Speaking of Emlyn… where is he?
“You’re up early,” his mellow voice whispers, inches from my ear. The heat of his breath sends goosebumps along my skin.
I startle back, almost falling over before my hand catches on the cold ground. “Arandur’s festering phallus!”
He chuckles as he sits next to me. “That’s a good one. Though, as much as I enjoy you insulting the man, it’d be nice if you could stop mentioning him entirely.”
I exhale as my racing heart slows. Barely. While the shock of his sudden appearance is dissipating, I’d be lying if I said my heart ever behaved around Emlyn—his being fae hasn’t put the slightest damper on that. If anything, it’s even worse now that he’s stopped using a glamour and I’m drowning in fae charisma with every glimpse of him.
“Yeah, I’ll try.” I rub my temple. “It’s only a twenty-year habit to break.”
“You were cursing when you were one?”
I blink.He knows my age?
That’s right… He was with me on my birthday.
Despite the darkness, his amber eyes sparkle with an inner, golden light. They used to be duller, but I don’t miss that. They’re more beautiful now.
Stop thinking about him that way.
“Probably? My first word certainly wasn’t ‘dada.’” Not that I know what it was since my mom didn’t give a damn.
I wrap my arms around myself and glare at the lifeless fire. Yesterday, I would’ve just,poof!Made a new one. Now, the thought of doing so makes my skin crawl.
“Something bothering you?” Emlyn asks.
A bitter huff escapes me. “No, not at all. Everything’s great. I’ve only spent the last decade unknowingly violating the spirit of the earth a hundred times a day.”
“The Land. But I don’t hold it against you—you didn’t know. Now that you do…” He shrugs. “We’ll see who you really are, I suppose.” The light in his eyes softens, and mine drift down to his lips.
No. Nope. Don’t go there. He’s fae, remember?
The entirety of my chest sinks with my next exhale. Why is that a problem?I’mthe problem. Me. The human. We’re the ones destroying everything.
I stare down the remains of the firewood Ellie and I collected last night, then pick up a couple of sticks and shove them into the pile of smoky embers in front of me.
“That’s not gonna do anything,” Emlyn says.
“Well, I don’t know how to make a fire without incanting, so it’s the best I can do.” That’s me. A life wasted on incanting, and now I have nothing.
Emlyn’s eyes seem to narrow—it’s too dark to make anything out, but the glowing disks of his irises compress. He pulls out his waterskin and takes a sip, then leans forward and brings his hand next to the dying embers.
A blaze spurts into the air, igniting all the sticks I just added.
“Wait, what?” I shift closer to the fire, glancing between his face and the flames. “Did you just—”
“That’s shaping, not incanting.”
“Shaping? You mean fae magic?”
With the firelight frolicking on Emlyn’s face, the annoyed scrunch of his brows is visible. “It’s the gift of the Land that mortals wrest out of Her to incant. I can’t create fire, but I can shape what already exists. In this case, turning a spark into a flame.”
Wait a second.
“You said your gifts faded while you were here.”
Emlyn leans back, propping himself up as he stretches out. “You’ll never stop trying to catch me in a lie, will you?”
