Page 6 of This Midsummer Heart
“And yet you still think I go too far.”
“Youaregoing too far,“ the puk replies, very firmly. There is enough rebuke in his tone to almost make me flinch.
When he speaks his next words, I actually do flinch.
“If you were harboring any hope of reuniting with Titaine, you’re about to lose it for good. She’ll never forgive you for this.”
I try to laugh lightly, my face a little tighter as I keep it pointed at the window. “Titaine doesn’t forgive. I think we’re all aware of that by now. There is no chance we would ever be together again.”
“That’s where I think you’re wrong.”
As much as I want to hide whatever feelings my face would betray, I find myself wheeling to face Robin. “What do you mean?”
Robin’s smile is tight-lipped. “You held a fae heart once. You should know how fickle our hearts can be—how changing. You think she would never forgive you. It is the elves who are slow to change.”
He isn’t wrong. I’ve fought many a bloody battle, all because my people were unwilling to change their minds. Even with wood elf and dark elf heritage in equal amounts, and proving myself in battle after battle, it took years to unify the elves. Even now, there are stubborn holdouts dotting the Western and Middle Cross.
“I know Titaine’s heart,” I say, “and it is cold, and obstinate. The only person who ever had Titaine’s heart is Titaine herself.”
“Peculiar, isn’t it? I think she’d say the same about you.”
I run my fingers back through my hair, dislodging the short, dark locks rather than straightening them. They hang over my forehead, almost covering my eyes. Once I am in Nox, will I be able to grow it long again, like the country elves in their forests and swamps? I’ve always preferred to keep it close-cropped, still battle-ready after all this time. It’s only due to the all-consuming planning of this great move that it has grown as long as it is now. It suits me, though.
Oh, yes, I am indeed fond of myself, but not overly much like Titaine accuses. I would not be the leader I am if I did not believe in myself and have confidence.
Ithasbeen a long time since I’ve thought of myself as handsome, though. Logically, I know I am. I see how the elven maids smile at me, or catch snatches of them gossiping about me, not caring whether I hear; elven women are like that. They want me for themselves, or for their daughters, nieces, cousins—I’ve no shortage of options. Not since my pathetic attempt to find a wood elf consort—what Titaine would label myaffair—have I considered any of these options with any seriousness. When you were bonded to the most beautiful woman on the continent and she broke your bond and rejected you, it tends to damage one’s self-esteem.
It also leaves me with the belief that I won’t find love again. Nor should I. Once, I was so sure I had it, and it proved to be anything but true love.
To the Lower Gates with Titaine. I’m not changing my plans, any more than she would change her mind about me. The puk is trying to manipulate me, trying to bring out my weaker instincts.
I will never be weak in front of Titaine again.Never.
“My orders remain the same. We leave in the last moon hour, as planned, without Titaine and her people,” I announce, trying not to sound as though I’ve just now decided this once and for all. “You will ready the last of the cargo tonight and see it loaded ontoZephyr’s Bountybefore the final star hour is finished.”
Robin sketches a bow deep enough to hide his face from me. Convenient. “As you wish, my lord.”
Itwillbe as I wish. After the humiliation of losing the treaty with the House of Fetes, I’m finally getting revenge on Titaine. And she deserves it.
I am both a Houselord and dark elf king. She should never have broken her word to me. Even if she never wished to see my face again, the union of our Houses ought to have stood. Instead, she made me look the fool.
“Send word if you change your mind,” Robin calls over his shoulder as he leaves my study, a single brow raised impertinently.
“My mind is made up.”
“Is it?” Robin pauses in the doorway, his hand curled around the raised leaf pattern on its wooden trim. “My lord, if you thought any harder, flames might erupt from your ears.”
I snort. My mind feels very much like a fireswamp at the moment, so thatwouldbe fitting. “Goodbye, Robin.”
“Goodbye, my lord.”
Yet Robin lingers there a moment longer, studying me, as if he thinks I’ll suddenly have a change of heart. Is there a small, feeble part of me that wants him to be right? That wishes Titaine’s heart weren’t one of stone, that there was a chance for us to start again? Perhaps. But I could never truly love someone who could discard me so easily. My heart might want one thing—even after all this time—but this fireswamp of a mind demands I do the opposite.
With one final nod, Robin is gone.
It is all for the best. Unless Titaine and the House of Fetes are more resourceful than I believe, there is a strong chance I’ll never see Titaine’s face again.
All the same, it doesn’t seem likely I’ll ever forget it.
