Five

Chapter Five

This couldn’t be real. Emma was staring into the eyes of the most gorgeous man she’d ever met, and he was saying all the right things to get her to drop her guard. Worse, he was making her want to drop her guard. The most dangerous guy she’d ever dated—not that they were dating—was the one getting under her skin.

Figures.

She sighed and shook her head. “Maybe… Maybe we have things to teach each other. But you have to wait till I’m ready instead of springing things on me like that. No pun intended.”

Lachlan chuckled, but then said, “I have limited time. The next stage of the Wheel of the Year is Beltane, and that’s coming up fast.”

“May first, right?”

“You really do know your stuff,” he said.

She smiled tensely, waiting for him to pry. He had come so close to digging out her biggest secret, but he wasn’t pushing her about it, even though it might serve his purposes. Maybe he really was respecting her wishes. Maybe he wasn’t like the Fae in the stories.

Or the fairy that she had met as a child.

She shook her head quickly, hard enough to rattle the memories back into their cage. Lachlan’s brow furrowed, but he still didn’t ask what had prompted her to do so. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

“So, we have a timeline,” she said. “I can work with that. But first, I really need to clear my head.”

“Okay. How do we do that?”

She scowled, wondering whether she should ask him to leave. Emma had spent almost every moment with Hayden and Finn since she was given the magic of the Wheel of the Year, Finn watching over them both as they learned to deal with their new abilities. Emma was afraid the moment Lachlan left her sight, the moment she was alone, the doubts would start to rise in her mind—old doubts that had left deep scars. She didn’t want to be left wondering if this had all been some kind of dream. Or worse, to be stuck telling herself over and over that fairies weren’t real, so none of this could be possible. To fall back into the habit of convincing herself not to believe her own perceptions.

Lachlan had just told her to believe in herself. No one had ever said that. Not where this was concerned. It was exhilarating and terrifying. If she stopped turning away from the magical world that had once more opened itself up to her, would she fall into it and lose herself? Her humanity? She looked up at Lachlan, saw the earnestness in his expression, and her stomach filled with butterflies. That had never happened before.

I felt this way when I saw him at the restaurant, before I knew he was Fae.

More than her humanity was on the line. Her heart raced when she looked at him. Her skin prickled with awareness when he was near. And when he spoke, what he said didn’t seem like a trick or a spell. For all that he was a fairy king, he seemed real in a way that no one she’d ever dated before had been. She realized in that moment that she had to see this through.

“Follow me.” She released her death grip on his shirt and turned to walk down the trail. Lachlan kept her hand in his, a slight smile on his face as he glanced up at the greening trees.

After a while, she said, “Finn is doing a good job helping spring along.”

“He is. I worried about him at first, when I gave him the job. He didn’t seem the right fit, but he’s exceeded my expectations at every turn.”

“Why did you think he couldn’t do it?”

“Have you seen how he dresses?” Lachlan laughed. “I didn’t think he’d really get what it means to help spring along. But he has his own way of getting his job done. He’s more focused on the aesthetics. The flowers and colors are always more vibrant when he’s on the job.”

‘Vibrant,’ not ‘impressive.’ Emma had to admit, she liked the way Lachlan thought. And it didn’t match what she’d read in most of her fairytale books. Fairies were supposed to be completely self-centered and self-serving. At least Lachlan seemed to value things beyond power and influence.

They had reached the edge of town and strolled along the sidewalk in front of a row of houses. Most had flowerbeds, flower boxes, or a mix of the two in their yards. Even this early in the year, they were filled with spectacular colors. Tulips and irises in every shade, daffodils shining like little yellow suns that cheerfully swayed in the slight breeze, and beautiful clusters of crocuses.

If she was going to get sucked into the affairs of the Fae, at least it was for her favorite season. Not that she was okay with it or giving in at all. She was just gathering information. Figuring out more about her ‘co-ruler.’

“I’m curious—what does helping spring along mean to you?” she asked.

