A chuckle. “If only she shared your sentiment.”
“What of your father?” I have never met the male who sired her. Ever told me that he counts other fae’s money to provide for his family. I do not understand how this is an occupation, but then again, I am not Seelie. Their ways are strange and fantastic. This is why I moved to Rosehill.
I glance at Nia as she gathers her hair behind her shoulders.
One of the reasons, anyway.
“My father works all the time. I used to think it was necessary, but now I wonder if it’s to avoid coming home to my mother.” She reaches down to our small wood pile, snatches one of the branches, and snaps it in half. It lands in the center of thecoals; the flames lick at the fresh fuel, tasting before consuming. “I doubt he even realizes I’m missing.”
I find that difficult to believe.
I think I knew Nia Quill was missing from my life before my eyes ever met hers.
Not that I say as much. What she first told me about winning another’s affection has stuck with me like these fresh scars. Caring too much is a sure way to send her running in the opposite direction.
“You will not be missing for long. I will return you safely to your Nolan. I swear it.”
Her hand stills and instead of going for more fish, she folds her arms over her chest like she is hugging herself, making me think of number five on her list.
I would love nothing more than to wrap my arms around Nia and feel her head against my chest the way it rested over my heart last night.
Instead, I add more wood to our fire.
“He’s not mine,” she murmurs.
Not technically, I suppose. “On the anniversary of your birth?—”
“No. I mean, he’s never going to be mine. We aren’t together anymore.”
Is she saying . . .
This is . . .
I blow out a breath, and when my lungs fill once more, they are full of the most foolish of hopes.
Care less.
Do not wear heart sleeves.
Breathe.
Nia is clearly in despair; I must offer words of comfort and not shouts of joy.
Another branch snaps between her hands. “He’s marrying Ivee Lynch.”
I have heard this name before. Ivee, the Seelie word for a clinging vine. Now, if only I could picture which fae it belongs to. There were two with hair the color of celery, but I do not think they were Ivee. And the red-haired Amber.Wait. Ivee was at the castle gardens, was she not? “Your Nolan is marrying the yellow-haired female?”
She nods.
“He is the biggest fool to have ever lived.” Even a bigger fool than I am for lying. “To have had a place in your heart and then to have lost it.” I would never recover from a loss such as that. “He has surely descended into madness.” That is the only explanation there can possibly be. Otherwise, I would have seen him at her door begging for another chance.
She snorts, then sobers. “Ivee is beautiful.”
In truth, I cannot even recall the female’s face, so I am unable to comment on her looks. Not that her beauty would matter. “She is not you.”
Nia stares at me, and I do not know if this is something I should have said or if I should have swallowed those words. They are out now, dancing in the smoke between us. There is no taking them back.
“Maddox . . .”
