14

The dress was made of stars. A close-fitting bodice with satin ribbons on the back and delicate embroidery of drunken constellations on the front unraveled into full silver skirts, each lush layer as soft as satin and as gauzy as lace. It was a bit scandalous too, with a slit running up the left leg and a square neckline that could only be described as generous. Back in Elora, I would be mortified to be caught wearing something this daring, but here, in the liberating embrace of magic and adventure, I felt more beautiful and confident than ever as I slipped into it. In fact, I wished for the night to never end so I could keep wearing it and feel like this forever.

Agathe helped me fix my hair in an elaborate updo as well, pinning up some of my curls with sparkly, star-shaped hairpins.

"Isn't this a bit much for dinner?" I wondered, staring open-mouthed at the new Nepheli in the mirror. I could not remember the last time I'd attended any sort of dinner, much less a formal one. Was it the night I met Ryker's family or the last Winter Solstice I'd spent with my parents before they moved West? Both felt like an eternity ago.

"Nonsense," Agathe huffed, and with a stitch of her needle, her simple pink attire transformed into a twilight-colored dress embellished with tiny amethyst crystals. "Life is too short not to dress like a princess at every given opportunity."

I narrowed my eyes at her with comical incredulity. "Aren't you immortal, Agathe?"

"Well, you're not," she said dramatically. "I'm trying to be supportive here." She grabbed my wrist with both hands, hauled me up, and dragged me out of the room like it was nothing.

"You're freakishly strong, you know that?" I wheezed.

Agathe grinned at me over one wing as I followed her to the mushroom-ridden staircase. "I can knock a grown man down by simply blowing a wisp of air at him," she declared.

"Oh, please, do that to Apollo tonight," I cackled, and we didn't stop giggling all the way to the dreamy, candlelit dining room.

A marvelously set table, only big enough for four, unfolded before an arched window that overlooked Walder's glorious backyard and the twinkling night sky. The hearth right next to it was already crackling and roaring, the mantle adorned with vases full of the most peculiar blooms I'd seen in my life, a cross between roses and begonias but with wide open faces like a sunflower's.

"By the sky," Walder sighed, jumping to his feet the moment we entered the room. He came and kissed the back of my hand, bowing from the waist. "You look absolutely ravishing, my dear," he said in his rich, animated voice, and I was fairly certain that I blushed like an enamored idiot at that smile he flashed me. I had no idea spirits were such charmers. "Like a newborn star."

"Oh, for fuck's sake. Can we hold back the simpering nonsense, please?" Apollo, who didn't even deign to look at me, much less rise from his seat around the table, grumbled and gulped down what remained of the wine in the crystal cup in his hand.

To my surprise, he'd spruced up a bit. He had washed and shaved and got dressed in a loose white shirt, black trousers, and suspenders that fit him rather handsomely. The light from the candles placed high on the shelves around the window dazzled over his chiseled face and made a halo of his hair, giving him an ethereal, almost fairy-like look. The dark jumble of his hair was combed back, but a couple of insolent locks still fell over his eyes as he leaned over the table for the wine bottle. That was Apollo in a picture. Absentminded and carelessly beautiful.

Walder cleared his throat. "Didn't I say something about not serving dinner to brutes?"

Apollo sighed, rolled his eyes at the ceiling, and finally turned his head. A rush of heat went through me at the snap of his attention. He stared at me for a few long, long seconds with his hand paused on the wine bottle and his eyes flickering over my body like broken lamplights, momentary and unsteady. Then he looked away, swallowed once, and grumbled, "Can we please eat now? I'm starving."

Walder groused under his breath, "Impossible boy."

Of course, Apollo couldn't even spare me a disingenuously polite comment. Why was I even surprised? It was ridiculous to feel disappointed, standing in this beautiful, glimmering room with a mahogany piano to my left, a crackling fire to my right, and a meticulously set table before me, all while being in the company of two kind and brilliant magical creatures. This was going to be a lovely evening, and not even the Prince of Broken Hearts couldn't ruin it for me.

"Why don't you take a seat, Nepheli," Walder said in resignation, and he ushered me to the empty chair next to Apollo.

