“Wait. Isn’t he like, thousands of years old?”
“Magnus? Gods no.”
“But you called himold bat.”
“Because he’s two years older than me. I can’t imagine how insufferable he’ll become by the time he’s a thousand—though I won’t be around to see it. Thank goodness, huh?”
I nod. Moth and I have only briefly gone over the specifics of faerie lifespans and we can stay old and hot forever-ish. Vampires seem like they might be even more invulnerable. But what does that mean for someone like Gil?
“We Gillerians have a lifespan closer to a human’s in the peak of health. We make it about one hundred years, sometimes a little older,” he offers, seeming to read my mind. Which isn’t something I think he can do, but nothing would surprise me at this point.
“So, you’re called Gillerians, and your name is Gil?” I ask, hoping it’s not rude. Moth is the prince of the Moth Court and while his name is something I picked for him before thosememories returned, I’m not one to judge something for being on the nose.
“Full name is Gilbert,” he says with a sheepish look. “Family thing. Anyways, one hundred years might not seem like much to a faerie, but I’m more worried about living without my love than dying.” He, wistfully looking out the window toward the sparkling water.
“She’s in the mortal realm?” I ask. I overheard Magnus making some kind of crack during their fight, but it was hard to figure out the meaning without context.
“Marina,” he says through a drawn out sigh. “It’s been so long; I’m not sure she’d even remember me.”
“What’s she like?” I ask, because honestly, Ilovelove. From what I’ve seen of this swamp monster, he deserves happiness.
“She’s like—” His lips turn downward, and he shakes his head. “Well, she was brave, kind,so kind, never thought twice about my scales or—” He ties off my bandage with a bow before patting my arm lightly. As if to tell me I’m good to go.
“We met as children. I thought she was the most beautiful girl…” He shakes his head, placing his webbed hand on his heart. “I don’t know if or when I’ll see her again, how we’d feel about each other. But there’s some kind of love that’ll always be etched right here. She probably wouldn’t even recognize me.”
“I think you’d be hard for a human to forget.”
“Well, then—when I find her, that means I’ll have a chance. Even if it’s just at friendship.”
“Yeah.” I smile, flexing my freshly bandaged arm. “I’ll be rooting for you.”
“And I do appreciate that.” His eyes glimmer for a moment. “Now, ask whatever question is hanging on your lips.”
“You said something about the four sisters?” I ask. “I’ve never heard anyone from the Moth Court talking about worship, but they sounded like … goddesses?”
“The faeries don’t tend to worship much apart from themselves.” He shakes his head. “Magnus included. But it’s a tradition we have in the water. The sisters represent each season; there are festivals, mostly an excuse to see family and eat food.”
“Those are the best kind of holidays.” I smile. “I shouldn’t ask, but you said Magnus was alone a lot growing up. Why?” Knowing what Moth’s told me of his childhood, just because you’re a prince doesn’t mean you have an easy road. But Moth had friends like Ruby, Oak—and romantic flings with almost every person I’ve met here. He may have been lonely, but he wasn’t alone—not all the time, at least. Magnus might be a different story.
“That happens when a kid feels like a spectacle everywhere they go,” Gil answers with a thoughtful hum. “His parents split when he was young. Magnus’s father was the sort who only wanted perfection, you know? They kept him in lessons—by the time we met, he could perform every formal dance, speak multiple languages, and play any instrument you could think of. He was painfully shy, and surrounded by people who never said ‘no.’ Which is why he’s probably drawn to people like you and me. The personality he’s normally showing is just another dance.”
“So, he’s not usually like this?”
“Not always.” Gil rises from the table, walking to a small shelf. He snags a framed photograph. There seems to be a lot of human touches to this place which makes me wonder who they’re for and how they got here.
“A photo from one of our celebrations,” Gil explains with a wistful smile. “We’ve spent a lot of time together. He was the one who consoled me when I had my first heartbreak, and I’m the one who’s been telling him to just be himself; sometimes, I thinkhe’s forgotten how. Things changed when he went to live in his big dark castle. ”
“Burn down the spooky dark castle—got it,” I say, knowing that isn’t the point Gil is trying to make but unable to muster up any more empathy.
“Won’t help much. He’s become more withdrawn since becoming king.” He sets the photo on the table and packs up the first aid kit. “He shows up here when his head gets stuck too far up his ass and I throw him into the water.”
“So that…” I point out the window toward the dock. “Was a normal thing?”
“Mmm,” he hums thoughtfully. “I’d say you got the special edition show, but we spar like brothers when he needs some sense knocked into him. I’ve become some kinda unwilling advisor, and I can’t say I love it—but I dolovehim like family. Now, make his life hell, Heather.”
Wow, wasthata lot of conflicting messages!
“Why don’t I hate him?” I ask. “I keep toeing the line of being mean then helpful. I had this whole silly plan to set him up with someone else, but I should hate him, right? Is this a part of the bargain?”
