Folly yanks his hands free to cover Yarrow’s mouth, bloodstains and all. “Gods, Yarrow! We just got out of a fucking curse! Don’t you dare jump straight into a life debt!”
However fae handle life debts, it can’t be good.
Yarrow’s eyes crinkle. Then he doubles over in joyous laughter. Like light and magic, it fills the Cerulean Glade. Folly’s heart soars on the billowing sound. He gasps out half a sob, before he’s laughing too.
Quiet only returns when Yarrow wraps him in a hug. Folly clings, closing his eyes. Hard to believe he once tried running away from Yarrow. Right now, Folly never wants to let go.
“Can we pretend we’re still cursed?” Folly mumbles against Yarrow’s chest. “Just for a bit, so I can get used to this.”
Yarrow nuzzles Folly’s hair. “I’ll take any excuse to hold you, little human.”
“Good. I’ll start thinking of more excuses.” But even in this moment of comfort, Folly can’t help but wonder. “What happens next?”
“Next, we get you cleaned up.” The edge of Yarrow’s voice sharpens. “Then I have an interesting report to give the summer queen.”
Chapter 26
Yarrow
The lights swimming beneath the glass floor seem brighter today. Any of them could be Yarrow’s memory, plucked in two parts by the summer queen. The original memory and the taking of it.
Yarrow hasn’t missed the memory in the past ten years. He isn’t sure he wants it back.
“Remind me of the protocol,” Folly says, nervous at Yarrow’s elbow. He’s adorable as always in his starry robe. Thankfully Hummingbird makes her wares sturdy. Yarrow was able to scrub most of the blood out.
“We walk in, stop at the bridge, and bow,” Yarrow repeats. “You can do this.”
No need to warn Folly about watching his words. He comes from a world just as treacherous as this one, and Yarrow trusts Folly can handle himself. If Folly’s nervous anyway, Yarrow’s happy to repeat the instructions as many times as necessary.
They don’t have long to wait before their escort appears.
“Welcome back, Yarrow and the Great Folarius,” Nevander says. “I’m pleased to see your safe return.”
High fae can’t lie, so that must be the truth. Maybe Nevander’s face is just stuck in that expressionless mask. He should see the apothecary about that.
Folly shifts his weight awkwardly. “Um, you can just call me Folly. Anyway, Yarrow’s quest is complete, so we’d like to speak to the queen now.”
Nevander glances at Yarrow, who confirms, “Moriath is dead.”
That part’s true. Folly’s words were technically a lie—because Yarrow didn’t complete his quest. Folly killed Moriath instead. Yarrow puts his odds at getting that past Haelwen very, very low.
“Then your inconvenient curse is broken,” Nevander says. “Yarrow may enter, but the Great Folly must wait here.”
“Not fucking happening,” Yarrow snaps.
Folly steps forward, leaving a soothing hand on Yarrow’s arm. “I humbly propose that Her Majesty will want to speak with me if you tell her this.” Folly’s chin lifts, all trace of nervousness gone. “I know why she gave me this eye.”
Yarrow and Nevander both freeze, stunned.
“I believe she will,” Nevander says, recovering his composure. “Follow me.”
Past the entry veil, the throne room is brilliant. Morning cascades through the glass above, illuminating the goldwood bridge. The rippling moat. The queen crowned in flowers, her hair as blue as the cloudless sky.
A quiet melancholy softens Yarrow’s thoughts. Elladar’s beauty rings hollow beneath his steps. This place was never meant for him.
No, more precisely, Yarrow was never meant for Elladar. Why should he strive to join a court that doesn’t want him?
Yarrow and Folly stop at the bridge to bow, while Nevander crosses to the throne. He murmurs something in Haelwen’s ear. From across the bridge, Yarrow doesn’t see her expressionchange. But when Nevander steps aside, Haelwen gestures. All other guards disperse into the distant trees.