Agathe settled down on the miniature set of furniture that Walder had attentively arranged on the spot across from me, amid the generous dishes and various candles that spread over the table. He made sure to serve us all wine and food—a mouthwatering assortment of roasted potatoes, salt-baked sea bass with warm tomato vinaigrette, and herb-buttered vegetables—before settling down himself, opposite Apollo.

"Everything looks absolutely delicious, Walder," I crooned in pure delight. "Thank you so much for your hospitality."

Walder raised his glass to a toast, winking at me with boyish mischief. "To charming new friends."

For a little while, we all luxuriated in his divine dishes and outlandishly sweet wine. The wine in particular struck me with a keen sense of magic, as it only took a few sips of the vermillion-and-gold liquid to make me feel light and fever-warm. But I drank merrily, as indulgently as the evening demanded.

"Pace yourself," Apollo shot at me, cutting with unnecessary aggression through his fish.

I glared at him. "You pace yourself. You've alone drunk half the bottle."

"Don't worry, dear. There's plenty more where it came from," Walder reassured and conjured between his long fingers a second bottle of wine, the clear glass glinting mirthfully in the candlelight.

I started with a gasp. "How did you do that?"

Walder shrugged. "I'm a spirit. I can quite literally spirit away to the shadow-world and conjure back to reality anything I desire."

"That's fascinating," I sighed, tingles of wonder trailing up my bare arms. "I've read that spirits are in direct connection with the unseen, but I would love for you to tell me more about the shadow-world later, if it's not too much to ask."

"It's just a little magic," Apollo cut in, brushing back the locks from his eyes with an impatient hand. "What's so fascinating about it?"

I raised him a brow. "What is up with you tonight?"

He ignored me and leaned over to take the bottle from Walder.

"I would be delighted to answer all of your questions, my dear," Walder graciously ventured, "But first, I'm dying to hear all about your journey. How are you finding the North so far?"

A prickle of anxiety jabbed at my chest. I sat back on the chair as my eyes drifted to the pink candle that burned next to my plate, its little flame quivering like a tiny fearful heart. I saw my whole life flashing in that uncertain yellow-orange light, the past shrinking into a smaller, less curious place while the now seemed to expand, a bright door left ajar to countless possibilities. "Daunting. Dazzling. Vast," I admitted. "I've only been here a couple of days, yet my life back home already feels like… like the first chapter of a very long book. A chapter that was dull and unmemorable, and utterly incomparable to the current one, where everything is so magical and vibrant, and a bit scary," I blabbered on until I raised my eyes from the candle and realized that everyone was staring at me. "I'm sorry. I'm rambling."

"On the contrary," Walder encouraged, "I adore hearing people's first impressions of the Dragonfly. I still remember how astounded Apollo was when he'd found my cottage."

I shifted in my seat to look at Apollo, who seemed entirely disengaged from the conversation. "Why were you astounded?"

"I expected something less… quaint," was all he contributed, glancing away from me and out of the window.

"Did you stumble on it by accident?" I pressed.

"It's a long story," he blurted out before Walder could reply on his behalf.

Agathe sighed in exasperation. "And apparently you're too busy to entertain us with it now."

"Can I please eat my dinner in peace?" Apollo groaned.

"You're hardly eating," I observed, following his gaze to the twinkling sky outside. "What are you looking at anyway?"

"I believe Apollo is quite taken with the stars tonight," Agathe crooned.

"Oh, you'll always find Apollo staring at the sky," Walder said with a giant, coy smile. "Did he tell you he wanted to be an astronomer when he was young?"

Apollo's head whipped around. His lips were red from the wine and his cheeks pink from the attention, and I just loved watching him fidget in his seat. "I'm not telling you anything ever again," he growled at Walder.

Walder laughed in pure contentment.

I cast Apollo a teasing sideways glance. "An astronomer, huh?"

He snapped his eyes on mine, dark grey stones melting in the candlelight. "I was a boy. I was just being silly."

"There's nothing silly about a dream," I argued.

"There is when it's unreachable."

"Why is it unreachable?" I insisted. "Haven't you had enough of traveling? Why not settle down and follow your passions since you're clearly not interested in politics?"

"I never said I wasn't interested in politics."

"Then why leave your court?"

"You ask a lot of questions, darling."

"Only because I never get proper answers."

I thought his eyes darkened just to taunt me. His heated gaze held me captive. My only option was to stare back at him. I wasn't sure how it had happened, but we had somehow moved closer to each other, and now his knee was bumping mine under the table, and our forearms were fighting for space atop it.

