James nodded, desperately pressing his hand to Andrew’s chest in a vain attempt to stem the bleeding. “Yes, I’ll tell her you love her. I swear.”
“Love her, James,” Andrew repeated, stressing the first word.
James could barely speak past the awful constriction in his throat. “Of course. You have my word.”
“James?” Kitty’s voice, soft with concern, pulled him back from the nightmare. “Are you all right?”
Soothing green forest replaced dry, dusty battlefield in his mind. The dear face of his best friend was replaced by another face, equally dear.
James blinked. Now, as he looked at Kitty, Andrew’s last words seemed to take on an entirely different meaning.
He’d always thought he’d been meant to tell Kitty that Andrew loved her. The two siblings had always been close. With only a year between their births, they’d been more like twins than anything else. Constant companions and playmates.
But perhaps that hadn’t been what Andrew had been trying to say. What if he’d been trying to imply, to order, that James himself should love her?
Or had he meant that James already loved her?
James blinked again, stunned by this new revelation. Had Andrew suspected what he’d tried so hard to hide?
The inescapable truth poured over him in a rush. Andrew hadn’t been asking James to love his sister. He’d been giving them his blessing. He’d been urging James to admit what had, apparently, been blindingly obvious to Andrew the entire time: James loved Kitty.
The utter rightness of it settled about him like a warm cloak on a winter’s day. As if the world, so long off kilter, had suddenly clicked back into its correct place.
Kitty was still staring at him, her eyes wide with concern. James shook his head to dispel the last remnants of his memory and sent her a reassuring smile.
“Yes, I’m fine. Really.”
“Is it your wound?” she asked softly. Her gaze flicked to his side.
“No. It’s not that.”
His voice came out gruffer than he intended, reflecting his frustration at himself. He needed to tell her about the tower, but he couldn’t find the words to begin.
Kitty, unfortunately, took his brusque tone as a dismissal. Her expression fell, and she turned back along the path.
James could have kicked himself.
“Still watching the mortals?” Oberon chuckled.
“I told you they’d make a mess of it.” Titania glared down the path, to where the would-be lovers straggled. “Even with my help, they’re still at odds.”
Oberon sent her an amused glance. “I thought you weren’t going to meddle. What have you been doing?”
Titania gave a sniff. “Oh, hardly anything. I made her sneeze, to make them meet. And I asked the bees not to interrupt them. But that’s all, I promise.”
“Leave them alone. They don’t need your dubious help.”
“But it’s so frustrating!” She gave a disgusted shake of her head. “Did you see that yellow-haired boy? She kissed him this morning, in the maze! One of my handmaidens saw them.” She pointed at Kitty. “She thinks this dark one doesn’t want her, and the fair one does, but she’s only half right!”
Fiery tresses bounced around her face in indignation. “That blond popinjay only sees the surface; her beauty, not her strength. His words are as empty as his head.”
Oberon laughed at her righteous ire. “What was it the human playwright said? “ . . . and yet, to say the truth, reason and love keep little company together now-a-days.”
Titania glared at him. “Between the two of them, there’s no contest. It’s like a drop of attraction compared to an ocean of love.”
Oberon frowned down at James. “So why doesn’t this one just declare himself?”
“He hasn’t had the chance. The brainless one hasn’t left her alone.” Titania’s wide mouth curled as inspiration struck. “What they really need is a little time alone . . .”
