Page 6 of This Is Not True Love’s Kiss

My jaw locked as we slipped in the alley between my younger brother’s apothecary store and the town tea shop. We emerged on the cobblestone street that wound around the castle, businesses lining either side of it.

“This fish is rotten!”

We stopped, staring across the street at the log cabin restaurant, where the owner, Myrna held a fish, waving it in front of Gidhe’s face. The faerie’s blue skin had a red, angry tint to it, the gills on his neck opening and closing rapidly. I still hadn’t quite gotten used to the Fair Folk and their abilities to shift, to take on whatever form they liked. Many of them, like my advisor, chose an animal form while others chose human forms but with animal features, like Gidhe with his gills.

Myrna’s white bun bobbed as she jabbed the fish into the faerie’s chest. She was pushing one hundred years old, yet that hadn’t seemed to slow her down in the slightest. “I’m not paying for this.”

Gidhe looked down at the fish head pushing into his chest. “Oh yes you are. I portaled to the sea, got you your fish, and you will damn well compensate me for my time.”

I eyed Wolfe, and he nodded. “I’m on it.”

He walked toward the arguing residents as I continued to the towering castle.

I often wondered if part of the reason why these arguments between the Fair Folk and mortals broke out was because their king and queen couldn’t even manage to come together on most things. On anything, really.

“Do you think those two will ever get along?” I nodded my head toward Myrna and Gidhe, who were now both grabbing either end of the fish in an odd tug-of-war situation.

Fargus’s wings twitched. “We’ve only been together for four years, and I think you’ve done a wonderful job of merging our communities, Your Majesty.”

More than anything, I wanted to bring these communities together. I wanted Fairwitch Isle to thrive. I wanted to make up for all the mistakes and failures of my past. The ones I couldn’t even think about because they were too fucking painful.

If Aoife could be just a little more agreeable, we could achieve all the things I wanted. Instead, I was stuck with a woman who threw temper tantrums at every opportunity and who hated me, though I wasn’t sure what I’d ever done to her. Of all the things I had to deal with, she was the most tiring and also the one thing I couldn’t rid myself of. Not ever since I made the choice to press my lips to hers and break the curse that had turned her to stone.

Fairwitch Isle’s magic had been restored and we were safe from outside enemies . . . for now. But we had to be vigilant. We had to constantly work to ensure that safety remained. And we needed to work together. The tension between me and the queen would eventually spill to our people. We wouldn’t even need enemies to destroy us when we were going to do that to ourselves.

It was my responsibility to make sure that didn’t happen. If Aoife couldn’t act like the adult in this relationship, I had to for the both of us.

His voice echoed in my head. This is on your shoulders. You have to be better than everyone else. You can trust no one but yourself.

I shook the words, the memories of him, away, but he’d be back. The ghost of him followed me everywhere.

We approached the looming castle, the sun glinting off its vaulted peaks and stained glass windows, and raised voices rang out as my younger brother, Cillian, jogged up to me, his glossy waves shining under the sunlight, his perfectly symmetrical face pinched.

“So there’s a problem,” he said in his usual chipper voice that made everything seem better than it actually was.

I pinched the bridge of my nose. “What now?”

“Sir Arthur is threatening Ambrose, who in turn is threatening to throw the suit of armor off the mountain.”

I didn’t entirely disagree with Ambrose on that front, but Sir Arthur was part of Castle’s magic, something it had brought to life, and it was not up to us to destroy it—and possibly anger Castle in the process.

“Also, Sir Arthur might have somehow gotten a hold of a real sword.” Cillian made a yeesh face as I broke out into a run toward the castle, dashing up the stairs where the twin gargoyles statues sat.

They sprang to life, both reaching out to grasp the brass handles and open the double doors.

“Hi boss!” Barty said.

“Later,” I shouted as I ran into the foyer to see Sir Arthur dueling Ambrose.

The suit of armor was painfully slow, its movements clunky and awkward as it jabbed its sword toward Ambrose. The faerie jumped back, dodging Sir Arthur’s attack. Ambrose normally wasn’t bothered by Sir Arthur, seeing the suit of armor as more amusing than anything else. I wondered what had changed this morning.

“Sir Arthur!” My voice rang out over the space, my boots clicking on the shiny white tiles as I walked toward them. “That’s enough!”

“Your Majesty! This ingrate is threatening to throw me off a cliff!”

“A tall one,” Ambrose added with a glint in his eyes. “Very tall.” He was baiting the suit of armor, acting like this was all some joke.

“At least someone’s having fun,” Cillian said, and I rolled my eyes.