Page 68 of Where We Belong

Aiden chuckles and Rhory nudges him with his elbow. “Don’t you start. You’re just as picky as I am.”

Kaed clears his throat from my other side and we all stand as Hunah and Xalan enter the hall, accompanied by two familiar figures. Summer and Mari. Wearing matching orange dresses that glow against their sun-kissed, freckled skin. Summer’s pixie is freshly shaped, while Mari’s dark hair falls even longer than I remember, woven with colourful hair wraps. They bow in unison, bangles clinking.

“We are glad to see you,” Summer says with a bright smile and a wink. “Even if you arrived unannounced and gatecrashed our meeting.”

“I’m sure you’re starving. Let us eat,” Hunah says, clapping her small hands together and shooting her a warning look. Dishes stream from the kitchens onto the table, buffet style, and my place setting lands in front of me. The plate is tiny. The cutlery too. And all the food is cut up into chunks, the way you’d prepare it for a toddler. Immediately, we try to pace ourselves, determined not to look feral, but my portion of rice already fills the entire plate to the edges. Kaed murmurs something discreetly to a passing server and moments later, several more empty little plates appear in front of each of us. Cook swirls his little bowl around his nose and takes an exaggerated sniff of the vegetables. Then, he dips his pinky delicately into some gravy and dabs it onto his tongue, smacking his lips together before shrugging.

“I trust your room is to your liking?” Hunah addresses the whole table, though her gaze is firmly fixed on me. I nod in what I’m sure is a deeply ungracious manner, halfway through shoveling pasta into my mouth with a minuscule fork that barely manages to carry one piece at a time. Kaed, who’s watching me with an affectionate grin, bites into a piece of chopped potato. The mini fork looks ridiculous in his huge hand. It’s barely the size of one of his fingers.

“Good,” Hunah says. “I can only assume you are here for the ritual information, correct?”

“Yeah,” I reply, swallowing something that looks like a miniature tomato whole.

“Wonderful. As promised, all information is at your disposal in the grand library.”

The library? Now, I’m trying to be diplomatic, like Aiden and Kaed. But I’m tired. As much as I’ve rested, I’m still exhausted. And to be honest, I’m still scared. I need the plaster ripped off. Am I going to bloody die or not?

“Can’t you just… tell us?”

Xalan chuckles softly. “Half of the knowledge is in the searching.”

Something dormant flares in my chest and I set my fork down carefully. “I’ve done the searching,” I say. “That’s why I’m here. I didn’t come to plow through books. I came to be told what to do to free you. Us. And how to survive whatever is required of me.”

“I think you’ll find—” Hunah begins, but irritation is stirring up the old Ashley.

“I finally worked up the courage to come here, through your death forest and your two ridiculous trials, one of which burned me and Aiden—”

“Two?” Xalan repeats, the amusement dropping from his face. “There was only one, as you were not expected. One which you failed, might I add.”

“No, there were two,” I say firmly. “First, the puddle of choice. And then the fight.”

“Fight?” Xalan repeats slowly, turning sharply to his sister, then to Kaed. “What are you talking about?”

“Forty-nine fae.” Kaed eyes Summer and Mari, who whisper urgently to each other at the far end of the table.

“Impossible. Our trials are not to test physical strength.” Hunah clicks her little fingers at a teenage guard stationed along the wall. She hisses something into his ear before he thumps his fist once against his breastplate and leaves, signaling to several other soldiers as he goes. “We will investigate,” Hunah continues smoothly. “Nonetheless, let us eat and talk more once there is more context. Context is key.”

At that, three words come to mind. Words I never thought I’d ever say. Aiden is right. Something is off.

Chapter 63

Ashley

The strength and might of the Holy One,

may not take away the pain,

I’m spending the night in Kaed’s bed. Cook disappeared after dinner to compliment the chef, much to Eira and Aiden’s surprise, and judging by the relentless creaking coming through the wall, they clearly ended up liking each other. A lot. To escape, I went to Eira’s room first, but I heard Aiden’s voice behind the door, so I quietly backed away, and somehow, I ended up here. With Kaed. It’s not that he’s my last choice. He’s my first. That’s the problem. The butterflies are too much. The electric anticipation. The way every small touch feels like it means something more than a bond halfway in place. The way my thoughts keep drifting somewhere forbidden, imagining hands and lips and tangled sheets. I take a breath. Focus, Ashley. You are here to sleep and sleep only. Unfortunately. Because I really like to have fun. To flirt and tease, play hard to get.

Normally, I’d wear something scandalous and stretch out on the bed like a sunbathing cat, pretending I don’t know I’m sticking my ass out. And that’s because the men I sleep with don’t matter to me. Who gives a fuck how they feel. I have no interest in their lives, their thoughts, even Raph. It’s always been about what he can do for me, what he can give me. But with Kaed, it’s different. The fact that his body only works for me makes me not want to play games. Teasing him feels cruel and that’s the last thing I want. I tell myself that sex would complicate everything. That it would blur lines I’m not ready to blur. That I should be sensible. Responsible. All that lasts exactly three seconds, because then he strolls out of his bathroom wearing nothing but loose, white pajama bottoms, his wings smouldering lazily behind him and droplets of water still clinging to his skin. He’s like a sexy, wet, death angel. Damn it.

“Would you prefer to just swap rooms?” He says, inclining his head toward the shared wall.

“Nope,” I reply, flinging open the duvet on his side, probably a little too eagerly, because he chuckles as he climbs in beside me. When he thumps down onto his pillow and turns his back to me, all I can see are smoky wings and slashes of tattoos across his shoulder blades. “Why are you facing that way? How will we talk?” I huff.

“Like this,” he says, projecting his deep, rumbling voice straight into my ear. Goosebumps race across my skin.

“But I can’t do that,” I whisper, poking the middle of his back and something hot races under my skin. He must feel it too, because the hairs on his neck shoot straight up.