Page 92 of This Is Not True Love’s Kiss

My head swam with the information. This was everything I’d wanted for myself, for my people. And Lor was doing it all. He was giving me everything I’d ever desired. My eyes filled with tears, my hands growing clammy, my heart thumping.

I broke off our dance and backed away from Lor, who looked at me with concern. “This is too much,” I said. “I can’t⁠—”

“Oh no,” someone muttered from nearby. “They’re about to have another fight.”

“Well there goes my ten gold coins,” someone else said, handing the coins to the person next to them.

Lor shot them a look that could kill, and they immediately cowered.

He took a step forward, holding out a hand like I was a wild horse that would bolt at any moment. “Aoife,” he said. “Talk to me.”

I shook my head, the tears spilling down my cheeks, my vision blurring. Without another word, I turned and ran.

CHAPTER 50

Aoife

Iwasn’t sure where I was going. Just that I needed to get away. I tore through the street, passing fire after fire as people called for me, and I ignored every one of them. I rounded the bend in the road, doused in dark as the festival lights faded and I got farther away from the chatter, the noise. I didn’t want to be inside of Fairwitch Isle anymore. I just needed to get out, to be free.

I ran straight through the barrier, twigs and leaves snapping and crunching under my feet. I pushed aside branches, and one caught on my dress. I didn’t even hesitate before ripping the fabric of my skirt and letting the branch have it, continuing on my way deeper into the forest where the canopies grew thicker, the trees taller and more gnarled.

I tripped over a raised root, and stumbled against a tree, sobs wracking my body.

“Aoife.” And then he was there, right behind me.

I didn’t miss a beat, summoning a portal to take me to the castle. One minute I was standing in the forest, and the next I was in a hallway, Lor right behind me.

I turned and beat my fists against his chest. “Why won’t you leave me alone?”

“Is that what you want?” No anger in his voice, just this gentle, patient cadence that I didn’t deserve.

“No,” I said, crying harder.

He opened the door next to us, and I realized I’d portaled right outside of his bed chamber. Probably a subconscious decision. I certainly hadn’t done it on purpose.

He tugged me into his room, the door clicking closed behind us, the black floors so shiny, the little nook by the window so inviting. I’d curl up there right now if I weren’t so agitated, so on edge.

Lor didn’t say anything, just came up behind me and held me, his musky bergamot scent wrapping around me.

I cried for what felt like hours. I wasn’t sure how much time had passed before I pushed out of his arms.

“I hated you for so long,” I said over my shoulder. “I hated you, and I hated my life.” I started pacing while Lor stood there, cloaked in half darkness, half moonlight shining through the curved windows. “Over the last month, things changed between us, and I thought, maybe we can work together. Then you kissed me, and I thought, maybe we can work together and kiss too.” I took a heaving breath. “I never thought love would be part of this thing between you and I.”

“It doesn’t have to be,” Lor said, though pain twisted his features as he said it.

I let out a frustrated growl. “Why do you have to be so good all the time? Why do you have to always say the right thing, always do the right thing? Why are you being so nice to me when I’m being so terrible?”

Lor stroked his stubbled jaw. “Because I see you. Just like you saw through my control issues, saw to heart of them and knew it was anxiety, I see your fear. I see your doubts. And just like you weathered my anxieties, helped me face them and understand them, I will weather this storm with you, Aoife, my warrior queen.”

“But I don’t deserve it.” My voice broke. “Lor, I’ve been alone my whole life. I’ve been beaten, commanded, respected and revered, worshipped. Liked, even. But I’ve never been loved.”

His nostrils flared. “You have by at least one person, and I promise that you’re every bit deserving of that love.”

“What if I’m not?” I asked in a small voice because that was at the bottom of all of this. Not fear of being controlled or chained—because it was clear Lor would do neither of those things to me—but fear that I was not worthy of this title, of this community, of this man. “I’ve hated you, argued with you, ignored you, said awful things to you. You could have a wife who is docile, who listens, who doesn’t run away from you.”

His lips twitched. “I could.”

My heart sank.