Page 80 of Until the Stars Fall

Pulling in a breath, I reached for the mug and removed its lid. The sharp aroma of coffee hit my nose as I lifted it to my lips. I closed my eyes and took a small sip, hiding my wince when it singed the tip of my tongue. Watching the fae coldly, I lowered the mug to my lap. “If you’d rather die, Lola, that can be arranged.”

I spent the rest of the morning pacing my rooms and staring out the windows. Then the palace tailor came in and measured me in more ways than I thought possible. He was an older fae, nice enough, and he was thankfully no fan of idle chitchat, so he went about his work in comfortable silence.

I had just lain back on the chaise and closed my eyes for a nap when the door to my room opened without warning. With a jolt, I sat upright. Connor strode in, and although he appeared unperturbed, with his hands buried in his pockets as usual, the muscle pulsing in his jaw betrayed his irritability. He didn’t say anything as he nudged the door closed and came to stand in front of me.

When he remained silent, looming over me with a steady, blank stare, I lifted my hands off my lap and asked, “Can I help you with something?”

He pressed his lips together into a tight line and closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. Still not looking at me, he said, “Care to tell me why you threatened one of the staff?”

Letting out a long sigh, I lowered myself back against the cushion and shut my eyes lazily. “I merely offered to fulfill her request.”

I tensed, waiting for a reprimand that didn’t come. Instead he let out a low, tired laugh. Cracking my eyes open, I peeked out at him and was shocked to find him lowering himself into the chair opposite me, shaking his head slowly.

“What’s so funny?” I asked, not entirely sure I wanted to know. No doubt he’d find some way to deride me.

“Laughing seemed better than yelling,” he said. I couldn’t argue with him there, though his chuckling was decidedly off-putting. He rubbed the back of his neck. “All laughter aside, though, I can’t have my future wife threatening the staff.”

Wife.The word grated on me more than I expected.

Be nice be nice be nice.

I ground my teeth together behind my smile.

“Speaking of the staff, dearest husband-to-be,” I said, drawing out the words as I twirled a strand of my hair around my finger. “Can I request someone else deliver meals and messages from now on?”

“Why? Because you might murder this one the next time she comes in?”

“Maybe,” I muttered under my breath. He cleared his throat. I glared at him and asked, “What? She said she’d rather be dead than have me as her queen. I’m more than happy to oblige her.”

His expression darkened as he studied me, and I shifted in my seat uneasily under his scrutiny. What was he looking for?

“What happened between you two?” he asked, his tone becoming almost gentle, as if he were truly concerned.

Explaining to Connor how I’d traded my mother’s favorite necklace so I could see Brennan—only to be rejected by him—was not something I wanted to do today. Or ever. So I shrugged. “Just have them send someone else, please?”

He contemplated my request for longer than seemed necessary before finally conceding. “Fine. Is there anything else I can do for my bride?”

I scowled. I’d been planning to ask for a deck of cards or some books or anything to help me pass the time in this fancy prison of mine, but then he’d gone and called methat.

“Yes. Find another nickname. That one annoys me.”

At that, he rose from his seat and closed the distance between us in two easy strides. I eyed him suspiciously as he knelt beside the chaise and took my hand in his. My breath hitched when he lifted it to his lips and kissed it tenderly.

Stars, why did he have to do that? And why did my body have to like it so much?

He lowered my hand to reveal a too-handsome smirk on that irritatingly attractive face of his. And I nearly melted when he said, “But then I’d have to find another way to make you squirm.”

CHAPTER 39

Connor

As ridiculous as Lieke’s request seemed, I couldn’t ignore the nagging feeling that something had happened between her and that female—before the whole death threat debacle. Regardless, there was no harm in making the request.

I could send a page down to the kitchens, but it had been too long since I’d visited our old cook, and I wasn’t sure I could trust anyone else to deliver this message.

Several staff eyed me curiously as I ventured down the back stairs. Maybe this was a mistake. My coming down here—even if this was my palace—would fuel the rumor mill even more, but no, this was something I had to do personally.

I pushed open the kitchen door and instantly smiled at the familiar smells. This had always been one of my favorite places to come when I was younger, before the war, before my father had accepted the throne, before everything had fallen apart. I had sat on that very stool, with Brennan beside me, listening to Mrs. Bishop tell all manner of stories. I missed those times dearly, but even if war hadn’t broken out, my getting older would have interfered with those visits all the same.

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