Page 14 of This Midsummer Heart
I probably shouldn’t think of her as even that. She effectively banished me from her life when she broke the bond between us and the treaty between our Houses.
Whatever tender feelings I was tiptoeing on the edge of vanish when I see her set a sizable purse on her bed. That can’t be real. Can it? Was I wrong in my estimates of the House of Fetes’ wealth? I was supposed to be bankrupting them—delivering the final blow to a rival House.
That bag of coins says otherwise. It’s yet another thing I’ve been wrong about. This, at least, I can remedy.
I duck under the low doorway of my room, crossing the sitting room between us in a handful of strides. “Let me see that.”
“Auberon!” Titaine whirls as I snatch the embroidered coin purse from atop her bed. Though she reaches for it, fluttering her wings with all her might, she has no chance of grasping it as I dangle it above my head.
The coins clink gently as they shift in their myriad little compartments. It doesn’t sound like she brought much after all. I frown as I examine the bag. It’s more like a coin belt, rolled into the shape of a purse. When did the fae start using such designs? I’m not sure the straps are long enough to secure to my scabbard’s belt.
The embroidered flowers aren’t exactly my style, either.
Returning to my own room, I begin to shake out all the contents, sensing the threads of a fragile enchantment snapping. Titaine is right behind me, spouting off about how villainous I am.
“Just what do you think you’re doing? That’s my money—you have no right! It belongs to the House of Fetes!”
I shake my head at the meager assortment of coins, some from different currencies we could use along our way. Truly, I succeeded in bankrupting the House of Fetes with my scheme.
As I count the coins, I began to unbutton my vest.
“What are you doing now?” Titaine demands.
“Relax. I’m still wearing my mail.”
“Pointless, sleeveless mail,” she grumbles. I ignore her.
I begin slipping them inside the hidden pockets sewn inside my vest. Now that my plan has backfired, this victory over the House of Fetes feels hollow. Or maybe it’s more than that. After inheriting generations of feuding and competition for dominance in Laufee, losing the House of Elves’ only worthy opponent leaves me feeling a touch directionless.
It used to be easy to lead, before and after my mate-bond with Titaine. Whatever would irritate—or better yet, actively harm the House of Fetes—was always the right choice. Now I have none of that. Not even a gorgeous fae bride to warm my bed and make the idle hours pleasant.
My task now complete, I begin to gather the rest of my things, only to find an angry little fairy blocking me.
Titaine’s hands are on her hips. “That’s my money. Give it back.”
“You don’t even handle your own accounting. It’s better off with me.”
“I don’t handle my own books because it irritates me, not because I’m incapable! Give it back, Auberon.”
“Then I’m saving you the irritation.”
“You’re the irritation!” She huffs dramatically, knocking my arm away when I reach for the pack atop the rustic wooden dresser. “If you don’t give it back, I’ll place an enchantment on you.”
“Darling, do you really think you have the magic to waste on such petty things?”
“I have more than you could ever dream of.” There it is—that twitch of the muscle along her temple, slightly tilting her brow. She’s furious, and not wearing a glamour to hide it.
What a fine way to start the day.
“Do your worst,” I challenge her, pushing her arm aside. “Better yet, get ready to leave. I’m not interested in breaking fast with a bunch of wild fae who hate me.”
Her eyes grow round. I spot a double twitch at her temple. “They’re our hosts!” she hisses. “How dare you disrespect them! They didn’t need to help us.”
“My dear Titaine, have you forgotten that everything is transactional? It’s a lesson you taught me. They helped us because they want a free ride to Nox once we get the runeships back in order.”
I expect her to shout at me. Instead, Titaine regards me for one long moment, in which I can almost feel her rage simmering. Then she turns and glides toward the front door without so much as a huffy sigh.
Titaine, you’ve changed. I think I liked my temperamental old adversary better.
