Page 4 of This Midsummer Heart
At once, I lose my grip on my glamour—and my composure. I stare at him hard, searching for a way to parse his words. They couldn’t be about Robin and Vervaine, could they? After all this time—after Auberon’s little trick, making me fall for an enchanted human with the appearance of a donkey, just to humiliate me—he hasn’t changed.
Auberon is heartless. And even if he wasn’t, this is hardly the way to bring it up. He’s never forgiven me for breaking the bond between us, and with it, the treaty between the House of Fetes and House of Elves.
I play with the chipped handle of my teacup, trying to appear cool again, even though I am seething. “Vervaine will go nowhere without me.”
“Sure of that, are you?” He taps the table, drawing attention to his lack of beverage. Thanks to his stormy expression, no one has even dared to approach to take his order. When I glance at the bar, the alewife has already vanished up the stairs behind it.
Has Auberon earned himself some reputation I don’t know of?I watch him with from beneath my lashes.Don’t know how to play nice without me, do you?
“I’m sure,” I answer. “A pity you don’t have room for me on one of your runeboats.”
Auberon laughs harshly. “If I did, I’d be tempted to toss you into the Diam Sea.”
“You couldn’t if you tried.”
“Believe that, do you?”
“I still have my magic,” I say, lifting my cup as if in a toast. “Do you?”
I don’t need to see his hand to know it’s clenched into a fist. Auberon never had much use for magic, but even though he could not command it, it’s clear now that it was still a part of him. Of course he feels the loss of it, as we all do.
“That would explain your hasty departure,” I muse over my tea. I pause, taking a long drink just to let him stew. “What do you think, Auberon? If the runeboats fail halfway to the City of Nox, will your elves have enough magic to make the rest of the journey?” I cluck my tongue in disapproval. “You elves were always better shipbuilders and warriors than wielders of magic. I’m surprised you haven’t tried to steal more of my people from the House of Fetes.”
“Puk came to me willingly.”
I roll my eyes. “Igiftedyou a fete servant to tend to you. Don’t make it sound like you won him over with your infamous charm.”
“I wonyouover with it,“ he says, dropping his voice. Did he just lean closer? “Isn’t that a greater achievement than a mere goodfellow?”
“I’ve met Puk, remember? There’s no comparison. If you’ve truly won his loyalty, then I applaud you.”
“What is this about, Titaine?” Auberon asks, raising his voice slightly. “If you want a place on my ships for you and your people—a veryfewof your people—you’ll have to explain to the others you’re leaving them behind. It almost would be worth it just for that. But I find I require somethingmore.”
Every muscle in my body tenses.
“Ask me nicely,” he practically purrs.
”Iambeing nice.”
“Then how about groveling?” A half smile contorts the lines of his strong jaw, brewing shadows that only add to his obvious malice towards me. I suck in a breath through my teeth.
I won’t grovel. I told myself I wouldn’t. But which do I hate more, groveling to Auberon or losing what’s left of my magic and my House?
I close my eyes. “Please, Auberon.”
When he does not reply, I peel open my lids, fearing whatever gloating expression he’ll be wearing.
Instead, his dark eyebrows are high, revealing new creases on his forehead.
“You asked me to grovel,” I offer weakly.
“I don’t think that was groveling.” Auberon leans back in his chair. “That soundedsincere.My, Titaine, should I be worried about you and your House?”
“Worry about your own House,” I snap.
Auberon smirks in rejoinder. Morgana’s magic, how I hate that smirk! “There she is.”
Scoffing, I turn my head away, wishing I could look anywhere else. In my peripheral vision, I still watch him—as one watches a scorpion or a snake.
