Chapter Twenty-Two Felicity

Chapter Twenty-Two

Felicity

H ER FRIEND HAS MAGIC.

Not like these wicked fae, and not like the mages back home in Elora. Crissa knows the words to murmur when the pain and the darkness and the panic are too much and Jasalyn can't stop shaking. She knows how to make the panic stop, how to protect Jasalyn from her own thoughts.

Her whispered incantations calm Jas. They bring sleep when the terror threatens to destroy her from the inside.

But they leave her friend weak. Make her sleep for hours.

Her friend says magic is life, says she knows how to channel her energy into healing, says it's okay, she doesn't mind, says she needs Jas to hold on.

Can you do that for me? Can you hold on?

Her friend says the sleeping is normal. She says it's because she's a human using fae magic. She says help is coming. She says Jas needs to have faith in the life waiting for her beyond their cell walls. She says Jas will get to go home soon.

But her friend's been sleeping for two days now, and Jas is afraid she won't wake up.

Another day without the Wild Fae king in residence, another day wondering what exactly I think I'm doing.

I can't deny it anymore. I have feelings. Big, complicated, inconvenient feelings.

And to top it all off, the ball is tomorrow night and chatter around the castle is that dozens of the guests are eligible females who would be ideal as the new queen. As someone who's expected to be in attendance and cannot be Misha's queen for dozens of obvious and less obvious reasons, I'm dreading the spectacle of watching females throw themselves at him.

I'm so desperate for some time alone with him before the big night that I find myself breaking early from my research and wandering the castle looking for a sign he's returned from whatever important, kingly errand he's been on today.

I'm headed out to the training yard for the second time since lunch when I run into Tynan.

"Still looking for the king?" he asks.

My cheeks heat. "I'm not trying to bother you. I didn't have anything better to do, so I thought I'd check out here."

I should return to my books, should get back to scouring the Wild Fae maps for remote mountain ranges where the portal could be. But instead, I'm chasing after a male I can't have.

Tynan smiles at me. "You miss him."

I drop my gaze to the floor, worried he can read too much there. "I wondered if he wanted to have dinner with me. It's not a big deal."

"He was called out to another realm unexpectedly this morning."

My head snaps up. Another realm? "Where? Elora?"

"The Wild Fae have close ties with Summerbend, it's another faerie realm." He cocks his head to the side. "I promise you, he's perfectly safe there. He might be more respected in that realm than he is in his own."

"Did he go by goblin?"

"No. Goblins travel between Faerie and Elora because the realms are so closely tied, but even they aren't powerful enough to travel between here and Summerbend."

Which means he traveled through a portal.

"Ah, and there he is now," Tynan says. "See? I told you there was nothing to worry about."

"Who was worried?"

I spin at the sound of Misha's voice. Tynan was right. I did miss him, and I can't deny the feeling of relief that falls over me at the sight of him. His olive skin looks darker this afternoon, like he spent his day out in the sun, and I can't resist skimming my gaze over him, as if I need to make sure he came back unharmed. I find no wounds. Only his broad chest in his lightweight tunic and his muscular thighs visible through his fitted leather riding pants.

"The princess wondered where you'd gone. When I told her you were in another realm, I think she was worried you were in Elora and might find trouble there."

"Is that true?" He steps closer, then seems to remember himself and stops in the middle of the corridor, tucking his hands into his pockets.

Blushing, I meet his gaze. "You didn't tell me you had to go away today."

Tynan clears his throat and steps back. "If you'll excuse me, my king, I need to check on something in the stables."

Misha nods at Tynan before turning his attention back to me. "I was called out at the last minute. I didn't realize you would be looking for me."

"Misha!" a young girl calls, rushing past me and into his arms. She looks to be eight or nine years old and has the same dark hair as Misha, though hers falls in long waves down to the middle of her back.

He picks her up under her arms and spins her around, making her laugh. "I can't believe you know who I am," he says. "It's been so long, I thought you would forget me."

"Never!" she says, laughing.

He turns her toward me and smiles. "Lark, do you remember Princess Jasalyn from Abriella's court?"

"Hi, Lark." I force my hands to relax at my sides. "It's good to see you again."

