Page 51 of Bride of the Fae Prince

His kiss surprises me,enough that I scramble away when he lets me go. Part of me hates myself for not being bold enough to stay. It’s better, though, to not indulge. I’ve onlymostlyforgiven him for tonight. Partially because of his explanation, but more so because of the sheer devastation on his face.

“These are your chambers, then?” I ask and swallow a yawn before I betray how exhausted I am after this long day and all those tears.

“They’re our chambers, yes,” he replies, and something about the way he says it makes my neck turn warm.

I spin toward him, clasping my hands behind my back. “Well? Are you going to give me a tour,my lord?”

He winces at the title, making me wonder if he adopts his princely persona so thoroughly that he doesn’t even realize the inconsistencies. Nevertheless, he gets to his feet, which only serves to remind me how tall he is, and gestures for me to follow him.

The room we stand in has couches arranged in a semi-circle facing six curtained window arches. The tables between each couch are wooden, maintaining their natural color and shape and even a few leaves, but they’re polished with something that gives them a lovely sheen.

Two gnarled tree-things flank the door. I take them to be the fae version of a coat rack, because when Ash gets up, he removes his overcoat and flings it onto one of the branches. My eyes might be teasing me, because I could have sworn the branch extended just a fraction, as though tocatchthe overcoat.

“This is where I welcome any guests I choose to receive,” Ash says, gesturing at the couches where we were just sitting. White walls are accented by roughened, dark wood beams and punctuated by something like climbing ivy. My heart thrills at the sight of the strange but beautiful plant. Once I’m settled, my first order of business will be to explore the plants of Faerieland. “It is also for leisure, should you like that. I haven’t had much use for leisure, and I haven’t had much use for guests either, so this room isn’t used very often. You’re welcome to do as you please, though you should be aware that this is considered a public space.”

“So don’t wear only my shift out here. Understood.”

He gives a surprised chuckle, but when I glance at him, he’s already looked away, giving me nothing to focus my gaze upon except a long, pointed ear that seems a little redder than it was a moment ago. “As I said, you may do as you like. I merely intend to inform you. In there is the dining hall, for taking meals.” He points through an arched doorway at what appears to be part of a long table. Then he continues toward the back of the quarters, to a hallway with several doors. He stops at the first door and pushes it open. “This is my study, where I spend most of my time.”

I peer around his bulk to discover a smallish chamber with bookshelves lining every wall, a shocking amount of the bookshelves’ occupants scattered like a child’s discarded toys across the floor. Papers flutter on the desk at the center of the room, anchored down by ink pots, quills, and other detritus.

It looks like a tornado blew through the space.

His steward must keep the rest of the quarters clean but isn’t allowed to touch Ash’simportant documents.

“That is quite the judgmental face,” Ash remarks dryly, pulling the door shut and cutting off my view. “At this rate, I might be forced to ban you from my study. I can’t endure your pretty face set so critically.”

My cheeks heat, both at his unexpected compliment and that my thoughts were so obvious. I tighten my clasped hands behind my back and bounce on the balls of my feet, saying nothing and trying to look as innocent as possible.

Ash narrows one eye at me, then continues his tour, pointing out the next door as the bathing chamber, and leading to the final door in the hallway. “Andthisis the door to our private quarters.”

He pushes open the door. It’s a very large room, with another sitting area to the left beside a great big window covered by a gauzy white curtain. I nearly gasp at the sight of flowering vines draping down the wall like a blanket, though the blossoms are all closed for the night. It’s easy to imagine taking tea and breakfast here while staring out the window at whatever lies beyond.

Maybe Icanmake a life here.

If the High King doesn’t kill me first.

That’s when I survey the rest of the room and notice the large bed to the right, with a rich green coverlet and white embroidery. More gauzy white fabric twisted with silver ivy drapes the four posters.

My throat goes suddenly dry, and when I peek at Ash, he’s not looking at me. His long ears are pink again. Why does it excite me to see him flustered? Perhaps it feels a little bit like comeuppance for how he treated me earlier. Is there something I can say to embarrass him further?

“This is where we will sleep tonight?” I ask.

The color of his ears deepens as he clears his throat. “You may sleep here if you like. I will be in my study for the duration of the night, catching up. But I thought you might prefer to see your room.”

I blink and realize there’s yet another door at the far end of the room. Why does my stomach sink? Did I think Ash would hold me in his arms every night as I fell asleep? Now that I set my mind to it, it’s a ridiculous notion. He even said yesterday that he doesn’t need sleep like I do. Of course I will be sleeping alone.

It’s better this way. I’m used to this.

He pushes open the door. Of all the rooms, this is the one that I love the most. It’s octagonal—odd, but I can’t help but like the character it has—with windows on one half of the octagon overlooking a beautiful garden and waterfall. The furnishings are simple, but elegant. A large, downy-soft bed, with a coverlet of many beautiful blossoms and all different colors woven together, rests in the center of the room, its headboard set against a wall completely covered in vines. All the air leaves my lungs.

My lips part slowly at first, then split into an enormous grin. “It’s—”

But Ash’s finger falls to my lips suddenly, his eyes darting around the space. I swallow my words, trepidation washing away the awe and excitement of the moment before. Is something wrong?

He frowns, pulling his finger away from me, as he prowls silently across the room. I watch, not twitching a single muscle,as he shoves his hand behind one of the pillows on the bed and . . .grabssomething.

It squeaks.

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