Page 70 of My Faire Lady

“Lottie, I’ve had them for nearly three hundred years.” He closes my hands around the box. “I have no use for them anymore. It would be an honor for them to be made into the gown, and frankly, I can read your mind. I know you secretly want them.”

“Well, if you insist.” I smile up at him and hold the box against my chest. “Thank you.”

He peers around my shoulder into the back room, were Scarlet flips yet another page in the spell book. “Scarlet, you’re reading through the books today? On your birthday?”

My brows rise, and something in my chest pinches, twisting. Her birthday, and she didn’t tell me.

Scarlet doesn’t turn around. “What’s there to celebrate if I can’t bring the magic back?”

“If it’s your last birthday, I’d argue it’s the most important one,” Boden says.

The pinch in my chest turns to talons—a fist that wraps around my insides. I move toward her, but my footsteps falter, and I steady myself against the counter. “Last birthday? You didn’t tell me that losing the magic could kill you, too.”

Finally, she turns her chin over her shoulder, only enough for our gazes to lock. A shadow crosses her face, and a frown pulls at her lips. “I’m the least of my worries.”

My heart races, slamming against my ribs so loud I’m certain she can hear. She’s not mine—not even close—but the thought of this strong, beautiful, stubborn woman no longer existing rips a hole straight through me.

She turns around, back to the book, and I look to Boden, raising a brow. There is so little I can do to help Scarlet fix the magic, but there’s one thing I can control. I flood my mind with the idea of my plan, and a smile cracks Boden’s face in two.

“Let’s do it,” he says into my mind.

25

Nesbit ruffles her feathers, basking in the warmth of the library’s hearth. After leaving Lottie at the shoppe, I returned to the library, searching through the books unpermitted to leave this room. I’ve poured over scrolls, faded letters, the undersides of the shelves.

I come up empty every time.

I sigh out a long breath and rub the heel of my palms against my stinging eyes. The sun hangs heavy in the sky, but on the longest day of the year, it won’t set for at least another hour.

A knock comes from the door.

“Come in,” I say, grabbing the next book from the pile.

Frankie peeks in, tail swinging behind her. She glances over her shoulder and slides the rest of the way into the room, pressing the door shut. “I know you’re busy sulking, but I need you to come with me.”

I shake my head. “Can’t. I have another three books to go through. And I have to finish them tonight so I can spend tomorrow digging through the old storage sheds for a clue of how the hell to fix this.”

She reaches over the table and slams my book shut. I open my mouth, ready to protest, but she gives me a look that promises pain if I speak.

“I fell in love with a human,” she says.

I shift in my seat, unsure where to look as a heavy, palpable weight settles across her shoulders. She never speaks about him—Joel. They were together before I was born, so the vague details of their relationship were only passed to me through Boden, but it was a heartbreak that tore her apart for years.

“Look at me,” she bites, her voice weak and gravelly.

I force my gaze to her and swallow at the tears brimming over her blue eyes. I’ve never seen her cry.

She eases her hold on the table, leaving crescent moons where her nails were. “I fell in love with a human, and it ended with him choosing to have his memories wiped. It was the hardest thing I have ever done.”

“Do you wish you hadn’t?” I whisper. “Fallen in love?”

She shakes her head. “It’s scary, diving into something while knowing it could tarnish with time. But that’s the thing about love. You can’t hold onto it—can’t bottle it up the way you can with magic. You can’t order it around or force it into submission. I’ll never stop loving Joel, and I wasn’t myself for a long time after he left. But, if I were given the choice to go back in time, I wouldn’t change a thing.” She taps a finger against her chest. “I hold him here, Scarlet. And every year, I get to watch him visit the faire. He’s older now, with a wife and about a half dozen grandchildren, and he doesn’t remember a thing about me, but he’s happy.”

“I’m not entirely sure what you want me to get out of this,” I admit, wringing my hands in my lap.

She drags a hand down her face and groans. “I’m telling you to do the scary thing—to give love a chance because your life is too short to be so damn scared of everything. It could end in heartbreak, yes, but that doesn’t mean it’s not worth it.”

“But what if she doesn’t⁠—”