12

The moment we reached the familiar, poppy-kissed glade, I recognized all the telltale signs of Agathe's presence in Walder's cottage.

Walder's little haven in the very heart of the Dragonfly was seemingly unchanged, boasting ivy-clad stone walls, a pink gabled roof covered with wild wisteria, an arched green door with incoherent swirling patterns for a touch of whimsy, and flower-bursting window boxes in the most exuberant colors imaginable. Despite the lack of glaring evidence, I knew Agathe was here by simply breathing in the sweetened air and feeling the particularly mirthful grass with my fingertips. The golden specks of dust, which always rose high after sundown in dense mist-like clusters over the entire forest, wafted left and right with a bit more vibrancy than usual. A scene so discreetly enchanting that I thought only a Curiosity could fully appreciate it.

Nepheli was beaming indeed. Her earlier worries and fears dissipated, only for her relentless curiosity to emerge stronger than ever.

It wasn't the first time I caught her glowing like that. The glow was as pale as the moon, and I didn't believe she was aware of it. But I had noticed. It was impossible not to notice, and not only because this woman was practically a walking star. Nepheli was just… nice to look at, I supposed. Her face was a collection of interesting features. The soft arch of her silver brows. The fullness of her mouth. The little slope of her nose. The wild opalescence of her hair and the way her pretty blue eyes sparkled as she stretched her throat to the sky and squinted against the starlight, oblivious to how the blazing horizon tried but failed to compare to her beauty.

Our journey had been easy after our little mishap in Fairyland. She'd asked questions, and I'd evaded them. I'd made crude jokes, and she'd scoffed at them, glaring at me the way she did, all dignity and umbrage.

I was strangely aware of her body next to mine now as we crossed the garden, past the trellis and the rosebushes and the quaint little chairs around the metal oval table at which Walder liked to take his breakfast. I was fixed on the swishing of her skirts, the tide of her breathing, and that red-purple mark on her elegant neck that taunted me with its dramatic obviousness.

What had gone through my head to bite her of all things I could not determine without questioning my sanity. But Nepheli had been so frightened and frantic that I'd had to snap her out of the fairies' influence one way or another before she ended up hurting herself. And this, apparently, seemed like a good idea at the moment.

With a sigh, I tugged on the entry's golden drawstring, and the three little bells dangling over the arch of the door jingled their merry song.

Walder's featherlight footsteps sounded from inside the cottage, and if I had a heart now, I knew I would be overwhelmed with a bittersweet sense of nostalgia.

Feelings like these were what I missed the most. The ones that were evidence of a life well and fully lived. Nostalgia, gratitude, awe, a lovely sort of melancholia while gazing at a sunset, the sky bleeding and my eyes starving for its death.

I'd like to say that the things I was willing to do to get these feelings back frightened me, but I was beyond fear.

Or so I believed.

There had been a moment today in Fairyland when I'd gathered Nepheli in my arms and ran as fast as my body could manage that I could have sworn something inside me had pounded—throbbed like a frightened heart. But that was probably just me losing my mind, right? This wild hunt had finally driven me mad.

The door creaked open, and there he was—not my oldest friend, but my dearest, for he had met me as a heartless man but never treated me as such. After all, Walder was not the kind of creature that could be broken by someone like me.

His kind, ageless face widened, first with surprise, then with genuine delight. He laughed under his breath, and we exchanged—as Mother would say—our unpleasant pleasantries: embraces that involved slaps on the back and calling each other bastard.

I took a good look at him. His wise black eyes, his gleaming dark skin—flushed from an early glass of wine, no doubt—and his full lips, as always on the verge of smiling. Lush foliage trailed from the sides of his neck and moved upward to cup his cheeks like the phosphorescent scales of a river kelpie.

He was perhaps the most significant and powerful being in the Dragonfly Forest. Although Eiran was its Guardian, Walder was its Heart.

"You look good, old man," I drawled.

Walder raised his dark brows and fixed the collar of his silk white shirt. "I'd tell you how you look, but we are in a lady's presence, I see," he said in his generous, baritone way as he turned to Nepheli.

With a hand at the small of her back, I ushered her forward."Walder, this is Nepheli Curiosity. We are… traveling companions."

For a microsecond, Walder's expression turned deviously sardonic, both at the unnecessary explanation and the evident mark on Nepheli's neck.

"Hello," Nepheli croaked as her nervousness and excitement peaked.

Walder bowed, slipping his palm under hers to leave a brief, reverent kiss on the back of her hand, something that made Nepheli blush up to her hairline. "Charmed," he warbled. "I am—"

"A forest spirit," Nepheli blurted out, breathless in awe. She smoothed her palms over her mud-stained skirts in clear embarrassment. "I—I didn't know."

Okay, so there was no doubt that Walder was one outrageously handsome bastard, but for fuck's sake, she looked like she was about to fall into his arms and profess her eternal devotion to him.

Of course, her shock was justifiable—spirits, although habitually living amongst mortals for centuries now, were hardly lesser than gods. But, seriously now, they were staring into each other's eyes like lovestruck idiots for what seemed to be an entire damned minute.

I finally cleared my throat, and Walder cast me a wry, sideways glance. "Well, Nepheli, it seems like Apollo didn't warn either of us because I certainly had no idea he had such a lovely traveling companion. But please don't be alarmed. Guests are always welcome here. Come—Come inside. Make yourself at home."

