14. Calvin

CALVIN

T aking Polina for a spin across the floor is both unnatural and the most natural thing I've ever done. The paradox of the moment is confusing, yes, but when I twirl her around and see the smile on her face, all my misgivings melt away. She's finally having fun. Although, when I pull her back into my chest, I catch the glares from Majordomo Elza and Florian out of the corner of my eye.

Polina seems to notice them, too, because the smile has faded from her lovely face.

"I don't trust them," I mutter as I lead her away from the banquet table. We disappear amongst the other dancers, and they part for us as we make our way to the other side of the ballroom. "They give me a bad feeling."

"You get used to it," she says. There's no lightness in her voice. "I have."

I sigh, shaking my head, and glide closer to the table holding the cornucopia. It's chock full of acorns and other nuts the size of pumpkins. "You shouldn't have to. No one should have to work with people who make them that uncomfortable."

"I'm not uncomfortable," she says flatly. But I can tell she's lying. For whatever reason, she still feels like she can't speak freely with me, and I'm not about to push her. "Florian will be dead in two weeks, and I will be queen. I don't plan on keeping Majordomo Elza on after that."

I raise an eyebrow. "So you've said, yeah, but does she know that?"

"Yes. She's well aware, and fine with it, too. She plans on retiring. We talked about it maybe a month ago?"

But my stomach clenches. Something about this doesn't sit right with me.

"Are you sure that's the case? Because the way she's been treating you hasn't been … hasn't been normal, Po. At least, it shouldn't be. She's downright mean to you."

"Do we have to discuss this?" Polina asks as I spin her around and glide toward an empty corner. "Here, of all places? And now?"

"I'm sorry," I say quickly. My ears burn from the embarrassment of overstepping. But—damn, is it hot in here? I didn't think a bunch of bees would generate quite this much heat. Shows what I know, I guess.

"Po, what happened to your mother?" I ask.

She scowls up at me. "My, just going from one fun topic to the next, aren't you?"

My chest tightens. "Po, this is important. Please … I know you don't want to talk about it. But what happened to her?"

"She was eaten by a bird," Polina says, and her shoulders sag, along with her expression. "The memory is painful."

I nod. "I understand."

"No, you don't. How could you?" she snaps, and she starts to pull away from my grasp. But I hold on to her. Not tightly, because I don't want to hold her against her will, but I need her to listen to me. Really hear me.

I lower my face to hers and murmur, "Yes, I do. I lost my father years ago, and it was hard then, and it's still hard even now."

Polina's face blanches like someone just tossed a bucket of cold water on her. "O-Oh. I'm so sorry, Calvin. I didn't … that was so insensitive of me to assume."

"I'm not telling you this to make you feel bad," I say as I pull her closer to my chest. "I'm telling you so you don't have to feel so alone."

All the tension in her body dissolves until she's practically a rag doll in my arms. Leading her across the floor is so effortless, feels so … right. When she looks up at me through her mask, my heart leaps into my throat, and suddenly there's nothing I'd love to do more than kiss her.

But I can't. Not with everyone watching us.

When the song finally ends and the other couples meander to the banquet tables, Polina and I remain in the center of the floor, staring at one another. Then she clears her throat and drags her gaze away, back to the alcove we were in just a little while ago.

"Ahem. Would you come with me so we could speak more in private?" she murmurs.

I nod, then follow her back into the alcove. No one seems to have noticed we left, surprisingly. Majordomo Elza remains at the table with Florian. They sit close together, whispering conspiratorially.

Polina takes my hands and brings them to her breasts, and I instinctively yank them away. "P-Po?—"

Lust hangs heavy in her eyes, and she waggles her eyebrows. "I thought perhaps we could have a repeat performance of our library tête-à-tête. Although I don't plan on doing much talking. I have other plans for my mouth."

My mouth falls open, and suddenly, I'm at a loss for words. What do I say to her? And how do I even say everything it is I want to say? No sound comes from my throat, even though I want it to. I want so badly to tell her that I care for her, yes, but that we have to be more careful. That this could cause problems for her. For the both of us.

"Well?" she insists, closing the gap between us.

"Polina," I say. Her bottom lip trembles like she's about to burst into tears again. I can't let that happen. "As much as I'd love to do that again, we can't. We shouldn't. I'm a human and you're fae. Not to mention a princess on top of all of that."

"So?" she blurts, her brows slamming together. "What does my station have anything to do with our attraction? I like you."

"I like you, too. But you're engaged. And I think everyone would have something to say about their Caretaker getting it on with their princess."

Polina puffs out her cheeks. It's adorable, but this isn't the moment to point it out. "I don't give a flying fig what anyone says, or what they think. I'm tired of everyone making decisions for me. I'm tired of living a life under someone else's wing."

I wince. It's not that I'm without sympathy … but it's obvious that Polina isn't actually interested in me for me. She's interested in what I can do for her. "I don't want to be used, though," I say, crossing my arms in front of my chest. "You don't like Elza, or Florian. I get that, but?—"

"I can't let my first time be with someone I hate." The words explode out of her. "I just can't. I like you. I care about you. I want to experience pleasure for the first time with … with you. Not him. Though it's not like he'll be able to give me any, anyway."

I snort. Okay, probably true. The guy definitely doesn't scream "generous" to me. I've known guys like him at the office—they would brag about their one-night stands but could never convince the women to come back for seconds. Telling.

Gathering my courage, or what little of it there is, I grab her by the shoulders and press her up against the wall. She gasps, and I slam my hand against the wall above her head, boxing her in. I've seen men do this in movies, and I've always wanted to try it, but me being … well, me, I've never had the opportunity. Now I have the opportunity, and fuck me if I'm going to waste it.

"Then tell me to stop," I growl.

I have no clue what I'm doing. My hands tremble. All of this feels completely unnatural to me. And I definitely didn't have enough clover mead to make any of this easier, that's for sure. But when Polina's breath hitches and she squirms against the wall, the faux confidence that got me this far starts to feel real. Like maybe they weren't making shit up when they came up with fake it til you make it .

"You're gorgeous," I rasp, and lean forward to brush my lips against hers. Tentatively, first, to make sure she's still on board with everything, to give her an out…

But then all four of her arms wrap around my body and pull me against her. Our mouths meld together, and my god, do they feel good. Like the warm, calming rays of summer sunshine. Her pixie dust spills everywhere, getting on my cheeks, my clothes, in my hair. I don't care.

And I don't sneeze, either.