Page 8 of This Is Not True Love’s Kiss

“Go away,” I shouted. “I’ve got this.”

Their footsteps pattered across the floor, fading into the distance, and I gestured to the seat across from me. “Please sit?”

Aoife let out an annoyed huff but dropped into the chair.

It was finally time to speak with my wife.

CHAPTER 3

Aoife

Isat across from Lor, candlelight dancing over his rugged face, the room dark other than our little table. Rose petals spread out across the floor. I snorted at the ridiculousness of it all. That Ambrose, of all people, would’ve been involved in this.

“The chicken is good,” Lor said, chewing. “You should try it.”

“Why didn’t you sign my request to change our schedules?” I asked, twirling my butter knife between my fingers. It was taking all my restraint not to stab Lor with it.

He didn’t look remotely perturbed. So rigid, so cold. “Because it wouldn’t benefit our people,” he said.

I groaned, my head tipping back as I stared up at the ceiling, at the shadows from the candles dancing across it. “You do know that in order for our people to thrive, we need to do so as well. And I’m not thriving. I need space. From you.”

His stubbled jaw ticked, and pleasure shot through me that I’d gotten that reaction out of him. It was hardly noticeable, but it was there.

“Why?” His brown eyes shot up to meet mine. “We don’t need to be enemies. Can’t we just find a way to work together?”

I leaned forward, elbows resting on the table. “What do you think we’ve been trying to do for the last two years? It’s not working.”

“It could if you would just . . .”

I groaned again, so frustrated I wanted to tear my hair out. It was always me. I was always the problem somehow.

“You do know it takes two people to be in a marriage,” I said. “In a partnership.”

“I’ve noticed tension lately among our people. Just early this morning I witnessed Myrna jabbing a fish into Gidhe’s chest.”

I snorted at that image. I liked Myrna. She was a fierce one. “I would’ve gotten out my snacks, sat down, and had a nice show.”

“It’s not funny,” he said, his jaw working back and forth. “We need each other. The Fair Folk are still in danger. You might not be cursed or invisible anymore, but as long as the brotherhood are out there, you’ll be a target. If they managed to capture one of you⁠—”

“We don’t need anything from you.” My anger flared. “I broke my curse and came back, so it’s only a matter of time before we eliminate the brotherhood. We won’t be trapped here forever.”

“I broke your curse,” he corrected, his dark eyes boring into me, the same way they had when I’d first awoken two years ago, Lor’s face the first thing I’d seen in thousands of years, his dark waves brushing his shoulders, his strong jaw clenched, eyes pinched in concern. “And I don’t think anyone sees Fairwitch Isle as a ‘trap’ except for you. In fact, the Fair Folk seem incredibly happy here.”

His words twisted my heart. It was true. My people did seem happy here, happy to just follow the mortal laws, happy to partake in mortal traditions, happy to be ruled by a mortal. And here I was on the outside, not understanding any of it, not knowing how to insert myself when they’d moved on, lived thousands of years, without me.

I looked down at the roasted chicken. Even our food had no trace of the Fair Folk in it. We’d never eaten chicken before, our diets mostly vegetarian. Yet all the Fair Folk I knew prepared meals like this, as if they’d forgotten the recipes we’d made, the meals we’d shared together.

I pushed my plate away. “Sign the damn request.”

Lor took another bite of his chicken. “No.”

“Then I’ll make your life miserable.”

“You already do,” he said, voice sounding so tired.

I let out a strangled sound of frustration. “Why are you like this?”

“Because that’s my duty. That is what I signed up for when I accepted the crown. Peace and prosperity begin with us, the leaders. We need to rise above these inane arguments.”