Page 53 of My Faire Lady

“You can.” He’s quiet for a moment, then, “Have you ever considered it’s something she might want?”

I scoff. “No one would want this.”

He deflates, and his gaze lowers to the hay scattered about the stable floor.

My chest pinches, and I step closer. “No. I didn’t mean it like that. I love being here, it’s just that⁠—”

“It’s okay.” He hangs his final plate of armor and shuts the closet. “We all see it. We know you’re miserable, and if given the chance, you’d leave and never look back.”

I hold out my arm to stop him, but he weaves around me and heads toward the stable doors. A chasm spreads wide in my chest. I can’t deny his words, and no matter how hard I try to put on a brave face, it clearly isn’t enough.

“I could never leave,” I whisper.

He stops in the doorway and leans a hand against the frame, turning his head enough to address me without looking my way. “Could and would are different things, Scarlet.” He drops his hand. “The full moon is tonight, so I’ll see you in the morning.”

My heart sinks into the depths of my stomach as he disappears out the door. Shadow nestles her head against my shoulder.

I drag a hand down her snout. “I know, girl. I wish we could all be free, too.”

Thunder cracks outside. Shadow whinnies and tucks her wings against her torso, exhausted after the final joust. I throw a weighted blanket over her back, and she blows out a puff of air, settling in the hay nest in the corner of her stall.

I didn’t get a chance to see Lottie between jousts, and the second and third performances went off without her rushing onto the field. But each time I fell off the pegasus, I glanced through the slats in my helmet—a small part of me wishing she would.

And a larger part of me regrets abandoning her in the arena. I should have lifted her onto Shadow and delivered her to the base of the stands.

But I couldn’t think straight.

Her lips left a brand on mine—her palm inked against the slope of my jaw. And now, with the storm clouds darkening the sky faster than the sun falling toward the horizon, she’s probably back in the shoppe, drying off before she dives into her piece for the contest.

I step out of the stable and into the pouring rain, following the path to the shoppes. The fountain bubbles in the center of the quad, water flowing over the rim, and the flowers in the window boxes sag under the weight of rainfall.

The bottom half of the shoppe’s Dutch door is shut, but buttery light spills from the top half, pouring onto the small porch. I climb the steps, and my lips tilt at the corners as Lottie’s voice floats out.

My stomach twists, and I hesitate, my fingers hovering over the doorknob.

What do I say? Do I apologize?

I don’t know how to tell her that I’ve replayed it hundreds of times in my mind—that her lips against mine was a balm to my magic, coating my chest in warmth.

How do I tell her that, while refusing to admit anything more?

What if she didn’t feel anything?

I close my hand into a fist and retreat a step.

“Is someone there?” she calls.

She appears in the doorway with soaked curls hanging around her face, trailing down the bare skin of her collarbones. Despite the dreary weather, there’s color to her cheeks, as if she’s spent the day in the sun. Lit from within.

“Hey,” she says.

“Hi,” I say.

She smiles and raises a brow.

I clear my throat. “I wanted to check on you, after⁠—”

Kelsey appears with a bag slung across her shoulders. She offers me a smile before turning to Lottie. “I just got an alert that they’re closing the roads in twenty minutes for flash flooding. Are you ready?”