Page 41 of Twisted Gift
A ghost of a smile touches his lips. “Of course.”
“That still holds,” I say. “As much as thinking about the past is scary and confusing the hell out of me, the future is clear. At least, I want it to be.”
His responding exhale is long, as if he had been holding his breath—as if he’s been waiting for me to say those words. “So, we don’t give up on each other,” he proposes.
“We don’t give up on each other,” I agree.
Tristan presses his lips against my forehead, but the intense look in his eyes shows me that he’d probably prefer pinning me against the wall and kissing me until my head spins.
Hell, I’d prefer that, too.
“Are you ready?” he asks in a hushed tone.
I smile without saying a word.
He nods, offering me a thoughtful expression. “We’ll get through it, Rory. This is a good thing. Try to remember that.”
I laugh, but it sounds forced. “It’s a good thing if it works.” I ball my hands into fists, willing them to stop shaking. If this is going to work, the fae need to see me as calm and confident, not scared shitless.
Tristan reaches for my hands, prying them open with ease, and laces his fingers through mine. “Itwillwork. There are more fae who are tired of living in fear than there are who hate the opposite side.”
Even if he’s right, which he probably is, that doesn’t mean one of the hateful fae—on either side—won’t go rogue and start a fight.
I exhale slowly, hoping that will calm my jumpy nerves. “We’re having a party here on Friday.” Not exactly a smooth conversation transition, but I need something to ease the tension in the room.
Tristan chuckles as if he’s amused. “You’re throwing a party?”
“Well, Max is. I’m just providing the venue, food, and booze.”
He nods.
“It’s Oliver’s birthday,” I add.
“I see.”
“You can come. I mean, if you want.”
His lips twitch as his eyes seem to read mine. “I’ll do my best.”
I leave it at that, and just in time. Voices filter through the door as groups of dark and light fae start filing into the pub.
It’s time.
Tristan and I make our way back to the pub and to the front of the room with Nikolai and Max flanking us. If it weren’t such a dangerous and terrifying moment, it would be epic as hell.
Once everyone is here—well, everyone that was willing to show up—I survey the room. It’s quite the sight. The strip of space separating where the light and dark fae are standing is a clear reminder of why we’re here. There are murmurs of peace among the crowd. Several light fae speak about how great it would be if it works.
A dark fae chimes in. “Yeah,” he agrees, “ifit works.”
I tune into another whispered conversation between two dark fae about how this must be a step in the right direction.
“Tristan would only be here if this meeting had the potential to mean good things for us,” one of them says, and the other nods in agreement.
My stomach flutters.Thisis the type of thing I need to hear. These are the people we want around, working to show the fae who might be skeptical that the only reason we’re here is to make things better between the light and dark.
While some fae who’ve kept quiet and to themselves look concerned, and some even a little angry, I’m relieved that the overall energy in the room is optimistic. That means there’s a chance we can pull this off, that not everyone is against coming together, or they wouldn’t be here, packed almost shoulder-to-shoulder in a room with people they’ve been taught to hate.
I take a deep breath and meet Tristan’s gaze. He nods once, stepping back to give me the floor to initiate the meeting.
