“Stop. You’re staying here.”
“What? Why?”
“Because I’m trying on a shirt, not putting on a show.”
I know exactly what’ll happen if he follows me back there. While I’m already going hard at the thought, that curtain wouldn’t offer even an illusion of privacy. Emlyn doesn’t care, but despite his efforts to immerse me in fae culture, I’m not into public copulation just yet.
“Whatever. But I’m getting you this.” He brandishes the swash of green threateningly.
Five minutes later, we join the crowd of people swarming Aedallan, the capital city of Aedys, for the royal wedding. Emlyn explained that this is a big event, since fae royals rarely wed; they can live for thousands of years, and typically only marry once in their lifetime. People have traveled from all over to attend, and while the official celebration isn’t until tomorrow afternoon, the common folk have been celebrating all week.
It’s not as nerve-wracking as the last time I walked through a fae village, despite the teeming crowds. Everyone’s so focused on getting from one celebration to the next, with bodies constantly bumping into one another, that no one spares me a second glance. Emlyn holds my hand as he leads the way, weaving through the party-seekers.
Aedallan’s built in a forest of ginormous pine trees. The late afternoon sun peeks through their canopy, the shadows lit by those same floating orbs I spotted in the woods after I incanted. As best I can tell, the places for public gatherings—shops, gardens, taverns, and the like—make up the lower levels of the city.
Emlyn swerves off the main path toward a walled-off area with a line of people waiting outside. Pulling me to the front of the queue, he whispers something to the woman at the entrance. She purses her lips, then nods. Emlyn kisses her cheek and guides me past.
I glance back, but she’s already out of sight. “Who was that?”
He lets go of my hand and squeezes my shoulders. “An old fling. You don’t need to worry about it.”
Even if he could lie, I’d believe him. I see how he looks at me. Though it does leave me wondering just how many people he’s slept with.
We stand at the start of a twisting path through a maze-like garden, full of people mingling. Most gather at what looks like barrels—if someone smoothly molded them out of solid chunks of wood—standing about a dozen feet apart along the trail.
Emlyn grabs two wooden cups from someone passing by and hands one to me. “We’re gonna find a drink we both like or get completely sloshed trying.”
My stomach flips over as I recall the fig wine. “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather do something else?” I focus intently on his eyes. “Literally anything else?” After what I’ve learned the last two nights with him, that’s not an offer I make lightly.
“Hmm…” He trails his finger along my jawline, sending a tingle through me. “Tempting, but no. This is important to me.”
I’m not proud of the whine in my voice. “Why?”
“I want to have something we can share.”
The sentiment would normally have butterflies flitting through my stomach, but I’m too busy gagging at the gooey liquid oozing down the sides of the nearby revelers’ cups. Emlyn pulls me toward the first barrel.
I yank him back. “No, we’re skipping that one. Nothing thick. Not unless you’re into me spewing my guts all over you.”
Emlyn clicks his tongue. “Can’t say I am.”
The next drink at least has a normal consistency for potable fluids, its bright red liquid filling my cup as I dip it into the barrel. As I bring it to my mouth, my stomach heaves in warning at its sickly sweet scent. I glance at Emlyn, who watches me as he takes a sip, then swallow the whole thing in one gulp. Its sweetness smacks my tastebuds, but at least it passed through my mouth fast enough that its taste doesn’t linger.
“Thoughts?” Emlyn asks.
“Definitely not that one.” I try to wash out what remains with my spit.
“That’s unfortunate. But I appreciate the enthusiasm.” He leans in to kiss me, slipping his tongue between my lips.
“Nope!” I yelp, pushing him off me. “You do not get to kiss me tasting like that!”
“Fine,” he sighs. “Let’s find something bitter, then.”
The sun has basically given up and set by the time we do. I’ve never considered myself a lightweight, but I’m well into tipsy before we find something I can take more than one swig of. Emlyn’s brow crinkles as he drinks it, but he claims it’s bearable. He disappears briefly to ask what it is, and when he returns, we refill our cups and find somewhere out of the way to sit. Laughter fills the air as we watch the crowd continue hunting for their new favorites.
It’s no different from the festivals back home. I wish everyone could see this—that despite being splintered and warring for millennia, fae and humans are basically the same. We all just want to enjoy life with our loved ones.
I wrap my arm around Emlyn, then nod at the glowing orbs dancing above our heads. “What are these things, anyway?”
