I hold up the gown to my chest. The skirt is a bit long, but other than that it should fit?—
Wait.
The skirt istoo long, just like all the dresses that have mysteriously shown up on my doorstep. This cannot be a coincidence. “Have you been leaving dresses at the cottage?”
“Of course.”
“Why?”
“We already discussed this, Kerris.”
“We most certainly did not.” That is something I would absolutely remember.
“You gave me a gift, so I gave you one in return.”
“I thought the gifts were the flowers.”
His lips purse. “I do not think a flower pulled from the dirt is a fair trade for an entire box of biscuits.”
“I only baked biscuits twice.” And I cannot even remember how many dresses he gave me. Seven? Eight?
A shrug. “They were going to waste beneath my bed, and no Unseelie female would be caught dead in Seelie gowns.” He nudges the toe of his boot against the trunk. “Knowing you might one day wear something that belonged to me made my heart happy.”
This man. Here I didn’t think it was possible to love him more. “Thank you, Ever.”
He glances away even as a small smile plays on his lips.
I hold up the dress once more. This skirt needs a hem if I’m going to wear it outside. If I were back at the cottage, I’d bring it to Madama Ella for altering, but since I’m here?—
Madame Ella.
She said these dresses were commissioned by the king himself.
For hismistress.
Does that mean Ever’s mother was having an affair with the king?
If what Ever said was true, and no Unseelie would be caught dead in Seelie gowns, why did his mother have so many?
Ever’s fingers drum against the doorframe. “Breakfast is getting cold.”
At the mention of food, my belly lets out a hollow grumble and all thoughts of dresses and kings fall by the wayside. There will be plenty of time to figure out the mysteryafterwe eat.
* * *
Ever has a picnic set up on his little porch. In the center of the wool blanket rests a plate of roasted meat on a spit.
“I do not know if you will like it,” he says with a grimace. “All my spices are gone.”
“That’s all right.” I’m hungry enough to eat…whatever this is whether it’s seasoned or not.
Ever slides the dark meat from the spit and then extends the plate in my direction. The brown chunk feels squishy when I pick it up. Hopefully it tastes better than it looks. With a deep breath, I pop the bite into my mouth and chew. And chew. And chew.
Not too bad.
Not too good either.
The texture is strange. Definitely not as tender as a well-cooked carrot. At least it quells my hunger. Would be better with some salt and pepper and maybe a bit of clove.
