Page 27 of This Is Not True Love’s Kiss

“And you think I don’t take things seriously?” she asked, and I gestured at her apron.

“Instead of choosing your council members today, you chose to come down to the kitchen and make . . .” I wrinkled my nose. “I have no idea what you’re making, but I do know it’s not as important as what we had planned.”

“It’s a traditional dish that the Fair Folk used to make to dip breads and fruit in. A sweet sauce.”

“Okay,” I said, my impatience rising.

“And today wasn’t what we planned,” she said. “I had no say in it.”

This woman would be the death of me. Maybe the death of us all. “That was the entire point.” My molars grinded together as I used all my self restraint to not yell.

She let out a harsh laugh, flipping her long, wavy hair over her shoulder. “Do you know who wrote that manifesto? It’s one from thousands of years ago.”

“Let me guess,” I said, “the godwitches.”

“Fairwitch, actually. It was a manifesto for all the kings and queens across the realm. A way to make sure they ran their kingdoms how the godwitches intended them to. I didn’t spend years planning a rebellion, didn’t get myself turned to stone, just so I could wake up and still have to follow the law of the godwitches.”

She’d brought this up before, surprised when I’d first shown her the manifesto that guided how we ruled.

I took a step closer, her smoky scent filling me. I was trying so damn hard, and it was like Aoife was this force that stood in my way, that I had to continually fight against to do a single thing. It was exhausting, and even more so because I didn’t understand why. “No one is ever going to take you seriously as a queen if you don’t start acting like one.”

She raised her chin, and it was clear she wouldn’t be backing down either. “I don’t care what others think, and I most certainly don’t care what you think. I asked Meera to write out the council members I recommended on a note and had it sent to you.”

“I got the note,” I said stiffly.

“So what’s the problem? I did my ‘queenly’ duty.”

“You have to show up,” I said. “You have to show an effort. The people are watching. Don’t you care about them?”

“Of course I care about them.” She turned from me, and I could no longer see her face, just the tense frame of her body. “But that doesn’t mean I have to do everything like you. I don’t have to respond to your every whim. I can be a queen in my own right.”

“By cooking in the kitchen like a . . .” I trailed off, already regretting what I was about to say.

She spun on her heel, rage etched in every taut muscle of her body. “Like a what, Lor?”

I squeezed my eyes shut. I hadn’t meant to imply that. It was unkind. It was immature. It was horrible. “I’m sorry,” I said quickly. “That wasn’t appropriate.”

“I didn’t know Fairwitch Isle had slaves,” she said.

“We don’t,” I said sharply. “As you know we pay our servants well. And Chef Elowyn and Chef Liam run our kitchen wonderfully. I didn’t⁠—”

She took a step forward. “You just love to remind me how far beneath you I am.”

“I don’t, Aoife.” Godwitches, how had this conversation gone so wrong? How did every conversation between us end up like this?

“You can go now.” She turned again to stir the bubbling pot, the scent of cinnamon filling the kitchen.

I stiffened, twisting my hands around my back, feeling awkward and formal in a way I didn’t want to be with my new bride. “Would you like to review the council member choices with me?”

“No need,” she said, voice tight and clipped. “It sounds like you’ve got it all handled.”

I took half a step forward, wanting to say something—anything—to make this better, but I wasn’t sure I could. So I turned and left my wife to her cooking.

CHAPTER 13

Aoife

The scent of yeast and flour filled the castle kitchen where I stood, kneading the sticky dough on the wooden counter that sat in the middle of the space.