Page 55 of My Fae Lady

“The other solution. You said there were two.”

I looked up from the muscles I was studying. Light take me, in my distraction I had said there were two solutions. Now I had to share the second one. “Well, you see, I’ve been thinking . . .”

“A frightening proposition.”

I pulled away, my hands landing on my hips. “Excuse me? I’m not some fool with hare-brained ideas!”

Sylvan twisted around on his stool. He took in my posture and cocked his head to the side. “I know. You are frighteningly brilliant.”

My hands slipped loose. “Oh.” I smiled. Maybe, maybe we could manage this. “Well, I’ve been thinking that maybe instead of one of us ceding to the other, we could simply . . . cohabitate? If we aren’t countermanding each other’s orders, it really won’t be that much different. Not perfect, but good enough?”

“Is that how you’d describe the past few days? I, for one, would prefer not to have my home locking me in rooms or tossing me in lakes.”

I licked my lips. “That has more to do with House’s opinions than the warring magic of our claims. Given how it has been behaving, it might very well continue playing such tricks on you if you force me out, even if you would have the ability to intercede each time. But you’ll notice it has been behaving today.”

“And how long will that last?”

I studied the floor, the planks that made it up, the patterns of whorls unique to each one. “We know what House wants. If we don’t deny it, it won’t act up.”

Twenty-One

Sylvan

⊱❀⊰

When I didn’t respond, Giselle continued avoiding my gaze which made her difficult to read. I took her chin in my hand and brought her colorful eyes up to mine. They were a sad muddy brown. A deeper, darker shade than the anxious amber she showcased in Isthmuston when our home was on the line.

“Would it really be so terrible?” she whispered, and her lip trembled.

Her sadness was a blade plunged into my chest. It was so sudden and unexpected, it stole my next breath. I placed a hand over my heart, and my claws elongated, pricking at my flesh.

“I’ve wounded you,” the words came out in a rumble, but all my anger was aimed squarely at myself.

How had I gone and messed this all up so badly that I’d managed to hurt her and myself all at the same time?

She put her back to me, and that was worse. “I don’t blame you for not wanting to share your home with me . . . Truth be told, I’m so difficult to live with, my own father rarely visits. You said it yourself. I don’t belong with other people, and you were right on the mark.”

“Giselle—”

“No, don’t!” She pulled away from me when I reached for her again. “I’ve gone foolishly maudlin. Just give me a moment to put myself back together, and then we can discuss this further like two rational beings. It’s just been a very, very long few days . . .”

But I wasn’t any more rational than she was. Not about her. I opened my mouth, hoping healing words would come to my tongue, but I lacked the wisdom and practice for such a thing. I’d had little opportunity to care for others. So much of my focus these last few centuries was consumed by survival and enchanted sleep to escape the pain of my wounds.

And revenge.

But somewhere along the way, that urge had died a slow, painful death. I no longer wanted to hurt the Bartons because I didn’t want to hurt this Barton.

I’d asked her to be gentle with me when we made love, but there’d been nothing gentle about our time in bed. We came together like fae of the forest, too hungry for each other for patience or fragility.

It wasn’t with my person I’d needed her to be delicate. It was with my heart. I didn’t know how to entrust a piece of me to Giselle because I didn’t know how to do that with anyone, and although the desire blooming between us had been evident, something deeper had come as a frightening surprise.

I retrieved the feather boutonniere from my pocket, and I balanced it in my palm, a token of her profound kindness.

I don’t know how long I stood there staring at it, lost in thought. All I knew was that suddenly Giselle was beside me, her sweet, light touch warming my arm.

“You kept it,” she said softly. Her eyes were puffy.

I fingered the inky black barbs. “I did.”