Page 61 of The Prince from a Cruel Summer
“Only because of you. You keep me honest. Sixty percent of the first-year students fail at least one exam. That means extra work next semester, and we’re already crumbling under pressure…”
Despite her birthright to attend the academy, Willow isn’t neglecting her school work, and I love her all the more for it.
“Is everything alright?” I ask. “You sounded emotional when you spoke of St. John’s Eve.”
“It’s sad that Fae royals are only allowed to follow their hearts for one night per year,” she sighs. “I wish someone was brave enough to enact true change, but once a Fae gets a crown, they become too scared of losing it to change the way things are done.”
“Why change a ladder when you’ve already reached the top?” I muse.
She drags her feet along the stone steps leading down to the beach. “It’s weird, you know. All my life, I’ve been told Aidan will be the next Summer King. My father never even took me seriously because of Aidan’s mark. I wonder sometimes if it’s a blessing or a curse for everyone to know, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that I won’t inherit my family’s throne. They all expect me to become a queen through marriage, but that means I won’t get to be happy.”
“Don’t say that. You might fall for your betrothed.”
She raises a brow. “The way you fell for Zeke?”
My gaze darts down to the red-orange sand. “Iris was right. I’m a hypocrite.”
“No, it’s not your fault. You’re stuck because of stupid rules made up by stupid people. We’re both doomed to be unhappy because of what old, crumbling kings decided was right. I swear, if I ever get to be queen…”
Her certainty that she’s bound to live a life of duty prompts me to tell her the truth about my intentions with Zeke and admit I plan to get out of marrying him altogether, but the bonfire appears in the distance. It’s not safe to discuss this here.
“Blessed Flame. Let’s have fun tonight, and forget about real life,” she tugs on my arm, hurrying me along.
She’s bee-lining for the spot where Aidan and his friends are playing cards, and I stagger in the sand.
“Aidan! Come here for a second. I have something for you.” She sets her over-the-shoulder bag on a tall nearby rock and rummages through it.
Aidan folds his cards on the makeshift table before heading toward us.
“Hi,” I greet him, a nervous hiccup threatening to pop out of my throat.
“Hey,” he answers casually, taking a sip of his cider and quickly looking away.
“Welcome back.”
“How are you?” he asks.
“Good.”
“Good.”
We both nod. It’s not only awkward, but downright painful to endure such a stilted, dishonest conversation with the man that has been plaguing my thoughts and dreams.
His fire warms the air between us, enticing and yet forbidden, the bite of his magic beckoning me closer.
I open my mouth to say something, anything, to encompass how his return makes me feel, but Willow wrenches a sealed letter out of her bag. “Here.”
“What’s that? Fan mail?” I joke.
“A love letter, actually.” Willow chimes, and my stomach plummets until she grins mischievously and adds, “From our grandmother. After all these years, she still doesn’t trust the sprites with her mail.” Willow throws a knowing wink to her big brother, but the prince remains stoic, and she eyes him up and down. “What happened to you? You look…different. Quiet.”
“The new world is changing, but their social rules are still pretty strict. I had to tame my impulses quite a bit to fit in.” His eyes flick to me as he says the last part, and I shiver all over.
Willow pats his arm in a soothing manner. “Well, you’re back in Faerie, now. Stop frowning, or I’ll start to think something’s wrong with you.”
“Should I deal you in, then?” he asks.
“You bet.”