He must have registered the sudden closeness too, because we leaned back and faced our plates at the exact same time.

Tamping down this strange sense of thrill that spread through my entire body and turned my insides liquid, I took a long sip from my wine to cool off and a bite from my plate to distract myself from him. "This is so good, Walder. It's the best food I've ever had, honestly."

"Told you he's a marvelous cook," Agathe chirped, drinking from her tiny cup.

"Good company is always inspiring," said Walder. "You know, you're more than welcome to stay for a few more days if you want to rest before you continue with your journey."

"Walder," Apollo warned.

"Apollo," Walder echoed ruefully, some sort of challenge shimmering in his eyes. An entire silent conversation unraveled in that tense look they shared. "Since you're clearly not very hungry, why don't you play us something on the piano? I'm afraid I've grown too rusty to entertain you properly."

"You play the piano?" I squeaked, nearly knocking my glass over.

I wasn't sure why I found it so outrageous—he was a prince, after all. I just couldn't picture him pouring into something so pleasant and appropriate. In fact, the only things I could picture Apollo Zayra practicing—most likely in the mirror—were dangerous smiles and indecent words.

"I had a very thorough education," Apollo bit out and took yet another generous sip of wine. Was that his third glass already? Gods, how many glasses had I had?

"He's also proficient in several fae dialogues, is an accomplished fencer, and is an excellent ballroom dancer," Walder egged on.

I snorted with laughter and clapped my hands together. "Okay, that I have to see."

"Oh, I know just the song too!" Walder exclaimed, launching to his feet. He went to the piano, sat down on the little matching stool in front of it, and began playing the most beautiful, sweeping melody, the kind of music that could lure you into all kinds of wild daydreams and romantic fascinations.

Apollo, who'd grown an alarming shade of red, shot daggers at his friend's back. "Too rusty, huh?"

Walder grinned at us over his shoulder, his fingers deft and unfaltering on the keys. "Like I said, good company inspires me."

"Come on, Apollo," Agathe goaded. "Dance with Nepheli."

I choked on a piece of potato. "Gods," I coughed and gulped it down with wine. "I'm not a very good dancer. I hardly remember how—"

"Apollo can show you," Agathe interjected before I could even finish.

"Nepheli doesn't want to dance, Agathe," Apollo gritted out.

"Nonsense! Of course, she wants to dance!" Walder cut in, the melody reaching a reprieve before outbursting again. "If I were your age, I would never be found sitting down."

Apollo cast him a withering look. "You're eternal."

"And you're a bore," Walder tutted. "Would you prefer to play the piano while I dance with Nepheli?"

For some reason, this seemed to aggravate Apollo even more. "Will you leave me alone?" he growled.

"No!" Agathe and Walder chimed in unison.

Apollo sighed in resignation, rose to his feet, and offered me his arm. "What do you say, darling? Want to get it over with?"

"How can I refuse such a heartwarming invitation," I mocked, slinking a hand around his elbow.

The warm, sparkling sensation the wine had given me shot from my chest straight to my knees as I stood up, and I had to tighten my grip on Apollo's exquisitely hard bicep for some steadiness. He didn't seem to notice my teetering, though, as he guided me to the little space between the piano and the table. His face was a perfect mask of cold sobriety.

Perhaps it was the wine talking, but he did look like the cultured young prince he once was as he stood there in the firelight before me. Poised and handsome and very certain within his body. The way he led my hand to his shoulder. The way he slipped his own over the small of my back and nudged me closer. The way he looked down at me, a bit flushed but steadfast and assured. And he smelled good, too. So good, I had the urge to bury my face in his chest and drown myself in his scent.

Oh, this was definitely the wine talking.

He fixed his hold on my waist and stepped closer. The sudden nearness made me keenly aware of my tactility, the bones beneath my skin, and my heart squeezed in the middle. We'd touched before. We'd been this close—closer, even. Yet this felt different somehow. These had been touches of necessity or unavoidable proximity. This was both easier and harder. Easier because his warm, strong body fell into such effortless alignment with mine, you'd think we'd done this a hundred times before. Harder because the closeness made my head swim with stars and my stomach swarm with butterflies.