Misha returns her to the ground, and she purses her lips and cocks her head to the side as if she's trying to figure me out. "Soon you will take your true form."

My heart trips, and I glance to Misha.

He meets my gaze with a haughty arch of a brow. "Less than nine months now. Sooner than ever."

Oh. I clear my throat. "My... You mean on my birthday?" I ask the little girl.

"Lark is a seer," Misha says, and I am a ball of panic, desperately searching for something to say that can keep her from talking, but all words evade me.

Lark frowns. "No. Not in nine months. Much sooner." She reaches for my hand, and it's all I can do to keep myself from snatching it back. Her silver eyes go unfocused and a little distant. "Why are you so afraid? You know this isn't who you really are. Why don't you want—"

"That's enough." Misha pulls her hand off mine. "I'm sorry."

She frowns up at her uncle. "You'll break her heart," she whispers. "Be gentle. She's scared, and she wouldn't do this if she had a choice."

Misha drops to his haunches and gives an indulgent smile to his niece. "I know she's scared. That's why I think you should be gentle about the way you're delivering your information. Remember how we talked about this?" He looks up at me. "Lark's gifts are complicated. She often sees things that don't make sense."

She narrows her eyes at her uncle. "Mother says my gifts are among the most valuable in the entire realm." She turns back to me. "You already know your destiny. Don't fight it. You cannot keep everyone you love safe without sacrificing everything they deem sacred."

My eyes burn and I squeeze them shut. Is that what I've done by refusing to murder Erith the way the oracle showed me I would? Have I been trying to keep Hale safe at the cost of what he holds dear?

Misha clears his throat. "That's enough out of you," he says, but his tone is gentle. "Now, go find your mother and tell her I'll join you in a few minutes. We have a surprise planned for you in town tonight."

She grins. "Okay!" Her dress shoes click against the stone floors as she disappears down the hall.

As he watches her go, I catch sight of something red in his hair.

I step closer and pull it out. "What's this?" It's fluffy, almost like the head of a white dandelion, but it's a vibrant red and not nearly as delicate as it appears. "I've never seen anything like it."

Misha drags a hand through his hair, ruffling it. "The hiluca tree likes to leave its autumn blossoms on anyone who passes."

"Hiluca tree? I've never heard of such a thing." I let the blossom roll in my palm. It's almost sticky.

"That's because it's unique to my territory. There are no hilucas in the other courts, which is why my ancestors declared it our land's sacred tree."

"Why have I never seen one?"

"They only grow in the northern mountains, where the wild horses roam." His smile is tender. "I should take you to see them before winter comes. They are breathtaking this time of year. Especially at sunset."

"I would love that."

He takes the blossom from my hand and tucks it behind my ear. "It suits you," he says, stepping back, as if he can't trust himself to stand so close. "I've promised to spend the evening in the village with my sister and niece, but if you need anything or were looking for company at dinner, I'm sure Tynan can help you."

I bow my head to hide any hurt I feel at not being invited.

With two fingers beneath my chin, Misha tilts my face up until I meet his eyes. "Unless you want to come with us?"

It's better this way. Pretha knows Jasalyn better than Misha does and spending too much time with her is inviting trouble. "No. Thank you," I say. "You should catch up with your family without me."

He drops his hand with a curt nod, then turns to the stairwell door.

"Misha?" I call when he reaches for the knob. He stops and turns back to me. Regret is a sharp knife in my lungs. I wanted to do this myself, to find the portal myself so he might hate me a little less when this is all over, but if he takes me to the trees he walked among today, I'll know where to find the portal. I can't pass up this opportunity. "I would truly like to see the hilucas. I hope you'll find the time to take me."

He searches my face for so long I wonder if he can see the traitor beneath this skin. "Perhaps after the ball."

My stomach knots. The ball where he hopes to find his bride. And what if he does? What if he becomes mad for some female who's the perfect candidate to be his queen and he has no time to bother with me anymore? What if this female from his dreams appears?

Then you will have to find the Hall of Doors without him.

But the twisting ache in my chest has nothing to do with fears of failing in my mission and everything to do with my renegade heart.

Heartsick and homesick, I wander the castle gardens alone after dinner rather than facing the quiet solitude of my chambers.

