“Youthink? Or you know? What does he want? Do you spend all night talking, or—” E cuts himself off again. “Never mind. I’m so fucking jealous of him,” he admits on a growl.
“He’s jealous of you, too.” A small smile curls my lips. “But I think he’s you because he calls me little fox, and with him, I feel safe.”
His voice drops an octave. “Keep saying things like that.”
“I thought I was reliving parts of my past, but if I’m right, it means I might have met you as a kid and forgotten about it. This man with my mother has your hair. And your wings.” My eyes dart down. “So unless you’ve got a twin…”
It’s entirely possible E knew my mother. Maybe he didn’t sell her out to the Reds. Maybe they were in love, and he died before she did.
What a scary thought.
“It’s not me.” His tone hardens, like he’s certain of that much.“You’re not old enough for me to have known you before I died. I haunted Mabel through the eighties, remember?”
I nod emphatically, grateful for the lifeline. “By the Dark One, I forgot! You were already dead when I was a child.”
I exhale in relief, feeling lighter than I have in a long time.
“Tell me more about him,” he presses on.
The implication that someone else has become my dream lover clearly doesn’t sit any better with him, but I can’t stop smiling.
“After I get these weird visions of my past, I end up on this cloudy, beautiful cliff where he makes love to me…” Heat crawls up my neck. “I can never see his face clearly in either scenario. Ugh, it’s so confusing.”
“Why didn’t you tell me about him before?” he asks, a hint of disappointment sharpening his tone.
I sit on the twin bed, and he sits beside me, the straw-stuffed mattress rustling softly beneath our combined weight.
“The dreams and visions have become more vivid over the last couple of nights. And the venom shook something loose in my head.” I hesitate, caressing the thin duvet cover, surprised to find it soft and pliable.
“I didn’t like how that dark Fae was looking at you, earlier. Luther, was it?” he asks, as though identifying the man in my dreams comes second to getting me out of harm’s way. “You’re still weak from the bite. What if the Lord of the Tides turns out to be a world-class fucker? There’s still time to change your mind about going with them tomorrow.”
He obviously hates the idea of me joining the Tidecallers in an attack, but we didn’t come to Faerie to hide.
I grip the edge of the mattress with both hands. “Luther said a group of witches was in imminent danger. Nick won’t be convinced to stay out of it, and if he’s going, I’m going with him.”
“What happened with your mother?” E asks softly. “Why is Nick holding something over you? Do you feel responsible for her death?”
“Oh, no.” I chew on my bottom lip. “My mother was killed in a raid planned by the Reds. There wasn’t anything we could do. Nick… Nick was talking about Riley.”
I grimace just saying the name.
“Was Riley your boyfriend?” E asks. “When you told me about stopping painting and not finishing the King of Wands, I got the sense you might have been…thwarted in love.”
My brows rise. “Oh, I was betrayed, alright, but not by a man.”
I stare through the window, where night is settling over the rebel camp and oil lamps flicker to life between the tents.
“Riley was a girl I met at university. Keep in mind, Nick begrudged me for even going. He was obsessed with traveling the world. He said he wanted to save witches, but really, he was running away from Mabel, so he could find our mother’s killer without her getting involved.”
My eyes dart to the ceiling, and I clear my throat. “Anyway, he bolted right after high school, and that really gutted me. I met Riley at orientation. We were two eighteen-year-olds fresh out of secondary school, suddenly attending this illustrious institution. She was an orphan, too, and she told me she’d been living alone since she was sixteen because her stepfather had abused her.”
A bitter laugh escapes me.
“She twisted her words carefully, feeding me that tragic backstory little by little, just enough to gain my trust. She made me work for it, too, so I never suspected anything. She presented herself as someone who worked better alone, someone guarded and difficult to get close to.”
My throat bobs.
“She made it feel like I was the one doing the pushing. Like I was the one choosing her.”