We barely managed a step before Agathe burst out of the doorsill, exclaiming a jolly, "Apollo!"

Her butterfly wings left a pink trail of magic behind as she flew straight at me and wrapped her tiny arms around my face. She was no bigger than my forearm, but she was as strong as ten young warriors, and I stumbled backward at the impact.

"By the sky! How fortunate to be visiting Walder at the same time!" She released me with a little laugh, clapping her hands together. "And you brought a girl too!" That, she said it the way I thought Mother would say it, with exaggerated relief and indignant joy.

So I clarified once again, "We're traveling companions."

Walder mocked me with an insidious little smirk. "Are you repeating it because you're afraid we'll forget?"

I gritted my teeth, swallowing down a curse.

Thankfully, Nepheli wasn't paying a morsel of attention to either of us. "You're a weaver," she gasped, gaping at Agathe. "An actual weaver."

"Nepheli isn't from around here, obviously," I said dryly, and Walder glared like he wanted to slap me for the remark.

"It appears so," Agathe laughed endearingly. "Come on, Nepheli, why don't we get you washed up and ready for dinner? Walder is a marvelous cook."

Nepheli stepped inside the cottage with Agathe's pink-and-purple form floating like a cheerful cloud above her head. "I have questions," she breathed out.

"Let me guess," Agathe chimed. "You're a Curiosity…"

Their voices dwindled as they moved further into the cottage. Agathe said something, and Nepheli laughed. She had a very nice laugh, clear and fluid like a gurgling brook. The sound mesmerized me, and something uncomfortably—inexplicably—warm flared in my chest. Not a feeling, but perhaps the shadow of one.

I moved forward, compelled by some unseen gravitational force, but Walder put a hand on my chest and got in my way.

He towered over me, the silent question sizzling in his eyes.

"Don't start," I groaned.

"Where exactly did you meet your new traveling companion?"

"It's a long story."

Walder sighed. "Apollo, is this what I think it is?"

The accusation wasn't, by any means, irrational. It wasn't even cruel. I was desperate to get my heart back—as desperate as I could be in this void of a body, at least. But the mere thought of doing something like that to Nepheli fueled me with such shame that I almost believed myself cured. To Nepheli of all people, who wore her heart on her sleeve and her soul in her eyes, who stopped to blow a wish whenever she found dandelions in the forest, who feared transformation almost as much as she craved it, who longed for magic unknowing of the brilliant magic within herself—and anyone this kind and clever and funny was magic. She had a heart, a stupidly beautiful one, and therefore, to me, she was the most magical girl in the world.

I could never use her like that. Walder had to understand this. He had to believe that I'd done my best to be as crude and annoying, and downright vulgar to her without being cruel. And, gods knew, it was far from easy pushing Nepheli away. I genuinely enjoyed spending time with her. I liked how sharp and witty she was. I liked her honesty and her willingness to share herself with me. Whenever I talked to her, I felt this massive weight lifting off my shoulders. I could breathe again. I could even pretend that I was normal. I could get so easily addicted to her company. And that was a problem. Nepheli was too clever to give her love to someone like me, but she was still kindhearted enough to offer me her friendship, and I was selfish enough to accept it. So perhaps I needed to be cruel. Perhaps it was the only way to protect her from me, and like Eiran had said, to keep my soul at the very least.

"I promise you, it's not what you think," I reassured Walder, letting out one long, exhausted breath.

"The girl has a love bite on her neck," he deadpanned.

"It was no love, believe me."

"So you did bite her," he accused.

"Only to save her," I protested.

He scrutinized me through unimpressed eyes. "From what? Finding a proper suitor?"

"Don't be clever," I snorted. "The mark will fade in a couple of days. Certainly, her suitors back home can last this long, no?"

For all I knew, Nepheli didn't care about finding a suitor anyway. She was independent and smart and willful. And it was obvious that she had some kind of star-magic inside her that the North had awakened. So the only thing Nepheli should be doing right now is studying at one of the Magical Arts Academies of the East or apprenticing in Thaloria. She should be experiencing the world, not simpering over soft little boys who were hardly deserving enough of her to be called suitors.

In fact, I hoped that mark never faded from her neck.

Walder crossed his arms over his chest. "Then what exactly happened?"

"Fairies. Like I said, long story."

"I have time."

"You also have wine," I remarked. "So, can we maybe do this sitting down?"

Walder considered. "She's very pretty."

"Really? I didn't notice."

"Seems nice too."

"Too nice if you ask me."

Walder's frown deepened, although he didn't seem mad or even disappointed in me. He looked hopeful. After seven years, it bewildered me that there were still people in my life who cared about me like that. I couldn't offer back even a morsel of this affection, and yet they loved me enough to even entertain such a terrible idea.

There was something so unlovely about love. More often than it should, it was painfully unequal.

"Does she have feelings for you?" he asked, lowering his voice to an urgent whisper.

"That woman hates my guts," I scoffed. "I'm just helping her return to the South, is all."

"But she could be—"

"Walder, please," I groaned. "Wine."

"Fine," he muttered, casting a disapproving glare at my clothes. "But you better clean up first. I don't serve dinner to filthy brutes."

I bristled, shrugging off my cape as I took a step inside the cottage. "I swear, you and Nepheli are made for each other."