The stars are bright tonight and feel close enough to touch. I wish I could reach up and rearrange them. Would I give myself a different fate? If the oracle had never foretold the twin daughter who would end Erith, would I have grown up like my twin brother? Would I be training to become one of the Seven? Or maybe even be one of them by now? Would I have never known the woman who I'll always see as my mother?

"I thought I might find you out here," someone says behind me. "My niece has a way of making people contemplate their stars."

Warmth and pleasure spread through me as I turn to Misha. He strolls toward me, his hands in his pockets. His hair is tied back, and he's dressed in all black. He's so beautiful, and my heart aches at the sight of him. "Maybe I was overdue for a little contemplation," I say as he comes to stand by my side.

"It's interesting, though, isn't it? What Lark had to say to you?"

My skin goes clammy. "I haven't really thought about it." Such a lie. I've thought about little else since I saw them this afternoon. That child wasn't prophesying for Jas, she was doing it for me. You already know your destiny.

But how can I accept something when I've seen the awful outcome?

"I wish you didn't dread it so much," Misha says, misreading the sadness on my face. "But I can't help but wonder at what she said about the timing—about it happening before your birthday." When he cuts his gaze to me, worry is etched all over his face. "Perhaps it's time to take you home to see your priestess. Maybe she'll know—"

"No."

His brows shoot up. "No? You don't want to go home?"

"I don't want to be that close to Mordeus. I..." I don't have to fake the tremble in my voice. The idea of leaving this castle one moment before I have to hurts . I know the end of my time with Misha is coming, and I need to accept that, but seeing an Unseelie priestess would be even worse. I can't risk her looking too deeply at my blood.

He nods and drops his gaze to his hands. "I'll admit that I'm shaken by what Lark said."

"About you breaking my heart?" I ask. I meant it as a joke, but there's no humor in my voice.

He blows out a breath. "Maybe that too, but mostly I'm shaken by the idea of you turning before your birthday."

"But didn't you say the future is constantly shifting, so not all her visions come to light?"

"Yes, but—"

"Then try not to worry about it."

"How could I possibly do that?"

Because I'm not Jas. Because it's a waste of your worry and a waste of your energy.

" I do worry," he says. He looks so wrecked, as if he's been turning this over and over in his head all evening and it's left him ravaged. He turns to study a late-blooming mum as he speaks. "I worry because Mab herself said you'd become fae on your eighteenth birthday, and the only reason I can imagine it happening sooner is if you took the Potion of Life. Given how you feel about becoming fae, there's only one circumstance in which I can imagine you taking that potion."

"And what's that?"

When he looks up, his eyes are bleak. "If you were dying, Jasalyn. I can only imagine you taking the Potion of Life rather than waiting to turn fae on your eighteenth birthday if you were dying and that was the only way to save you."

I thought he was pushing me away this afternoon, but he spent his whole evening worrying about the possibility of me coming close to death. Worrying about the possibility of losing me.

No. Losing Jas.

My breath catches. I'm so twisted up inside, and I have no one to blame but myself.

Misha takes me by the hips and turns me to face him. I crane my neck to look up at him, and we stay like that, only inches apart, staring into each other's eyes.

He doesn't move his hands, just keeps them on my hips and studies my face. "There's only one good thing that would come of that."

"What's that?"

"It would mean you would finally choose becoming fae over death."

I didn't tell him, did I? I revealed how bad it was when Jas was a prisoner, but that she wished for death even after? That wasn't my secret to tell.

"You haven't done a very good job of hiding it." He brushes my hair back from my face but then leaves his hand cupping my jaw, thumb stroking. "But I was hoping you'd started to feel differently since coming here."

"I feel so many things, and none of them are simple."

"I can relate to that," he says softly.

He touches his lips to mine in what must be the world's most tentative first kiss. He's asking permission. He's preparing to end the kiss before it's truly begun, and I might weep if he does.

I tilt my head ever so slightly.

His long fingers slide into my hair. Our lips part.

He tastes like wine. Did he have some at dinner? Was it faerie wine? Is it loosening his inhibitions?

When I think he's going to angle his mouth over mine and deepen the kiss, he pulls his mouth away and sighs.

Forehead to forehead, we catch our breath. I try to remember who I am and what I can and can't have, but I still can't think. Not with him this close. Not with the taste of him on my lips.

