Page 44 of How to Keep a Fae

I smile. His eyes hold humor now, and I like that I put it there.

“My stepfather is good to her. He loves her. He would?—”

He raises a hand—I stop. “This is not about me and my mistakes. This is about you.”

I suck in a breath, suspecting this was coming, and then distracted by his barrage of revelations. His eyes bore into me. They see things beyond my comprehension. My father is enigmatic. But a tiny window opens, allowing me to peek inside at the inner man.

“The lives of fae, even lowly ones, are measured in centuries,” he says. “You have seen mere decades, and you must trust me when I say that only time prepares you for time.”

A weight settles on my chest. “And what of Jayga,” I say slowly.

“Do you like the warrior well?”

“He’s—” I scratch my jaw. “Jayga is unique. He talks a lot.”I shrug. “He’s annoying as fuck. But he’s also a good man. And he’s good for Adaline.”

“Good enough to tie yourself to for centuries?”

I see now where this talk is going. Jayga is human; he will fade, but the ramifications of his connection as Adaline’s mate will linger. I surmised as much even before I found out warriors can and do force omega heats to claim them.

“I’m a warrior,” I say. “A long life was not something I lingered on often.”

And then I would leave Adaline to suffer, just the same as if she lost Jayga through age.

I swallow down bile. Gods, I have been stumbling around blindly, seeing tiny pieces of a vast picture. I don’t want to hurt Adaline, but I have claimed her heart, careless of the life I lead and the consequences for her.

“I heard you knocked an orc out once,” he says.

My brows raise, and my head swings around. While the relevance of this is lost on me, I know instantly the skirmish he refers to. The incident has gained ever greater embellishment in the warrior hall. You would think no one had ever punched an orc the way they carry on.

“I was wearing metal gauntlets,” I say by way of explanation.

His lips twitch. “Hmm.”

Why is he smiling?

Why is that little noise that leaves his lips the same one I do?

“Hitting an orc hard enough to achieve that should have broken every finger in your hand. That you had the tenacity to try speaks of much.”

“Maybe he was already falling,” I say, feeling uncomfortable and unsure why. My thoughts skitter about, bouncingbetween all the revelations of the past few moments and landing upon none.

“He was not already falling. Not according to the report. According to all the reports I have read—that the king has likewise read—you are one of the best warriors born in many centuries.” Pride shines in his eyes and carries in his voice.

My thoughts are still bouncing and refuse to land.

“The king tested you when you were still a babe.”

The sound of my beating heart is loud in my ears.

“Not all imperials are female. I am a testament to that. And males do not mature in the way the females do.”

I’m the son of a breeder. More often, that is how I see myself, pushing aside my imperial father’s side. Imperial? Is that what he thinks I am? “I’m a warrior.”

“You are undoubtedly more.”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

“It means the chance of you dying in battle is infinitesimally small.” A brief smile touches his lips. “Protect your neck well. If someone removes your head, not much can be done about that... It means one day, the king will call upon you to do more than you do now. It means you are yet young and should choose wisely how you mate. Adaline is fae like you. But a feeder. Her life would be shorter. But when the two are put together, the passage of time will change for both.”

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