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Each finger connects to a different part of a fae’s being.
Mind.
Heart.
Body.
Magic.
Soul.
Without even one part, we are nothing.
To kiss another’s fingertips was the equivalent of stroking them intimately on every part of their being—and the palm was to touch them as a whole.
Bringing the hand to the chest was a silent way of claiming the other fae, of telling them that they were yours as long as your heart kept beating.
I knew all of that, because I had remembered it. Because I had used it to keep myself sane when the sexual abuse had started in prison. Because I had never willingly touched any of my abusers, never giving them my fingers. My twenty-one year old self had anchored to the fact that my hands were the only way anyone could feel the entirety of my being, and my abusers never cared about touching my hands.
Yet the dark king had touched one.
Hell, I hadhanded itto him. Stretched it out to him, in a way I’d never done with anyone.
And he had repeated a gesture that he had no idea meant more than the world to me, then called me the Lunar Fae word for moon—Lemay.
To them, the moon waseverything.
The title, paired with the hand-kissing, paired with vomit-cleaning, and the bedroom-sharing…
Fuck.
I closed the bedroom door behind me and shut my eyes tightly, letting out a slow breath.
We were fated mates.
Like it or not, we were permanently connected.
In life, and in death.
I had to keep my guard up, to keep being snarky, and playful when possible, to stop myself from letting him in. He was still the dark king, and I was still just a tortured, dying elemental fae woman without a land to tether myself to.
After letting myself take one last breath in and out, I opened my eyes and took in the bedroom.
It was… not what I expected.
I mean, I didn’t know what I expected. It wasn’t as if all wicked kings lived in evil, dark lairs. But this one definitely didn’t.
Light gray stone walls and floors stretched out wide and bare before me, leaving plenty of space. The far wall was made up of windows, which opened to a gorgeous, dark forest. Small bits of moonlight seeped into the room through the trees, and orbs of what had to be the same dotted the room. The bed was massive, with black sheets and blankets, but had more than its fair share of soft-looking pillows strewn all over the damn thing at random.
There was an open closet built into one of the walls, and inside, I could see black and silver fabric. Silver and white were the colors the rich wore in the Night Court, so it was curious that he paired the gleaming silver with night’s darkest color. Then again, the moon was revered for her light, hence the silver and white. Darkness, in contrast, was just a part of who the night fae were.
Of course, all of the sweaters and dresses that I owned (two of each) were black. I wasn’t about to spend my extra money on clothing when I was going to die in the next few months. Not when there was delicious food, candy, and dessert to eat, along with soup to make and experiences to be had. I was almost thirty years old and had never truly had the chance to live my life, so I had a lot to catch up on before it ended.
My hair was still soaking my sweater, and I was still cold, so I headed into the closet. Of course, men in the night court didn’t really wear shirts, so all I found were pants.
My fingers trailed over the luxurious clothing, and sadness seeped into me. Not for myself, but for the dark king. He lived in this massive castle, all alone. His closet was full of rich fabrics, yet there was no one to see him in them. Of course, he probably had people outside—in the town. But they despised him. The whole court did, didn’t it? He was the evil king; the wicked brother.
But surely even the worst people wanted—or needed—someone to love them.