His thumb strokes across my cheek. "I never expected this."

"Me neither," I say. Gods, I want to curl into him. I want him to hold me all night long and keep these thoughts away.

He tilts my face up to his. "Will you come with me? I want to show you my favorite place."

I nod, trying not to appear too eager. He could take me anywhere. I just don't want to be away from him yet.

"It is so dark down here," I say, clinging to Misha's side.

He's brought me to the cavern deep under Castle Craige, and I can't see a thing in front of me, but I can feel his heat against my side and hear water in the distance.

I may not fear the dark like Jasalyn does, but I don't mind the excuse to stay close to Misha.

"I could cast light on our path," he says, "but then you'd miss—" Suddenly stalactites above our heads cast a dim glow on the underground path. "That."

"Wow. What is that?"

"Cave pixies live in the dew on the stalactites. If we bring too much light with us, they won't glow."

"So this wasn't all a ruse to keep me glued to your side?"

He chuckles and pulls me even closer. "I didn't say that."

I tilt my face up. "They're beautiful."

"Agreed. Pixies are earth fae, and while many spend their days aboveground, they thrive down here." The sound of running water grows louder. "It's right around this corner," he says.

We walk another minute, and the curved path leads to a smaller cavern at the back of the large one.

With a wave of his hand, Misha fills the space with a soft light, revealing a pool of crystal-clear water fed by a trickling waterfall.

"Our ancestors are said to have blessed the water for the strength and good health of their rulers," he says, "but the darkness and solitude always seem to do more for my mind than my body."

"Isn't it cold?" I ask. It's colder beneath the earth than it was in the garden, and I'm nearly shivering.

"It's a natural hot spring." He nods toward the water flowing into it. "Touch it."

I wave my hand under the flow and nearly moan with the warmth. "It's like the perfect bath."

"And it never goes cold," he says. He's quiet a moment, as if he's nervous and trying to make a decision. "Do you want to soak with me?"

"Oh..." My cheeks heat. "I..." I can't bring myself to decline. I want to stay here. I want to experience this amazing place. I want to be with him. "Turn around?" I ask.

He obeys and the light he cast on the space slowly dims. He's trying to give me privacy without leaving me in the dark, I realize.

I unfasten my dress, stripping down to my shift before I pull off my boots and stockings. His back is still turned to me as I step into the hot water and lower myself onto the stone bench.

"How's it feel?" he asks without turning.

"I'm never leaving."

He chuckles. "Well, would you mind some company? Not forever but for the first hour or so of your lifetime in my hot spring?"

"I suppose that would be okay." I bow my head, trying not to stare but aware of every move he makes as he removes his tunic and drops his bandolier of blades onto the cold limestone ground.

When he peels off his boots and pants and is left in nothing but a pair of tight undershorts, he steps into the water, keeping his eyes averted. "Would you prefer more or less light?" he asks.

In truth, I want no light. I want to be with him and not have to think about him spending this time with me while looking at another female's body. I don't let myself think on that too long. "It's fine like this."

He's on the side of the pool opposite me, and I wonder if that's what he intended—if he really planned to bring me down here and not kiss me again.

My gut clenches painfully at the thought. Tomorrow is the ball, and the next day I need to go out in search of the hiluca blossoms and the Hall of Doors. If I can't be the one to kill Erith and bring down the Elora Seven, then I need to do everything I can to help my brother do it.

Before I can let myself think about it, I move across the pool to sit beside him.

His gaze tracks every move, then skims over my bare shoulders before going back to my mouth. "I can't stop thinking about kissing you." He says it like a confession, as if I won't want to hear it. Then he closes his eyes, as if he's still fighting it.

"I was hoping you wouldn't."

"If you don't want me to, tell me because—"

I put a finger to his lips. I don't want him to say any more. I don't want him to talk himself out of kissing me. I don't want him to talk me out of letting him. I shouldn't, but I need tonight. Once I find the portal, I'll leave Castle Craige and never have a reason to return. If Jasalyn is successful, I'll leave Faerie as well.

"I was hoping you wouldn't stop thinking about it. Because I can think of nothing else," I say. "And I was thinking about it a long time before you kissed me tonight."

