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“If they have an issue with you, that’s their problem. Haters gonna hate. Just ignore them.”
His shoulders shake, and I’d swear he’s trying not to laugh. “It is refreshing to be around someone who treats me as…well, not a prince. Most come with expectations, demands, and favors waiting on the tip of their tongues.”
A heaviness settles against my ribs. Sigurd said something similar. None of these fae royals seem to have an easy time of it, whatever their wealth and power.
“Well, I have no demands, only thanks for your help. Without you”—I shake my head—“I wouldn’t have made it through that maze. There’s no way.”
“Oh, I don’t know.” A grin twitches at the corner of his lips. “Your other companion is quite capable.”
Speaking of…
I scan the crowd, but there’s no sign of Galen anywhere. He’s probably lost somewhere in the mass of fae. As a finalist, he’ll have to be here somewhere, unless he’s running late.
“You asked what I would have wished for,” Lysandir says.
My cheeks flush as I glance back at him. His former grin has turned sad and lingers on his downturned face.
“You don’t have to tell me.” I clasp my hands in front of me, twisting them together as they refuse to be still. “I shouldn’t have asked.”
“Strangely, I want to tell you.” His brows wrinkle. “I’m not sure why. I suppose the future will tell us.”
Such a strange thing to say. I lean on the railing as he continues.
“I see things sometimes,” he says. “Not what everyone can see but likely futures.”
“The future.” I gasp and stand a little straighter, suddenly seeing him in an entirely new light. The first time we met properly, his eyes had gone strange, milky and distant.
“It’s not a guarantee of what will happen, not always.”
“That day after the cadmum game…” I start, but he doesn’t hear me, or if he does, he ignores it.
“I came here because I saw something I wish to change. I’d—” His fist tightens until his knuckles go white, and a dim glow seeps from his eyes. “I’d do just about anything to change it.”
A bad future. For him? Or someone he loves? I rub my wrist. My wish never seemed selfish. Gran needs me. So does Tabitha. But they’ve been without me for days already. Could they go longer?
“What if…” I say. “If I win—”
Lysandir lays a hand on my shoulder, the touch just light enough to turn me from my thoughts. “I won’t take your wish, Wren. You’re brave. Courageous. And you’ve risked much. Whatever you wish for, it must be dear to you.”
“Still—”
He shakes his head. “I’m not even sure my wish could be granted, and I won’t waste yours, should you win, on a maybe. Even the cauldron has its limits, but I had to try.” His grip tightens before falling away. “And I hope you win. If it can’t be me, I want it to be you.”
Something cracks within me, and before I can stop myself, I wrap my arms around him and bury my head against his chest. His warmth envelopes me, comforting and safe, but so different than Sigurd. I could linger here all day, but the desire to brush my lips against his is curiously absent. It’s not lust or desire I feel for him. Rather, the first bloom of a friendship that could be so much more if we had time. He grazes my shoulders, my back, in a tentative return of my affection. Formal. Respectful. The exact opposite of me practically leaping on him. I pull away, an apology on the tip of my tongue, but the sight of his smile silences it.
“You were right about that day after the second game.” He takes my hand in his, his thumb rubbing across my knuckles. “I had a glimpse of the future. Your future.”
I gasp and almost jerk away, but he holds me tight.My future. The beat of my pulse hammers against my ribs. “What did you see?”
“The future is mine to see, not to tell.” He takes my hand and raises it to his lips. The chaste kiss is lost amid my racing thoughts. “I’ll say only this—please remember that you have a friend in the Court of Fire, Queen of Air.”
Lysandir drops my hand and bows his head, but I hardly register it over the echo of his words screaming through my mind.
Queen of Air.
Chapter 29
IgapeatLysandirand his sudden revelation. “But I’m not—”
