Page 3 of Until the Stars Fall

It was no lie either—though my definition of careful likely differed from hers.

I had grown up in this palace and on its grounds, exploring and observing. I knew my way around as well as anyone else, and I had places I liked to go, places no one else ventured. Every season the Durands held a party like this for all the fae nobles, and I had attended every single one of them. Even if only in secret.

Prince Brennan may have walked away from our friendship, but on these evenings, from among the trees, I could pretend that maybe—just maybe—I still had a future with him.

Tonight, though, I refused to simply watch and dream.

Tonight, I would take a chance.

Tonight, I would talk to him.

Once all the bread loaves were prepared and left to rise, I waved to Mrs. Bishop and headed straight for my room. No, I didn’t plan to stay there all night as required, but there was no way I was going to wear my flour-dusted, butter-smeared clothing tonight. While I knew the unlikelihood of Brennan showing up at our old hiding spot, I refused to look like a simple servant.

Even if that was all I was.

Back in the servants’ hallway, I nodded and gave a tight smile to two fae maids as they hurried past me to take on the duties of the humans who would be confined to their quarters for the evening. If they were upset about this arrangement, it didn’t show on their faces. Inside my room, I closed the door and leaned back against it, letting my body crumple under the exhaustion. My arms ached from the morning’s work in the kitchen, and part of me wanted to fall into my bed and rest. Stars knew the extra sleep would do me good after the week-long preparation these parties demanded of the kitchen staff.

But no.

As tempting as that was, I couldn’t.

I pulled open the doors of my mother’s old wardrobe and couldn’t help but smile at the sight of the colorful array of clothing hanging inside. Soft velvets. Wisps of silks. The remnants of my parents’ life before the war when humans and fae had lived in harmony and prospered alike. I had once asked Mother why she’d hoarded them since she’d been forced to wear the drab staff uniform. She had offered a one-word answer:Hope.

Marin had once insisted I seek some sort of closure by tossing out all of Mother’s belongings, but Marin didn’t understand grief. She didn’t understand me. I didn’t keep her clothes because I couldn’t let Mother go; I kept them out of the same hope my mother had held onto. A hope that life in Emeryn and beyond might go back to how it once was, that one day fae and humans would live together as equals, partners, true neighbors.

What would it take to make that happen?

What could possibly convince the fae to stop blaming the humans for the war?

What might encourage the humans to forgive the fae for the oppression that came with the treaty?

My gaze landed on the simple white dress tucked along the left wall of the wardrobe. Mother’s wedding gown.

Marriage.

Love.

“Love can conquer all evils, sweet girl.”

My mother had said that so many times, and I’d believed her.

Until love hadn’t protected her from death.

While I’d never believed the healers’ claims regarding the cause of her death, I couldn’t deny how the light in her spirit had dimmed when my father was killed on that distant battlefield.

With a shake of my head, I pushed the past out of my mind and pulled out the dress I had selected for tonight. It was a simple gown of navy-colored satin overlaid with delicate lace. I slid out of my work clothes, leaving the dirty garments piled on the floor as I quickly moved to the small basin of water in the corner. Dipping the washcloth into the too-cold water, I washed away the day’s sweat and grime with the amber soap Marin had given me for my birthday last year.

I didn’t have time to wash my hair, but I was able to brush out the tangles at least. Using the mirror above my desk, I carefully pinned up my blonde waves, leaving a few tendrils to fall here and there. A pinch of my cheeks to give them color and a swipe of rose pigment across my lips, and I was ready for the dress. Carefully I stepped into it, lifting it over my hips and bust before sliding my arms into the cap sleeves. Thankfully the dress had a low backline, which allowed me to secure the buttons without assistance.

When I dropped the hem of the dress back to the floor, the reality of what I was about to do settled into my stomach. I clasped my hands over my gut in a futile attempt to quell my nerves. Slowly I drew in a breath and counted backward from ten before exhaling.

I could do this. I had to give my heart a chance, and tonight was as good as any other.

Yes, I might walk away with a bruised heart, but I would wake up tomorrow knowing I had at least tried.

CHAPTER 2

Connor

---