He slowly takes my hand and threads our fingers together before tugging me through the water toward him. "She said I'm going to break your heart."

"Probably," I whisper. I straddle his waist and loop my arms behind his neck.

"I don't want to hurt you at all." His lips part and he scans my face over and over. "We haven't talked about what happens when you go back to the shadow court."

"I know."

His hands slide through the water and find my hips, gripping, his thumbs stroking across my stomach through the wet fabric of my shift. "And you're going to let me kiss you anyway?"

"No." I sweep my mouth over his, lips still not touching but barely a breath away. "I'm going to kiss you."

Then I do. Selfishly, I kiss the Wild Fae king. His mouth is soft under mine, and when I suck his bottom lip between my teeth, his grip tightens on my hips and he pulls my body flush with his.

He angles his mouth, opening. I exhale a groan of pleasure.

I want him so acutely that need tightens in my core.

His hands fist into the wet fabric of my shift, shoving it up until it's bunched around my ribs and his hands are at my waist, his thumbs stroking the sensitive skin above each hipbone. Pleasure and hunger tangle together and pool low in my belly.

He pulls his mouth from mine and presses a finger to my lips, looking toward the long, dark path that leads to the stairs. Then I hear it too. Someone's coming.

My eyes go wide, and I bite back a giggle, like a schoolgirl caught doing something mischievous. Misha's hand is still on my waist, and I can taste him on my tongue. I'm delirious. Drunk on him.

"What do we do?" I ask. "Should we... hide?"

Two voices. I can hear them more distinctly now. They're close.

He eases me off him with low groan, but his hands linger at my hips until the last minute, as if he's reluctant to release me. "Grab your clothes."

He wants me to dress?

But then he steps out of the hot spring and scoops his clothes to his chest. Then, before I can react, he grabs mine and offers a hand to help me out.

I take it, and he grins as he draws me against his chest. "Hold on," he whispers.

In my next breath, we're in my chambers, four stories above the hot springs.

He drops our clothes on the floor and pulls me back to him.

"How?" I ask against his mouth.

"Magic." He's smiling, his hands roaming over my wet shift—down my back, up my sides, sliding over my breasts.

I gasp. "That's . . . impressive."

He kisses his way down my neck and scrapes his teeth over my bare shoulder. "I know. I was showing off."

I laugh and then shiver. The air is so much colder than the water in the hot spring was, and my wet shift clings to me as goose bumps race down my arms.

"You're cold," he says, pulling back.

I shake my head. "I'm okay." But then a shiver racks my frame again, belying my words.

Someone knocks on the door. Once. Twice. "Princess, I'm here to draw your bath."

My eyes go wide. "My maid!"

Misha takes my chin in his hand and presses a hard kiss to my lips. "Take a hot bath and warm up. I'll see you tomorrow."

"You're leaving ?"

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath before nodding. "Yes. I don't want to. At all. " His eyes search mine before studying my lips and burning cheeks. "And that's exactly why I need to."

He disappears just as the maid enters with a fresh sleeping gown for after my bath.

I spot his clothes—left behind in a pile on the floor—and kick them under the bed.

"Oh, my!" my handmaid says. "Princess, you're soaked. Did you get caught in the rain?"

I hadn't even noticed it started to rain. It was a cloudless night earlier. But sure enough, there's a steady thrum on my windowpane now.

Misha, I realize, and bite back a smile. Showing off more or covering for me? Maybe both. "I guess so."

"I'll go get some hot water," she says.

When she closes the door behind her, a low whistle comes from my bathing room.

I spin toward the sound and see Shae strolling out, his dark braid swaying, his green eyes piercing. He leans against my dresser, and I press my hand to my chest. "Gods above and below, Shae. You scared me." But we both know there's another reason my heart is racing. One that has everything to do with the night I came home from the oracle and he begged me to follow my fate despite what I'd seen.

He almost kissed me that night, lips hovering over mine as he begged with a whisper, "Don't make me choose him over you."

"I'm sorry to interrupt your evening," he says now. He looks me over, and his cold eyes go dark with something I'm afraid might be lust. Too much of me—of this body—is visible through the wet shift.

