Page 61 of My Fae Lady

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I ran my hand over Sylvan’s back, finding comfort in the warmth of his skin. We’d have to get up soon. Deal with the fact that our home had tried to kill my father. Discuss the future.

He shifted under my hand. “Stupid itching wounds. I’d rather deal with the pain from before you cleaned them than this incessant itching.”

“Itching?” I sat up. House dropped my work apron in my lap, and I pulled it on, though I wore nothing else, and reached past the many magical artifacts stored in the pocket until I found my lens. This time, instead of looking for the Seelie curse, I examined Sylvan’s natural magics.

“It’ll stop eventually. Or I’ll get used to it. Probably.”

Green power flowed through Sylvan’s body much like blood in veins, traveling over every part of him in an endless loop. Near his shoulder blades the power slowed, the streams thickening. It was a pattern I was familiar with.

“You’re healing!”

Rolling over, Sylvan rested a hand on my knee. “I’m not. I lost my chance to break the curse. But it’s all right, Giselle.”

He was wrong, but even so, I couldn’t let that statement stand. “Of course it is not all right if your wings never heal. What do you mean you lost your chance?”

He pushed into a sitting position and worried his lower lip with a fang. “There was a way House could have broken the curse,” he said eventually.

“What do you mean there was?”

“It would require too much power. If I had killed your father, House could have absorbed his energy. Since he also had a claim to the manor, House would have gotten everything. Enough to break the curse.”

My thigh burned. No, something in my apron felt like a brand against my thigh. Frantically, I reached into the pocket and felt around for the source. I didn’t have any tools that burned. What was going on? My fingers brushed over tiny chips of blazing metal.

The cufflinks. I had forgotten about slipping them into my pocket. A fae artifact that had been enchanted to protect the wearer from Unseelie tricks. I pulled them from my apron pocket and tossed them to the floor before they could truly burn me.

I narrowed my eyes. “You don’t need to play an Unseelie trick to make me take your side.” Didn’t Sylvan realize I had already chosen him over my father? That I would always choose him? He didn’t need to lie and tell me he had given up his wings to spare my father.

“I’m not—” his eyes went wide, then became slits. “I’m going to strangle you.”

“Excuse me?”

“Not you. House!”

The pieces fell into place. The trick wasn’t Sylvan’s but House’s. Which meant he had truly believed he was giving up his wings when he had brought my father to me. I threw myself at Sylvan, toppling us both back onto the bed. “You did that for me?”

“Who else would I do it for?”

Had anyone ever done something so selfless for me before? No. Only Sylvan would put my happiness above his own. Which made me extra glad to inform him that he hadn’t actually sacrificed anything.

“House lied to you.”

“Which is why I’m going to figure out a way to strangle it. Then demand it tell me how to heal my wings.”

“Sylvan.” I waited until he stopped glaring at the walls. “You don’t need to ask House anything. The curse is gone. Your wings are healing. That’s why they itch. It must have happened when you regained control of the manor.”

“No, they’ve been itching since before that. Ever since . . .” His lips parted, and he stared at me, something unsettlingly akin to awe in his hazel eyes. “Ever since you cleaned the wounds. Giselle, you broke the curse.”

“But I barely have any fae magic. I’m too weak. How could I break a curse that bound you for centuries?”

He pushed a strand of my hair behind my ear. “Cupcake, there is nothing weak about you. What could be stronger than your heart? Of course the curse dissolved when you saw my wounds and wanted to tend them rather than revel in my pain.”

“I healed you?”

His thumb brushed under my eye. “No tears, love. Even happy ones, please?”

I sniffled. “You can’t ask me to stay dry-eyed when you’re healing. You’re going to have wings, Sylvan. Wings!”