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“No, stop—”
“Let me talk.” Graceson held up his hand.
I rolled my eyes, waiting for him to continue. If he wanted to be stubborn about an apology, I could let him do that.
“I’m sorry that you had to witness what you did today. I’m sorry that your entire life has been nothing but bloodshed and heartache. You’re a smart woman and you’re full of empathy. Maybe our world needs more of that. Which is what makes you a good leader.” He let out a slow breath. “Sometimes you have to sacrifice a few for the many. And every single time, it hurts just as bad as it did the first time. If it ever doesn’t plague you to see the loss of even one life, that's when you know you aren’t fit to be their leader anymore.” He paused, his tongue sliding over his lower lip before disappearing again.
“My turn?” I asked.
Graceson cupped his hands together and pushed them into his lap with a nod. His wings dipped at an angle where they were gently curved against the ground. They rolled once behind him, in a similar motion to what it would look like if he rolled his shoulders, leaving a few blades of grass bent under them.
“You were right,” I started, “leaving thatsceneto play out was the right choice. It was right for all these Nymphs who have been given a second chance. I can’t take that away from them for one Fae.”
“Does that mean you accept my apology?”
“Only if you’ll accept mine.”
Graceson smiled. “Done.”
“Done,” I repeat, a slow, timid smile lifting the corners of my cheeks. “You’re a good guy, you know that?”
“Ha,” Graceson sputtered, “I’m the very best sort of guy.”
And that’s where he ruined it. Every time.
I tilted my head so I could spy over his shoulder. Shavarra was laid out on a blanket, staring up at the sky and grinning like a fool. It must’ve been nice to get lost in her thoughts like that, especially when they were clearly good.
“I’m surprised you’re here instead of chit-chatting with Shavarra.”
“I’ve talked to Shavarra a lot today, actually. She has some pretty wonderful advice. Smart gal.” He chewed on his lip.
“I wish she could give me some advice on dealing with her friend.” I sighed, looking off into the dark depths of the woods.
“What friend?”
“Dace,” I mumbled, fiddling with the grass blades around me.
“Oh, lover-boy?” he said in a singsong voice. “Trouble already?”
“No. Yes. It’s complicated.”
Graceson pushed himself closer, pulling his knees up to his chest like me. I was sure dirt was really collecting along those dark scales on his wings now. “I’ve got time.”
“It’s nothing. We’re just different, you know?”
“Different is good. If you were too much alike, you would get bored.”
Off in the distance, wolves called to the moon. Their howls echoed in the breeze that lifted the stray hairs near my face away. Conversations paused as everyone calculated their closeness. A few Nymphs exchanged looks before everyone waved it off and the quiet chatter began again.
I glanced up through the tree limbs, catching spotty images of the crescent moon above. Hazy clouds moved lazily in front, making the night even more gloomy.
“It’s just…Dace is used to getting his way.”
Graceson cocked his head, listening with full interest, the way Daethian had done for me so many times. My heart surged with another sting of grief.
“And you’re used to being controlled?” he tried to finish for me.
“And I’m done with that. I’m done being controlled.” Grass ripped from the earth as I gripped it in my hands roughly.