It's like a knife in the gut. He never looked at me like that when I was in my own form. With tenderness and affection, yes, but never bald lust. I only wanted him to.

I lift my chin, daring him to make me feel guilty over what he just witnessed. "I wasn't sure I'd ever see you again," I say, but I wonder if he hears what I mean. Did you ever look for me? Did you miss me at all? Did you mean it when you said you couldn't stomach letting Erith live if it meant I might be in danger?

He only showed any interest that one night—because he'd been hiding it before or because he was trying to manipulate me into action?

I never dared to suspect anything then, but it's been three years. Three years of running and hiding. I had to grow up fast, and I'm not nearly so na?ve now.

"Did you want me to stand idle while your father hunted you?" he asks.

My gut twists. "I don't want to have this argument again."

He searches my face, but his expression's too guarded to read. "I was told to come check in on you," he says, voice cooler now. "What's the update?"

I expected Remme or Skylar, maybe Natan. But the sight of Shae sends a cluster of emotions surging to the surface. Adolescent angst, longing, and rejection all tangle with the loneliness I've carried with me for so long.

Until Misha, some quiet voice in my mind whispers. You never feel lonely with Misha.

I release a breath, determined to get through this. For Hale. "We think Mordeus used blood magic to set everything in place for his own resurrection."

His eyes go wide. "You know this from a dream?"

I shake my head, though I suppose my dreams contribute to it. "Misha and I have been investigating. I need you to tell Kendrick that Jasalyn's scars are from blood magic. Somehow, Mordeus came back, and now he's using the princess to get stronger. Every time a new scar appears, it's the magic being called upon. But from what we've been told, the resurrection isn't complete. He'll need a necromancer to revive his physical body. We need to make sure that doesn't happen."

Shae folds his arms. "And the portal?"

"I'm close, but this is important. Hale needs to find out everything he can from Jas so we can figure out how to stop the blood magic. Maybe she knows something about Mordeus that I haven't learned yet—something that will help us stop him."

"Fine. I get it. I'll tell Hale that his girlfriend is a wizard who can resurrect a faerie king."

His flippancy is a punch to the gut. "You know that's not what I'm saying."

"We need that portal, Felicity. Time is running out." He crosses to me and cocks his head. "Are you even trying?"

"Of course I'm trying. I know where to look—the northern mountains where the hiluca trees grow. I'm going after the ball."

"Can I trust you? You and the king seemed mighty cozy tonight." He glances toward the bed and arches a brow. "What would've happened if that maid hadn't come? Do you think you can just pretend to be the princess forever? That you and the king can live happily ever after and he'll never notice that you aren't who you say you are?"

"Are you jealous?" I ask, and at the same moment, I realize I don't want him to be.

"Would it make a difference if I were?"

Three years ago, my blood would've hummed at Shae feeling territorial over me. Now the idea is simply exhausting. At some point in the last three years, I let go of whatever it was I felt for Shae. Maybe it was because he never came for me—never offered company when I was forced to run from Elora. Or maybe it's because after what I've begun to feel for Misha, I can see that none of my feelings for Shae ever ran that deep. "I laid my heart out for you, and you walked away. Did you expect me to wait?"

"I walked away because someone needed to save Elora if you were too scared to do it."

I set my jaw and scowl up at him. "You know why I won't do it. I won't be the reason Hale doesn't survive to see the new Elora."

"Has it ever occurred to you that maybe that's what the Chosen One means? Maybe it's his noble sacrifice that will make this all happen?"

I shake my head violently. "Elora needs Hale. Our queen needs him."

"Then you better hurry and find that portal."

I narrow my eyes. "When did you become so cold?"

"Around the same time you chose cowardice over destiny." He lifts his fist, and I realize too late that he's holding my collection of the princess's hair. "They gave you too much time, and it's given you a false sense of security. Maybe all you need is"—he pulls a tiny swath of hairs from the bundle—"a dozen? That should motivate you to get this done." He shakes his head and takes away half again of what's left. "Nah, if you already know where it is, you don't need more than a few of these, right?"

My stomach knots. "You're going to get me killed."

Shae's eyes flash with anger. "How many people have you gotten killed by refusing your destiny?" He drops the handful of Jasalyn's hair into the trash can and, with a flick of his fingers, lights it on fire.