Page 26 of This Is Not True Love’s Kiss

I thought of the castle kitchen, of that last time Aoife and I were in that kitchen together. “She’s up to something.”

“So don’t go,” Wolfe said.

Then I’d be just like her. Making zero effort to try and come together, to find some common ground.

I lay down the scroll, leaning back on my hands, thinking.

“May I make a suggestion, Your Majesty?” Fargus hopped forward.

“Of course,” I said. I’d welcome any advice at this point.

“Maybe you don’t have to play the same game as Aoife. Maybe you can play a different, but equally effective, one.”

“How?” I asked.

Fargus spread out his wings. “Tell her you’ll only participate in her activities if she’ll start attending all meetings and attending to her duties as queen.”

I straightened at that. It would make her furious, but it could also be a chance to show her how we can work together. It could be a chance for her to finally get involved in the politics of this job. It would force her to spend time with me, which could be a disaster.

“So what game is he playing, exactly?” Wolfe tossed his head toward me.

Fargus spoke in his matter-of-fact voice. “While Aoife is trying to convince Lor there’s only one person right for this job, Lor will be showing her that’s not true. That they can work together.”

“Fargus,” I said slowly, “that’s genius.”

“I was only inspired by your own words, Your Majesty, about the importance of community and working together.”

I stared down at the invitation, then looked back up at the owl. “Tell my wife I’ll be there.”

Wolfe stared at me with his rich brown eyes, the same dark shade as mine. “What is it you’re not telling me? Why do you look like you’re going to be walking to your death?”

I sighed, unwanted memories flooding me. “It’s a long story.”

CHAPTER 12

Lor, one year and six months earlier

Ibarged into the kitchen to see Aoife standing there, the sun shining over her black hair. An apron hung over her tunic and leather trousers as she mixed some kind of creamy white sauce I didn’t recognize, but the air smelled like sugar and cinnamon.

“So this is where you’re hiding.” I crossed my arms.

She didn’t jump, just looked up at me coolly and kept stirring. I stalked toward her, my anger rising as I stopped in front of the wooden island where she stood.

The burner on the stove flared bright, fire flickering from it like it was expecting something. Aoife stopped stirring and put the cast iron pot over the heat, her back to me.

I’d barely seen her since our disastrous wedding night a few weeks earlier, but today, of all days, I thought she’d make her appearance.

“Fargus sent multiple reminders. He asked Meera to put it on your calendar. Damnit, Aoife, this was important. We were supposed to be a united front. It was a chance for us to pick our council members together. The people who will help us make some of the most important decisions for Fairwitch Isle. Do you know how humiliating it was to arrive and wait for you, for you to just never show up?”

My jaw clenched as I remembered the way everyone had whispered to each other, sent wary looks my way.

“I could’ve used your input. I don’t know the Fair Folk nearly as well as you do.”

“After two thousand years gone, I barely know them.” Her voice was oddly devoid of emotion. “And since when did you become my master? Here I was thinking we were partners, but it turns out I don’t have much say at all.” She licked cream-covered spoon, then made a sound of contentment as she placed the spoon on the counter.

“I’m not your master,” I said through gritted teeth. “These are your queenly duties as laid out in the manifesto. I didn’t write that, Aoife, but I do follow it. I arrive to things on time. I take my role seriously.”

Not seriously enough, clearly. Arthon’s voice echoed in my mind. She is out of control, and if you don’t stop her, you’ll fail everyone. Again. Utter disappointment.