Why did she come? This is a mystery I cannot seem to solve.
Not that the answer matters in the end.
I will keep her safe.
I will take her home.
To her family and friends. To her Nolan.
Using my dagger, I stab the glowing coals, picturing the male’s terrible face.
My own happiness is nothing compared to Nia’s.
My shoulder begins to throb, but my ribs are the real problem. Then there is the cut on the back of my skull.
This night promises to be a long one, especially with this beautiful female using me as her mattress.
Many times, I have sat by a fire and listened for wild animals, but never alongside one whose face is so pleasing.
If only she felt the same way about my grotesque face.
I am well versed in unrequited affection. First, there was Leah. We were younglings when we were introduced, and she only befriended me to get to Ever. Then, there was Wren. She did not want more than friendship.
I am only a stone to step on. Never the destination.
It is no different with this Seelie.
The last handful of days, I have lived in self-imposed exile, needing time and space to assess my life.
After the wolf, I left Gryffin’s wagon in search of more prey, but each time I met a new animal, I did not have the heart to take its life. Realizing I was no good to anyone on the Unseelie side of the canyon either, I decided to return to the castle, to my Biscuits, but could not manage to make myself cross the bridge.
Instead, I collected stones and sat on the edge, tossing them into the void and trying to listen for any indication that there was a bottom.
I no longer need stones to tell me there is. I am here with a beautiful Seelie fae who says she is sorry for the words she spoke.
But it is I who am sorry for my words.
Not wanting to move Nia, I feed the fire as best I can with the brush and debris that are close by. The fire is small, but it should keep the beasts at bay this night. Wolves do not like fire—one of the many lessons we are taught when young.
In my search for fuel, I discover a decent young branch that feels malleable enough. If Nia is willing to lend me some of the ribbons from her hair, I will be able to make a crude bow. The straighter sticks can be carved into arrows, and the longer one, a spear. They will not be useful against larger prey but may pierce a fish’s flesh. I do not mind killing fish as much as the other animals. I think it might be because they are not fluffy. What is it about fluff that makes something so much cuter?
I do hope Biscuits is all right. Kerris Dawn is probably spoiling him so much that he does not miss me at all.
It is a wonder anyone noticed I was gone in the first place.
Nia wakes with the dawn. A smile breaks across her face, followed by a scowl that is nearly as endearing. She sits up suddenly, her hands flying to her wild mane of snowy hair as she scans our surroundings. “It’s real,” she breathes. “We’re really stuck in The Divide? I thought for certain it was a nightmare.”
Would she think this was such a nightmare if she were stuck with the Nolan?
I straighten my shoulders, determined to be the best guide possible. “Fear not, Nia Quill. I will take you home.”
This makes her lips purse. There is dirt smudged at the corner of her mouth, but I do not point this out. She is still the most beautiful creature, even when she is covered in muck.
“I wish you would just call me Nia. We are friends, after all.”
“We are not friends.”
I have heard this sentiment too many times before. Being called a friend this way has always meant that we will never be anything more.
