Page 101
Her eyebrows furrow in confusion. My chin jerks one centimeter to the left, and she knows my meaning immediately. Like she always does. Guards, I tell her without telling her.
Sure enough, a few guards have already reached for their swords in protection of their prince returned home.
“I will have my way with you later,” she says through her teeth.
“I’m counting on it.” I wink.
She lets out a very unladylike huff of annoyance that would have the Forest Court falling over themselves. Exactly why I like this stubborn, wild woman before me. Even her hair is defiant and curling around her face, framing those perfectly pouting lips. Full and soft and—
“Are you going to show me where we are staying, or do I have to find it myself?”
“Right this way.” I offer an arm.
She slaps it away but follows me as we traverse through the hauntingly familiar halls of the sky palace. Ornate wooden carvings decorate the curving halls, lit by a well placed sky light where the canopy breaks. Sunlight pointed ever so artfully at the various portraits of old battles carved into the wood. The Elf Wars, told over and over again in different shapes and sizes. The path curves with the natural bend of the tree as my feet travel along the familiar halls. I don’t have to look to know that the atrium off to my right is where my father makes his most important speeches. That the bridge we are about to cross not only leads to the royal quarters, but effectively acts as a moat, lifting up at night in various places across these suites so that enemies cannot intrude.
Or so we cannot escape.
My childhood felt like more of the latter.
We cross a few more bridges suspended by ropes until we reach the cluster of treehouses I used to call home. I pull aside the vines draping over the entrance. “After you.”
Ramona squints at me, then at the guards behind us.
“They will come no further,” I say, slightly louder so that there is no mistaking the commanding undertone in my voice. A prince’s voice.
The two guards nod and turn, disappearing across the bridge.
The moment the vines fall shut, Ramona rounds on me for the second time.
I let her punch land squarely on my chest, knowing full well that I could have blocked it.
“How could you lie to me?” She pushes me, and I retreat a step. “We are friends, Leaf.” Her palms hit my chest with another stinging slap. “This seems like a pretty big life detail to leave out of our whole”—slap—“fucking”—slap—“friendship!”
She pushes me a few more times until we are up against the wall. Both of us are breathing heavily, though she is blinking rapidly at the moisture welling in those sweet, spring eyes.
Ramona pounds my chest, and I would trade my heartbeat for this new rhythm if it meant her touching me. Her forgiveness.
Once her torrent of blows slow from harsh to something that feels like defeat, I wrap my arms around her, caging her in my arms with a pressure that she could easily break, should she want to.
She doesn’t break, instead slumping in my arms, shaking with fury turned sadness. I hate that I’m the cause of her sorrow.
“I’m sorry.” Two words that are wholly insufficient for this moment, but it’s all I can offer. I run my hand along her spine, tracing the curve up into the base of her neck, where I cradle her head to my chest.
“I h-hate you.”
“I know.”
“How can I forgive you for this? I th-thought we were c-closer than this.”
“We are.”
“Fuck you.”
“Counting on it.”
She breaks away from our embrace at that last comment and swears some more. The space where she once was stretches like a void, shattering my soul just a fraction.
“Let me show you to your room. I’ll give you… space. Won’t bother you again until dinner. Promise.” I lead her into a shared living space. Everything is just where I left it. The couch along the wall, the beads hanging along the balcony open to the forest beyond, and even the mugs hanging near the small kitchenette I had installed are polished like years didn’t pass with me trading my world for the human one.
