He doesn’t look shocked. Or angry that I lied. He just looks like Lark. Open, gentle, and so beautiful I suddenly want to cry.
“You’re hiding from them,” he breathes.
I pause. Another nod.
He considers, then asks, “Do you want to go back?”
“I can’t. I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to return. Truthfully, I’m not sure I want to. They’re not who I thought they were.”
A beat passes. Then Lark lifts the blanket to open his arms in invitation. “Will you come over here?”
My heart thumps. “Why?”
“Why do you think, my ridiculous fiancée?” His grin comes with dimples.
I blink. “You want to practice kissing againnow?”
A low chuckle. “I wouldn’t say no, but that wasn’t what I meant. You’re trembling so much, Hugo left the bed feeling seasick.”
A grunt from the floor sounds like confirmation.
“I’m sorry. I’ll stop shaking.”
“Also not what I meant, Val. Your emotions are not a problem to be fixed. You look like you need a hug, that’s all.”
I hesitate. Butstorms, does a hug ever sound wonderful right now.
I slide over, sinking into the warmth of his arms. They wrap me up, a perfect wreath of weighted comfort. With my head on the soft fuzz on his chest, and his hand tracing slow circles on my back, something inside of me crumples.
A whimper of relief escapes my lips. “Why is this so good?”
His soft laugh rumbles against my cheek. “Maybe because you’re the most touch-starved fae I’ve ever met.”
I don’t argue. I just press in closer, letting the panic settle. Letting Lark ease the fear from my limbs, one slow breath at a time.
“I’d be happy to help you fix that,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to my hair, “if you’ll let me.”
I shouldn’t.
I shouldn’t let him get close. I shouldn’t drop my guard. I shouldn’t let my heart yearn for something impossible.
But I think I might.
Chapter 21
Talvie
Opening night of the acting troupe’s play is a tremendous success. Or so Lumi tells me.
Lark and I decided it was best if I avoided the crowds where there might be huntsmen prowling, in case they recognize 'Val' from the capital. I’m just eager to avoid Beron, disguise or not. My heart has barely resumed a normal rhythm, even three days later.
Still, I couldn’t bear to miss the performance after all the work the kids put in, so Lumi and I hatched a plan. She went in my stead, watching from high above the spectators, staying dark against the night sky. I hid at the cottage with my true face visible, but with no one around to see. As soon as the performance ended, Lumi rushed back and now floats above the windowsill in the bedroom, using her reflection magic to replay what she witnessed.
“There was a large crowd,” she comments over the image playing across her glowing surface.
I smile. “I bet half of them showed up just because they’ve met Lark, or he did something for them.” It wouldn’t surprise me to learn he drew the crowd with charm alone.
The play continues, and I don’t need sound. The dialogue is ingrained in me from watching so many rehearsals.
