Page 128 of Bride of the Fae Prince

I’m not sure what to say to such an enormous proclamation, so I swipe my hair behind my ear, my gaze fleeing to my lap, and mumble, “Thank you.”

His answering expression is half-amused, running his fingers through my hair with a gentle touch. Then the smile vanishes, replaced by a firm jaw. “I’m not going to be cruel to you in front of other fae anymore.”

I look up, and both protest and hope rise in my chest. “But—but if the High King knows the truth . . .” I stop, unsure of what the High King might find out. “If . . . if the High King doesn’t think that I’m your pet, that you take our marriage seriously, wouldn’t that change things?”

“It’ll probably make him more determined than ever to take you from me,” he replies, that hardness not leaving his jaw. “Butyou don’t deserve to be treated like that, even if it’s an act. You’re my wife, Stella, and I want to give you every dignity before my father, before this court. It’s time they saw you for who you are. A woman whose soul and goodness shine brighter than the sun.”

I blink against the sudden urge to cry. And then Istop.I stop stopping myself, stop bottling myself up. I press a hand to my mouth, lean forward so my head rests on his shoulder, and crumple into tears.

He stiffens, and then wraps both arms tightly around me, holding me close. “Stella?” There’s shock in his voice, but he seems to set it aside, pressing me closer and stroking me softly. I curl into a tiny little ball on his lap, and with his arms around me—even though I cry—I can breathe easier than I have in a long while.

Safe. Home.

I don’t want to leave.

“I’m so sorry if I . . .” He trails off, pressing a kiss to the top of my head.

“It’s alright.” I’m almost laughing through my tears. The poor man is so bewildered and here I am, unable to reassure him that everything is fine! “That only . . . that means a great deal to me.”

“I didn’t know it hurt you this much,” he says, remorse heavy in his voice. “You’ve taken so much in stride. I know it’s been tremendous pressure, and I knew it taxed you. I’m sorry, Stella. It’s done, it’s past. Never again. I’m so sorry.”

I relax against Ash’s chest and shoulder, surrounded by his comforting warmth. And I think . . .

I don’t want to leave him.

We stay like that for a sweet while until I twist my neck to peer up at him. His eyes are closed, his breathing steady, but at my movement, they open slightly, looking down at me.

“Tell me a thought,” he murmurs. “Or I’ll kiss you.”

My lips curve, and there are many things I could say. Many thoughts fly through my brain, ready to be spoken and shared. But I close my mouth tight. I look up at him expectantly.

Waiting.

His eyes widen, then narrow, almost playfully. His lips part, and his throat bobs. “Last chance,” he says, and it’s almost a growl. “A thought, or a kiss.”

I push back a little on his chest, lifting my head so we’re level. And then I just smile mischievously at him. His eyes darken.

He surges upward, one hand catching the back of my head and pulling me into a sudden, glorious kiss. I close my eyes, slipping one arm around his neck, the other into his hair as I kiss him back. I think I might be getting better at this, at how to angle my mouth, how to move my lips against his, and each passing second is sweeter than the one before. I’m lost, and heavens, I never want to be found. Not when he holds me like this, touches me with such infinite gentleness and fierce passion.

He bends his knees slightly, bringing his legs up so I’m forced to lean into him even more. “I want you closer,” he murmurs between kisses. “Ineedyou closer.”

“You’re making me dizzy again,” I say, half giggling, not even opening my eyes.

His response is almost pained in its earnestness. “Andyou’remaking me happy again.”

Sothisis what marriage can be. This is what goodness can be had on the other side of promises and commitment. Marriage was always my one duty, my one purpose. It was not something to eagerly anticipate. My husband’s attentions were not something to covet. It was a lifetime sentence to unhappiness—and one I was prepared to accept.

I think of my four sisters, three of them wed to men who won’t ever ask their thoughts, or pursue them, or care for them. Oneof them, perhaps, will have a man who is genuinely kind and respectful, a man she might one day come to love.

And though I’m in a new and terrifying world where powerful forces want me dead, I pity my sisters more than anything. They’ll never know what it is to be kissed like Ash kisses me right now. They’ll never taste the glorious beauty of what passioncanbe. All they will know is a life of being set aside, trampled, and unloved.

I regret every resentful thought I had about them. No matter if I don’t even survive the week. In a few short days, I’ve lived more life, experienced more goodness, more beauty, than they can even dream of.

A little moan catching in my throat, I pull Ash closer, and I let myself imagine a life together. So unexpected. So improbable. That a fae heir and a human girl could forge something new and beautiful, something bright and glimmering.

I want this to be my future.

I want to fall asleep with Ash’s arms around me, to wake up to his kisses, hear his laughter when I try to choke down mothweed milk. I want his smiles forever. I want to see him as High King.

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