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They tug at me, begging me to wrap my arms around his neck and press my lips to his once more. His cheeks flush again, painting him much younger than his many fae years. Many more than I can comfortably think about.
“Well, shall we?” He partially releases me to gesture to the house. Such a fascinating building would have sucked me in with oohs and ahhs in a heartbeat back home. But here, it can’t hold a candle in mystery or majesty to the man whose palm still lingers at my back.
“Just tell me one thing,” I say. “Is this some grand plan to distract me from the competition and ensure I fail or drop out?” Honestly, he’s doing a fabulous job of it at the moment.
“No. I won’t ask you to quit again. It’s your life, your choice. I hate to see you in danger. It eats at me in a way you cannot know.” His voice rises, his hand tightens on my back. “But I won’t cage you. Not like my—” He bites off his words, looking away.
“Like your father?”
His eyes fly wide. “How do you—”
“You mentioned him, and I’ve heard that he was not…well, maybe not the best of men.”
“To some people. It’s ironic, really. Some people despise me for being too much like him and others for being too different. He lusted for power. Ruled by fear. But enough of that.” His fingers twine through mine in a way that sets every nerve ending alight.
The house is the opposite of his quarters in the castle.
The rooms are smaller—still large by my standards—with normal wooden roofs, but it’s the furnishings that mark the main difference. Instead of being sparse and formal, these ooze life and memories from every crack in the leather and scrape on wood. This place is lived in, loved, comfortable. Him.
The dark wood, the masculine furnishings, and even the paintings of great battles and winged birds speak of the man who has barely said a word since we entered, just let me look in wonder.
“I grew up here,” he says at last.
“Not in the castle?”
“No. After I was born, my father sent me away. He had the heir he needed to secure his legacy, but that’s all I was to him. He had no interest in raising or training me. That, he left to my tutors.”
“And your mother?”
His hand tightens on mine ever so slightly. “I never really knew her. My father took human women to his bed for the power they offered, as many as he could get his hands on. Some, he—” His voice catches. “Some even bound to him so they couldn't leave.”
A hard knot lodges itself in my throat. A horrible man indeed. No wonder he hates the bond he forced on me, not that it stopped him. His father wanted power. Sigurd wanted…a ghost. But was that truly all? He’d mentioned the power humans give the fae before, and Uncle Mark told me even more.
Many ages ago, our worlds entwined with one another, and the fae became dependent on our human spirits. Without human presence, fae magic fades, and their land dies. A king, as the beating heart of his court’s power, affects them all. If he takes a human mate, his power—all their power—grows. Yet, Sigurd hasn’t done so, despite the power it would offer. Having other humans in their territory kept it vibrant. Even Uncle Mark’s presence had been instrumental in strengthening the court—one reason many objected to his wish to become fae. It caused some dissention in the nobility trying to climb the ladder of power. But Hawke, and thus Sigurd as his king, was willing to relinquish that power for love.
“It’s one reason I lost Evelyn,” he says, a sad twist to his lips. “I—” He glances at me. “You probably don’t want to hear this.”
“I want to know.” Some part of me needs to. I lay my hand on his arm. “Please.”
Sigurd nods before swallowing thickly. “I met her when she was escaping the Unseelie.”
My eyes grow wide. Of all the things I expected, that wasn’t it.
“It was years ago. They tried capturing humans to revive their magic, but the effects were minimal without a monarch to sustain their land. She was one of the last ones they took before the last of their doors to your world closed as a result of their fading magic—or so we believe. Anyhow, they…did not treat her well.”
The look in his eyes speaks to so many horrors he won’t put words to, and for once, I’m glad. My chest grows tight at the possibilities, but something tells me the truth could be even worse.
“She managed to flee, and I found her while on patrol. She was scared and hurt, running for her life.”
Just like I was the night he found me in the woods. No wonder he reacted as he did. Something in me softens at the comment. Perhaps, even then, he truly was just trying to help me.
“I protected her and helped her to come back to herself, and though I tried to keep her presence a secret from my father, eventually he noticed.”
“He didn’t,” I say, suddenly terrified of where the tale may lead.
“No. I was close friends with Lutheon, the king of the Court of the Forest at the time. He was new to his reign, and humans were few in the forest. I asked him to take her in and keep her safe. I just never expected…”
He looks away. But I know where this part goes. She fell in love with Lutheon and gave him a son.
