Page 121 of The Prince from a Cruel Summer
“I don’t want to be a widow,” I say softly, the words cracking as they leave my mouth.
Willow’s expression shifts. “Better a widow than stuck in a loveless marriage,” she murmurs.
I don’t respond right away. Her smile is dim but brave, her eyes full of resignation. She never said it out loud, but I know how much her wedding night cost her.
The possibility gnaws at something raw inside me, and I bite my bottom lip, trying to suppress the guilt rising in my chest. Willow thinks Zeke is the problem; that I’m hesitating because I don’t love him and want to avoid the sex altogether. She doesn’t know the truth about Aidan.
“It’s not that simple,” I whisper, clutching the glass ring tighter.
Willow leans forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “Zeke’s chances against Damian are slim, but hecouldmake it out against all odds. Is that what’s stopping you?”
When I don’t answer, she tilts her head, studying me. “Beth, what’s going on? Is there something you’re not telling me?”
My breath catches, and for a fleeting moment, I consider telling her everything—about Aidan, about the nights we’ve stolen, about the way he makes me feel. But the words are too slow to come. I can’t seem to force them out to Willow who’s trusted me with her own secrets and struggles. Before I gather the courage to explain, Iris storms through the door and slams her bag onto the kitchen counter, her hair more disheveled than I’ve ever seen it, her eyes red and blotchy.
“Hey, are you alright?” Willow asks, her spine stiffening at our roommate’s eerie appearance.
“How do youdareask me that question?” Iris deadpans, her voice quiet and hollow. “After what happened last night.”
Willow grimaces, her fingers rapping against her knee as she turns back around to face me. “Iris is furious with me,” she whispers under her breath. “Her father was convinced that he would get Ezra to marry her instead, and now that it’s not to be, I can’t do anything right.”
Iris’s face wrinkles in fury, the slender woman looking twice as tall as she marches into the living room area, fists balled at her sides. “It should have been me! You don’t give a damn about him. You likegirls.”
Willow’s eyes widen in shock. “Iris!”
“Oh, come on. It’s hardly a secret,” Iris says dismissively. “I thought that with me around, you two newlyweds might find some common ground, but you stood me up without so much as a heads-up.”
“I should go.” I rise and tiptoe toward my bedroom, hoping to give the two women some space.
“Ezra changed his mind,” Willow says quietly. “I can’t help that. With Elio being head over heels for you, it’s not so surprising he had scruples about accepting your offer.”
“Please, Ezra couldn’t care less about his brother’s pathetic obsession with me. He chickened out because of her.” Iris points at me, freezing me mid-retreat.
My hand clenches around the doorknob. “What do you mean?”
Iris creates a very small gap between her index finger and thumb. “He came this close to giving in, but he said he couldn’t bear how you’d look at him if you found out about us. He wasn’t afraid to hurt Elio’s feelings. Not scared of Willow’s reaction—his damn wife. Butyou.”
“I-I’ll talk to you both later, alright?” I slip inside my bedroom and lock the door behind me, the argument picking up where I left it, Iris’s heart and pride wounded enough for the Spring Fae to abandon all pretenses.
I zone out their conversation, but a dark silhouette at my window makes me jump. Aidan is here, waiting for me, and I bring a shaky head to my forehead.Oh, hells!
I crack open the window, the eerie darkness of Morheim spilling into the room. Even in the middle of the day, it feels like midnight, the sun banished from the sky for the holiday’s duration. “You can’t be in here—Willow and Iris will hear,” I whisper, glancing over my shoulder to the door.
“Let me in,” Aidan says, his voice low but urgent.
I push the window open wider, and he climbs inside with practiced ease, his bite of power filling the room. His brows pull together at the loud argument going on beyond the door, but he doesn’t mention it.
“Please don’t marry him.” His head tilts slightly, desperation bleeding into every syllable. “I beg you.”
I blink a few times, shocked by his insight. “How did you know?”
“When you didn’t meet me at the cabin, I came to meet you and heard you two talking.” He steps closer, his jaw tight. “He needs your magic, but you can’t marry him, Songbird. He probably won’t win the challenge, with or without your magic, but I can’t bear the thought of the two of you together. Even for one night.”
I clutch the foot of the bed for support, finally making up my mind about it. “I don’t want to marry him,” I whisper. “I want you. Only you.”
The ring Aidan gave me grows hot between my breasts as he draws near, and his breath hitches. “Songbird. Are you saying?—”
I cut him off, shaking my head. “No one would marry us, Aidan. They’d be terrified of reprisal.”
