Page 30 of Crowned By the Fae King

"Is something the matter?" he asked, pitching his voice low.

I bit my lip. "Soulmates can't force each other into bargains, right?"

He nodded, watching me with an unreadable expression.

"Okay." I closed my eyes and nodded, more to myself than to him, anxiety making my chest tight. "Then I'm sorry," I said, all in a rush, looking back up at him.

He went still. It wasn't like a person standing still—not like a human. His whole body slid towards the motionlessness of a waiting predator, a stillness that spoke of liquid strength instead of rigid startlement.

Before he could collect himself, I said, "I was a bitch today. I was working off zero sleep and a remarkably shitty couple of weeks, but that's not an excuse for treating you and everyone else to the sharp edge of my temper." I swallowed, starting to sweat from the stress of putting myself in a position of weakness. I didn't know him. I had no idea how he'd respond.

It was still worth doing.

"I was nasty to you about my family, about you trying to make sure I knew my options, and about the touching thing," I said, forging on. "All of that was unnecessary. This was a massive shock to you on an already stupidly stressful day, and I wasn't nice about it at all. I was mean to you, to Danica… to pretty much everyone I talked to today. So I'm sorry. And I thought maybe you'd like to know that."

A trembling sensation took hold in my chest, my heart trying to race but held at its pace by Cass' iron will. Cass reached up for a moment, like he was going to touch my cheek, then lowered his hand. "I…" he started, his voice rough. He took a breath. "I really appreciate you telling me that." The corner of his mouth flipped up. "Though I feel I ought to warn you that apologies are even more enticing than thanks for most fae, and I'm no exception. Are you trying to befriend me, after all?" He sounded hopeful.

I bit my lip again, breathing a laugh with a smile tugging at my mouth. "I like you, Cass. I like having a bit of fire in my interactions, too, but we can have that without me being pissy for no reason," I said, looking up at the shadow of his face. "Can we start over, maybe?" I asked, trying to search his expression in the darkness. "I let go of being bitter about you not knowing about me, you let go of me being an ass to you about it, and we start out at neutral instead of in opposition?"

"I thought you didn't like bargains," he said. I could hear the smile in his voice.

I put my hand on the doorframe, leaning some of my weight to the side. "You're fae, though, and you're my soulmate," I said. "I'd like to get to know you, and you've been nothing but nice about me cannonballing into your life. I'll make an exception for you."

He made a considering sound, then set his hand on the opposite side of the doorframe. "I'm glad you 'cannonballed' into my life, presuming you mean finding me and refusing to leave, despite all my flaws. Still. If you want to start over, let's start over," Cass said. His wings moved with a metallic whisper as he got down on one knee, the movement bringing him closer to me and illuminating his face.

He was smiling like someone coming home at the end of a long day, a warm expression. That emotion seeped into me, the tension in my shoulders slipping away and relaxation spreading warm fingers along my ribs.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," he said, leaning his head against the doorframe. His ears tilted towards me in quiet focus. "My name is Xarcassah Marys, and I'm your soulmate."

I breathed a soft laugh, helpless in the face of that ease. I leaned my head against the doorframe, too, smiling down at him from inches away. On one knee, his face was still at the height of my collarbone. "The pleasure's all mine, your splendor," I said, my own relief flooding my veins as I spoke. "My name is Quyen Anh, and I've come a long way to meet you."

"I really don't like that name," he said. I started laughing in disbelief, startled into it, and his eyes went wide. "No, no, oh gods no—I meant—fuck, not your name, your name is lovely, I meant the 'splendor' thing—"

I kept laughing, unable to stop, all the difficulty of the past weeks melting away in the face of Cass desperately trying to backpedal.

"Quyen," he said, halfway to a pleading whine. "You don't have to laugh quite so hard—"

I sprawled back against the wall next to the doorframe and melted to the floor, laughing so hard tears came to my eyes. "Holy fuck, your face!" I leaned my head back, closing my eyes. "I thought you were a flirt. Do you put your foot in your mouth often, splendor?"

He groaned and clonked his head back down against the doorframe, looking down at me from inches away. "When it comes to beautiful women I'd like to impress? Unfortunately, that all too often seems to be the case." His warm breath stirred my hair, the promise of the heat of his touch.

The words left a warm glow settling onto me. I'd seen him looking, but looking was different from saying something like that out loud. Words made it real.

"You don't have to impress me," I said, getting my laughter under control. "You're rich, important, wildly powerful, royal, and, like, literally the definition of tall, dark, and handsome." I shook my head, snorting a soft laugh as I considered it. "You're plenty impressive already."

I turned so I could look up into his face, hyperaware of the exact measurements of the distance between us. The heat of his body radiated against me, a faint halo of warmth that made me want to lean into him. He was so close—and so far, the handspan of distance too far to close without an invitation. Fuck, I hoped I got that invitation. As overwhelming as touching him had been, it had left me with a craving for more. I could learn how to have two bodies if one of them was his.

Cass joined me on the ground, sprawling out on his side and supporting his weight on one arm, putting his eyes level with mine. His feathers made soft tinging sounds against the floor, settling into place. "Is that a mortal phrase?" he asked. "'Tall, dark, and handsome'?"

His smile was so easy to fall into. Even in the dark, he was worth looking at, the deep shadows emphasizing the strength of his body and the gleaming danger of his wings. I was struck, again, with the thought that he looked like some sort of war-god; the sort of person meant to be on a battlefield.

He was a healer, though. Even though Vad had called him battle-trained, and even though his litany of things he could do was terrifying and his automatic defense of me came with thorns and earthquakes, he didn't seem like the kind of man who reveled in bloodshed. It was an interesting pairing—one I wanted to explore.

"It's a pretty popular one," I said, a beat later than I probably should have spoken. "Not here, though?"

His expression went rueful. "I've never heard it before, but that's not surprising. I'm not exactly the picture of fae beauty," he said, lifting his shoulder in a shrug. "Our culture values elegance and subtlety, and I'm not that. In coloration, too, I hardly hold much interest. Brown and darker brown." Cass shrugged again. It looked self-conscious. "Of the two of us, you'll make the far better impression when it comes to beauty."

"We're quite the pair, aren't we?" I leaned my head back against the wall with a sigh. The night felt timeless, but I knew it wasn't. We'd have to go to bed soon if I wanted to be at all functional tomorrow, but I didn't have it in me to get up quite yet. "I guess the 'opposites attract' thing is true."

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