Or perhaps I’m imagining that’s what he means.
“But her death still wounded me, like the deaths of my parents.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Where there is life, there is death,” he states. “They died a long time ago. My mother from pneumonia. She got sick and no magic in the world could cure her. Unlike what the world believes, fae aren’t immortal.”
“And your father?”
He folds his hands over his plate, his elbows resting atop the table. “He died from a broken heart, and I was left a seventeen-year-old who had no choice but to learn how to wield power that I never expected at such a young age. Others tried to take advantage of it. One lord wanted me dead, and tried. But he didn’t succeed.” He touches a silvery scar that runs just above his collarbone. “But my father made me work hard with my magic and learn who to trust and who not to.”
“And now? Do you trust the lords now?”
“I keep the ones I do close. The others know not to challenge me. They had plenty of reasons to hate me—the fact that I’m not pure-blood, that I was young when I took control.”
“And how old are you now?”
“Thirty-eight.” Mischief flashes in his smile. “Careful,puker,you’re asking a lot of personal questions as if you care.”
“Maybe I do.” Before he can dive deeper into that, I say, “What’s it like to be a king?”
Feylin inhales a deep breath before rubbing his brow with the back of his thumb. “The responsibility isn’t anything that I take lightly. My people are who I think about when I first wake up and before I go to sleep. They are who I want to protect, with my life if need be. Their happiness and security are the most important things. It’s why I want to open trade with humans, so that the fae learn to trust them and they learn to trust us.”
I drop my elbows onto the table and stare into the light dancing in his eyes. “And what about you, what do you want?”
His jaw jumps. “What do I want?” He deflates into his chair. “No one’s ever asked me that.”
“They should, and often.”
A smile quirks his lips. “What I want is to take the tragedy and sadness of a veil being ripped because our power isn’t what it used to be, and turn that into a victory by strengthening our numbers and establishing peace.”
His kindness and dedication to others makes my heart soften even more to him than it already has. Here he is, working to help me find my magic when clearly the man has more important things to do. The fact that he’s choosing to focus on helping me makes my chest swell with an emotion that I can’t place. Pride, maybe?
“And what about you?” he asks, taking a bite of spaghetti. “When we first met, you were traveling from someplace. Where?”
“Nashville,” I reply, surprised by his question. “I live—orlived—there.”
“You did?”
“Yeah.” I wave my hand in dismissal. “My family’s lived in Castleview since before I was born, but if you don’t have magic, what’s the point of staying? Humans aren’t allowed to buy property here, and I’ve never felt like anything but a human.”
His brow wrinkles in concern. “But not because of your family.”
“No, no. Not because of them.” I twirl spaghetti around my fork, looking for a distraction because what I’m about to say sounds petty and foolish compared to guiding an entire population. “It was just what I put on myself. No magic? Might as well live with humans. But it’s okay,” I add quickly. “I have my dream job. Orhadis the better word. Until this whole marriage thing is done, I’ll be here in Castleview. Don’t get me wrong, I love this town. I do, and under any othercircumstances I would gladly live here. But it’s hard to want to when…”
My voice trails off, and he picks up the sentence. “When you don’t feel like you belong.”
I slowly nod and finally bite the spaghetti that’s tightly wound around my fork. I talk after chewing. “When you’re different, it’s hard to belong. You were different, too. You just had a bigger burden than me. But I’m not trying to compare us.”
“Don’t apologize. It’s true.”
One side of his mouth ticks up into a smile, and I find myself returning the expression. “So yeah, the night that we met, I’d just come from dinner with Edward, who I was convinced was about to propose to me because he said that he had something important to discuss. But in reality he took me to a restaurant so that he could dump me publicly. So that I wouldn’t make a scene.”
“A scene,” he bites out.
“Yeah.” A bitter laugh slips from my throat. “For so long I thought that I wanted him, fake glinting teeth and all. But now…”
He leans forward. “But now?”
