Page 63 of My Fae Lady

“It is goodbye for now. And yes. I have never wanted House caged. Sylvan and I will be happy here. We already are.”

“You’ll write to me? Let me know that you continue to be happy, or call on me if that changes?”

“It won’t change. But yes, I’ll write to you.” I squared my shoulders. “But you must first write to me, informing me of where you are.”

He nodded but didn’t promise anything. “I love you, Giselle.”

“I love you, too, Papa.”

He turned and walked away, the trees swallowing him almost immediately. Instead of staring into the shifting shadows, hoping to catch one last glimpse of him, I made myself shut the door. I stood in the hall for several heartbeats, waiting.

But the loneliness that always descended when my Father left me behind for one of his adventures didn’t materialize. For the first time he had asked me to go with him, but the invitation was no longer what I wanted.

Everything I wanted was here.

I swung open the nearest door, knowing exactly what I’d find on the other side. Not an empty forest, but a warm sitting room and my husband waiting for me with open arms.

Sylvan hugged me tight, but didn’t ask if I was all right. I wasn’t sure if my eyes were burgundy with joy or lavender with love at that particular moment, but either way they told him the truth: I was exactly where I wanted to be.

Epilogue

⊱❀⊰

Tea at Rook Manor was a unique experience. There was the obvious: having a wild magic sentience see to our every need. But that wasn’t what stood out the most to me. Nor was it the sheer number of sweets on the tea tray—more than I could eat in a week, though my dearest friend Giselle might polish them all off in a single sitting.

No, the detail that kept taking me by surprise—not just at tea, but in every room and during every activity—was how comfortable I was. Not only because there was no one staring at my wings, then whispering at a volume far too loud for keeping secrets from a fae about how unfortunate I was.

I had grown inured to the gossip. For the most part.

But I never ceased to notice the way humans and Seelie refused to accommodate the differences among the Unseelie. At Rook Manor, that wasn’t an issue. Every room had multiple chairs that suited winged beings. My guest suite had a balcony without a railing that I could use to launch into the sky. There had even been a dressing gown laid out in my room with the most ingenious design I had yet seen to accommodate my wings without making dressing a chore.

I leaned forward on the padded stool that somehow didn’t look out of place next to the settee where my friend perched and helped myself to a single slice of lemon cake. I preferred the citrus flavor to the chocolate Giselle devoured by the pound.

“Are you sure you don’t want to extend your visit?” Giselle asked me. “Now that you are here, your brother can hardly force you to return, as that would require him coming into Faerie himself.”

“I know I’ve been complaining far too much—”

“It isn’t too much! Your complaints are completely valid and deserve to be voiced.”

“Thank you, Giselle. I knew you’d understand, which is probably why I haven’t been able to stop the torrent of gripes. But it isn’t actually all that bad. Would it be better if I could have tea with you every afternoon? Of course, but I’m not going to hide away in Faerie and outstay my welcome in your home to escape the minor inconveniences of being an Unseelie gentlewoman in Alidran society.” I raised a brow. “And don’t tell me I could never outstay my welcome—I know how to interpret the color changes in your eyes, and I know for a fact that you and your husband enjoy your solitude.”

Giselle’s shoulders rolled back, and she met my gaze straight on, her eyes a determined indigo. “You are always welcome in our home.”

I set the plate of half-eaten cake down and took Giselle’s hand in mine. “It means more than I can say to know you mean that, Giselle. But I’m still not going to plop myself in the middle of your wedded bliss. You might not tire of me, but your husband was already grumbling about me stealing you every afternoon for tea.”

“Sylvan loves to grumble. He doesn’t mean anything by it. He understands perfectly well why I declared that tea time would be just for us ladies.”

“Understanding doesn’t mean accepting,” I pointed out.

Before Giselle could retort, a loud pounding came on the door to the parlor.

“Giselle, open up. I think it’s time!”

I snickered. “You were saying?”

My friend’s eyes had gone a bright copper in excitement. “If we don’t let him in, he’ll try to tear the door from the frame. House won’t let him succeed, but if it is finally time, Sylvan won’t give up.”

“Time for what?”