I licked my dry lips and admitted, "I don't think I remember how to do this."

"When I step forward, you step back," he said with a demonstration. My body complied, remembered perhaps, and although initially stiff and awkward in his embrace, I fell easily into his rhythm once I got the hang of it.

We swayed and span and swayed again, and somehow, each step brought us a little closer until my chest was flush with his and his thighs were brushing mine with every slight movement. The music drowned. The room faded. There was nothing but us, swinging in the golden semidarkness.

I cleared my throat. "You're really good at this. Dancing, I mean."

"You're good too," he said, something of his coldness thawing dollop by dollop.

"You must be very drunk if you just said something good about me," I snorted.

Apollo tilted his head down, slid past my mouth, and whispered in the shell of my ear with playful secrecy, "Walder conjures his wine from the Fae Realms."

My mouth fell open. "We're going to be delirious."

"Don't worry, darling," Apollo teased, and his hand on the curve of my back tightened possessively. "I won't take advantage of you."

I mocked him with an irreverent look. "Maybe I will take advantage of you."

He raised a brow. "I'd like to see that."

"I was just—"

"Joking, I know, Little Butterfly. I'm not new to the concept of sarcasm."

I scowled. "Gods, you're insufferable."

His eyes fell on my mouth. "You're more than insufferable. You're my worst nightmare."

"Good for me," I tried to retort, but my voice left me a bit breathless.

He didn't notice. He was still transfixed on my lips. "Good for you, indeed."

I swallowed, fumbling for courage. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

He swayed us again, still staring down at me the way he did. The slit of my dress billowed away, and his knee eased between my legs. I had to bite my lip not to make some obscene little sound.

"How am I looking at you?"

"Like my heart is on the menu."

He smirked, dark with amusement. "Your heart is safe from me, darling."

I stared back at him, right into the void of his eyes, and felt as though I were falling, the floor beneath my feet losing gravity. "And the rest of me?"

He licked his lips. "What about the rest of you?"

"Is it safe?"

I was clearly delirious, mad, off my head. I was flirting with him. Actually, not only did I flirt with him, but I enjoyed it too.

Apollo's eyes dropped to the generous neckline of my dress. His hand on my waist glided upward, and his thumb skimmed the underside of my breast. A shockwave of heat rushed through me. A ragged exhale escaped me. I felt so hot that I thought I was going to explode and set the whole cottage on fire.

"Do you want it to be safe, darling?"

No.

Yes.

Maybe?

In a strictly carnal, surface-level way, Apollo, I thought, was attracted to me. Not that this made me special. I didn't believe his standards were very high to begin with. In fact, I was pretty sure Apollo had as many meaningless dalliances and one-night flings as books I had read. But the desire was there, and it was obvious in his drowsy, lust-stricken eyes, his hands that brought me closer, his knee that kept slipping between my legs. The question was what I wanted to do about it. If I wanted to do something about it. I had never experienced lust this way before, and certainly not for a man I hardly knew. But perhaps that was the point, besides his blatant, ridiculous attractiveness, of course. The irresponsibility of it made it exciting. To be careless just this once…

"Don't answer that question," he rasped, his voice dropping to a whisper, something meant only for my ears.

I frowned. "Why not?"

His jaw clenched. "Just don't answer."

"Fine."

He released a breath and swayed us a bit faster, following the tempo of the music perfectly. Our bodies fused together, and I started to think that only the Prince of Broken Hearts could make such a dignified dance feel so sinful.

He lowered his head to my ear again, and his sweet, hot breath drew goosebumps on my skin. "The dress… it suits you."

I feigned surprise. "Really?"

"Yeah, you look…you know how you look."

"Is that so?"

"Don't get cocky, Little Butterfly."

I raised my chin. "Why not? I look fantastic."

"You look dangerous."

"Dangerous?"

"Very, very dangerous."

For a dizzying, head-splitting second, my heart skittered from the possibility that he was going to kiss me right then and there because he stopped moving completely and just… bore into me, touching me with his eyes in a thousand different ways and in a thousand different places. Until I felt possessed by him, taken in some intangible but significant way. He looked at me the way people look at the sky at night when there are so many things to see, so many mysteries to uncover. And for that daydreaming—dangerous—second, I wished for his lips on mine. I wished for his taste in my mouth. I wished for his hands on the curve of my hips. I wished for his impulsiveness with the same kind of passion that I hated it. I wanted the world to cease, the colors and shapes of this room to melt into some unknown realm, and leave us here all alone, in the skittering uncertainty of the moment.

