Page 11 of This Midsummer Heart
“Yes, you did. You looked at my mare andsmirked.“ She jabs her finger into the mottled sunshine stretched between us. “I was the one who picked her out. I certainly haven’t kept her at my side out of some misplaced fondness foryou.”
Slowly, my head tilts as I study the pure white mare and the faint gray spots on her muzzle. No, it couldn’t be. Could it?
“Titaine,” I say in mock surprise, my mouth stretching into the very smirk she accuses me of. “Did you bring my engagement gift to you on this journey? I had no idea you were so sentimental!”
Titaine’s cheeks flush scarlet so quickly, it’s hard to hold back a laugh. “You couldn’t even be bothered to find a suitable gift. I should’ve known then what kind of bond-mate you’d be.”
My eyes narrowed as I search for the memory. “I found her and purchased her for you.”
“You purchased her, yes.” Titaine’s gaze is barbed but brief as it touches me. She suddenly has to adjust something in her saddle pack. Not suspicious at all.
Understanding makes my face soften in surprise. “You tricky fae minx. You made methinkI’d thought of the gift myself—you even steered me toward the horse you wanted!”
Titaine clucks her tongue like I am some naughty child, just before she hops gracefully into the saddle, her sun-glazed wings fluttering to give her more loft. “You would’ve gotten me that awful bejeweled box you couldn’t stop looking at.”
“Awful?” I spring to my feet. “You giftedmethat box. A box you thought was—what? Tasteless?”
“You said it,” Titaine answers airily. “Youlovedthat gift.”
Trying to shut out her insults, I climb into my own horse’s saddle, intending to ignore her completely. Yet I can’t help but glance at Titaine’s beloved white mare.
She kept her. She was enraged enough by my dalliance to break the bond we had, but she kept my engagement gift.
Oh, Titaine. You do care, don’t you? At least you once did.
A half smile lifts away that tension in my jaw. If she really did care for me once before, then she might do so again. And I—well, is it too much to ask that I might actually be forgiven?
As I follow the gilded outline of her transparent wings, I find myself wondering whether that might be too much to hope for. For there’s still that one, tiny detail I have to contend with.
Titaine hates me.
Is the journey to Nox long enough for that to soften into dislike? For surely there’s no road on this planet that is long enough for Titaine to love me again. But dislike? Well, that would be an improvement. After all, I’ve plenty of dislike for her.
Love her, though? I never stopped. Not even when we were still bonded, and I realized she didn’t love me back.
My lady Titaine, you always were cold enough to stop even an elf’s heart.
Soon, the only sign of humans is in the form of farmhouses and little hamlets as quiet as ghost towns at this hour, when the farmers are still hard at work in the fields. Every now and then, the wind carries the tantalizing scents of lunch being prepared in the little houses.
“We should stop in,” I suggest, taking in a lungful of what is almost certainly roasting meat and berry pie. Across a field of tall sunflowers, their cheery faces bent towards the retreating light, I spot the little farmhouse that must be the source.
“We have provisions,” Titaine snaps. “More than we may need.”
“Strange, I seem to recall some pouty little fairy in the market telling me to buy less.”
“You bought enough cheese to open a small shop!”
I try to shoot a cool look her way, but she chooses just then to urge her horse onward. “I seem to recall you winning that argument,” I call after her.
She doesn’t reply. Typical Titaine, thinking she can just ignore me. I’d nearly forgotten she was like this, dismissive and thinking herself above everything and everyone, and not just because she is Houselord of the fae.
Vaguely, I notice that we’ve just passed a Y-shaped joining of paths—not quite a crossroads, but a subtle country juncture. Titaine leads us on confidently, as if she’s been here a hundred times.
Should I stop and check the map? She’ll only get further ahead. Still, I’m not sure I fully trust her sense of direction. Fae are very “everywhere is somewhere” when it comes to getting lost, and Titaine is no exception.
“Better we stop now and save our supplies for when we pass through the wilds,” I suggest as my gelding Raven pulls abreast of her mare.
Again, Titaine ignores me.
