necklace. “Well, this one is the token of the High Prince of Summer, but I added it to a string of shells I already had. Someone really special made it for me.”
I can still see him: one of our first Summers together, his nose burnt, and cheeks spotted with freckles, sand in his auburn hair. He lay beside me, stringing a necklace of shells.Fare.
Wrenley gives a soft smile then delicately unstrings her necklace and pulls off a shell, a nautilus, the edges so bright it almost appears gold. “I want you to have this as a thank you for saving my life.”
“I couldn’t—”
“Please,” she whispers, then stands on her tiptoes and gently brushes away my hair. She unties my necklace and adds the golden shell to the string.
I grab the new shell and slide it until it’s under my nose, holding it up so it catches in the sun. “It’s beautiful. Thank you.”
As she smiles, I can’t help but think of someone else, and I try to push the thought down. Wrenley puts her necklace back on and heads to the door. “If you really want to thank me, Summer Prince, then promise me this isn’t the last time I’ll see you.”
31
Farron
Ezryn and I walk through the cloistered halls of Queen Reach Monastery. An elderly acolyte named Silvio leads us toward the armory, his back bent. There are even wrinkles on his pointed ears.He must have been serving here since the Queen left.
I look behind me. We lost Rosie a while back. I’m not surprised—it’s such a Rosalina thing to do, to get caught up in a painting or the glimmer of a sunbeam. A sense of curiosity whispers through our bond. I’m sure she’ll tell me all about whatever wonder was so fascinating when I find her.