“It’s about helping the seeds to sprout and grow deep roots so they can handle the monumental growth of summer.” He lifted his free hand in front of him, gazing at it as if imagining soil marking his palm. “Spring is about getting your hands dirty. About digging into the earth and feeling her energy. Feeding and supporting it and following the cycles of nature.”

“You don’t just use magic all the time?”

“No.” He shook his head, a distant look in his eyes and a soft smile on his face. “There are some things you just have to experience. Besides, getting your hands in the soil has its own magic.”

Emma stared up at him, one eyebrow quirked. “So… you’re a king who works the land?” That was hard to believe even of a mortal king.

“What?” he said. “Just because I’m a fairy, I can’t know how to farm?”

She laughed and shook her head. “I guess it makes sense. It still surprises me, though.”

“You thought fairies wear fancy suits and dresses all the time?”

An image flashed into her mind of a small gray cat with a tuft of white at her throat, her legs tucked underneath her body and her tail flicking lazily as she slept in the sun. Emma shuddered, pulling her hand free from Lachlan’s so she could hug her middle. She scowled and shook her head.

“No, I don’t,” she said. Before he could say anything, she nodded toward the house they were approaching. “We’re here.”

“Where’s here?”

“Home.”

She opened the gate on her white picket fence and gestured for him to go first. He quickly scrutinized everything as he walked inside. The house was powder blue with white trim and pale yellow shutters. Blueberry bushes clustered around her front porch with myriad flowering bulbs beneath them. The cobblestone walkway that led to the house was flanked by four raised beds that took up most of the yard, with river rock and flagstones between them. The first sprouts of the Swiss chard, kale, and lettuce she’d recently seeded were pushing through the soil and she could see the tips of her asparagus starting to come back.

Lachlan paused, his lips slightly parted as he stared at her front garden. “This is…”

“Tiny?” She frowned, imagining how it must look compared to the wonders of his Springtime kingdom. “Mundane?”

“Wonderful,” he broke in before she could say more. “This is wonderful.”

“Why?” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Because it makes us more compatible?”

He chuckled. “I guess it does. But no, it’s just… wonderful. May I?” He squatted down, one hand poised above the soil.

Emma stepped forward her hands suddenly at her sides, ready to… do something. Knock him over, if she had to.

“No magic,” she said. “Giving or taking.”

His eyebrows drew closer as he scowled back at her. “It’s not always about giving or taking. Sometimes—the best times—it’s just about being.”

She felt her mouth drop open, but couldn’t think of a single thing to say. Instead, she watched as he gingerly burrowed his hands into the soil, turning his full attention to what he was doing, what he was experiencing. His brow smoothed, that slight smile she’d seen so often on his face returning. She liked that smile. And she loved that all it took to bring it out was a moment—this moment—with her garden.

He lifted some of the dirt and crumbled it between his fingers, his smile deepening. “This is excellent soil. It must have taken scores of years to get it like this.” He glanced up at her, an unspoken question in his eyes.

“My grandparents.” Suddenly, her throat felt tight, her eyes filled with moisture. She coughed lightly, turning away. “It’s my grandparents’ house. They gave it to me when they moved into an assisted living facility.” Emma visited as often as she could and constantly sent them pictures of the gardens and the cherished home she’d been entrusted with.

Lachlan rose, dusting off his hands. His smile turned into a gentle smirk.

“What?” she said, a bit of an edge to her voice.

“I was just thinking of something Finn said to me recently. ‘Mortals can’t rely on magic, so they instead turn to each other. They work together to achieve their common goals.’”

“Well, yeah.” She gestured to the gardens. “We get the job done, even if it’s not as flashy or quick as—”

“It’s wonderful.” He reached out and clasped her hands in his.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “You’re just saying that to try to make me like you.”

“I’m saying it because it’s true.” He tugged on her hands. A shiver of excitement raced up her spine as he pulled her closer. “But if I were just saying it to get you to like me… would it work?”