With whom I choose to spend my time is none of their business.
Trevor and I meander through the vendors selling pies, buns, cakes, and biscuits of all flavors. We find Nia at one of the stalls, helping her mother arrange pies. When she sees us, she skips to my side, our argument from last week finally forgotten.
“Will we go for drinks?” she asks, bonfire light sparkling in her eyes.
It’s one of the first times since our fight that she has looked at me without animosity. How I’ve missed her smile. The three of us head over to where the line meanders in front of the temple. To my eternal delight, Ivee arrives a moment later in a flurry of lacy pink skirts.
For once, she doesn’t glare or glower at us, which immediately makes me suspicious. “Did you hear the news?” she gasps, her cheeks as pink as her gown.
Nia manages to control her scowl as the three of us shake our heads.
Ivee leans closer. “William told Shiela that the Unseelie didn’t come to the well today.”
Why is Nia looking at me like that? This is hardly my fault.
They’re probably still hunting. Or maybe something went wrong. I hope Ever is all right. If there weren’t so many people, I’d venture to the bridge to find out myself.
“Of course they didn’t,” a mocking voice says from behind me. My shoulders stiffen as Ronan and Nolan join our group. “We all know the Unseelie are allergic to happiness,” Ronan continues, his eyes narrowed on where I cling to Trevor’s arm.
After some speculation, mostly between Ivee and Ronan, we finally reach the front of the line. This wine cannot come soon enough.
Despite Ronan’s protests, Trevor insists on buying the first round. When he tries to hand the prince his drink, Ronan looks down at the glass as if it’s filled with lava.
Petulant prince.
If anyone wants to know what a sore loser looks like, they need look no further.
I swipe the glass for myself and then drain them both before discarding them in one of the rubbish barrels.
Ivee might be the one hanging on Ronan’s every word and clinging to his arm like a barnacle, but I can feel his eyes on me.
The simplest way to escape is to join the dancers.
For once, I’m the one dragging Nia into the fray. By the time we finish the reel, we’re both breathless and our stomachs ache from laughter.
My smile falters when I catch Ronan leaning toward Trevor, their expressions grim as they converse. From the way Trevor glances my way, I have a sinking feeling they’re talking about me.
Heaven only knows what Ronan is saying. The prince really has become a thorn in my side. The sooner he marries, the better.
When we get back to our friends, Trevor hands me a fresh glass of wine but keeps me at arm’s length. Each time I try to step closer, he takes a step in retreat, until he nearly collides with one of the tables surrounded by merrymakers.
Enough is enough. “Have I done something to offend you?”
He suddenly finds the cobblestones very interesting. “I don’t know what you mean.”
What is it with these Seelie men and their penchant for lying? “I saw you speaking to Ronan, and now you’re acting as if I’m covered in smallpox. I demand to know what he said to you.”
“Do you mind if we continue this conversation tomorrow? I’m suddenly quite tired?—”
“Trevor.”
My date grimaces even as his gaze darts around the crowded square. “I’m dreadfully sorry, Kerris. If I’d known you and Ronan were still involved, I never would have offered to escort you tonight.”
“We’re not involved. We haven’t been in ages.”
His brow lifts as if he doesn’t believe a word I’m saying. “Look, I am quite fond of you, but you don’t know the prince the way I do, and I cannot afford to be his enemy.”
The prince’s enemy? What in the world is he talking about?