But then he blinked. He blinked, and swallowed, and jolted as though a bolt of electricity had just shot through him.

"I'm sorry," he choked out and stormed off, leaving me flushed and breathless to stare at the empty spot in front of me.

The music ceased, and Walder came to offer me his arm. "Why don't we finish our dinner, dear? I made chocolate cake for dessert."

Something must have been terribly wrong with me because here I was about to refuse a slice of cake, and gods knew how sacred cake was to me.

I glanced over my shoulder toward the lightless staircase. "Shouldn't we go—"

"Give him some time," said Walder gently, guiding me back to my seat.

"What's gotten into him? Did he have too much to drink?"

Walder shook his head. "I pushed him. And I shouldn't have. He told me not to."

I frowned at him, more confused than ever. "Pushed him? You were playing music. You were being a good host."

"I was being selfish."

"Selfish?"

Agathe sighed resignedly, and the both of them shared a strange look, a secret something I clearly wasn't privy to.

"To you," said Walder. "You see, after the curse, Apollo lost a lot of people from his life, and he has hardly tried to form new relationships. He's trying to protect us. His family, most of all. To love someone who can't fully reciprocate your feelings comes with a great deal of heartache, and he's done his best to spare them from it. Always away, always moving. But that is how I know Apollo is a good man. He does the right thing, even when it's hard. Even when he doesn't understand it. People often do good things because it makes them feel good. Apollo doesn't feel at all. He has to navigate life only on instinct and logic and faded memories of the person he once was. And the more he stays heartless, the more he forgets what it was like to have a heart—to be thoughtful and kind. Moral decisions that might seem trivial to you puzzle him more than he would ever care to admit. It's such a lonely existence. To have yourself as an enemy. I was just happy to see him here with you. To see him with a… traveling companion for a change." He sighed at himself. "I shouldn't have pushed him tonight."

I hadn't even considered the possibility of Apollo being unhappy with his curse. He seemed plenty content gallivanting across the Realm, diving headfirst into adventure, flirting with everything that breathed, and experiencing life without a care in the world, except maybe where he'd sleep at night. He didn't seem lonely, either. He seemed careless and appallingly arrogant and—

Gods, I was doing it again, wasn't I? Judging people without ever trying to understand their true nature, the motives and traumas that had formed them into who they were.

No wonder I had no friends. No wonder no one would miss me if I literally fell from the sky and disappeared forever. It wasn't only because I couldn't find anyone to connect with in Elora. I was too self-absorbed, too comfortable in my aloneness, too scared to reach out. And I wanted to change. I wanted to be the kind of woman who could laugh and dance and flirt unabashedly. I wanted friendship and companionship and affection. I wanted to have a conversation with someone other than my cauldron. I wanted to be looked at the way Apollo had looked at me tonight. I wanted to shatter all of my walls. I just didn't know… how.

"So the rumors are true. He didn't choose this. Apollo is truly cursed," I said hoarsely, a flurry of questions storming inside my head.

Walder's brows bunched together. "He hasn't told you anything?"

"We're not friends," I murmured, staring at my hands. "We really are just traveling companions."

"Perhaps if you both tried a little," Walder mused, "you could change that."

"Friendship takes time, and we don't have much left," I argued, and a small part of me ached at the thought of going back home to an empty apartment and a tedious routine, utterly unchanged.

Walder tasted his wine with a thoughtful expression on his face. "I'd like to believe that time doesn't determine how you feel about someone. It's the experiences and conversations and interactions, no matter how brief, that bring two people closer."

Feeling dizzy from the head-splitting combination of wine, anxiousness, and the spider-thin prickle of indecision, I chewed at the corner of my lip while some kind of resolution slowly took space in my chest. You can do it, Nepheli, a small voice inside me cheered. You can become someone better. You can learn how to reach out. It's not too late.

I sucked in a breath."I think I'll go check on him."

Walder broke into a giant, heartening smile. "You do that."

I headed toward the rosewood staircase, my skirts swishing with impatience around my ankles and the little butterfly pendant on my clavicle burning with something like hope.