Page 23 of The Crown of a Fallen Queen
“Then I swear I won’t touch another woman until our wedding night, or until the aforementioned terms are met,” he says the words lightly, as though it doesn’t cost him anything, and my heart skips a beat. He certainly didn’t include me in that promise.
Magic pulses between us, sealing his vow.
The late night bleeds into the early hours of the morning as Seth and I sit in my shop, working out the minutia of our deal. How to play it in front of the other royals and arguing whether we should ease them into it or not. The dim glow of the hearth flickers over a growing pile of empty bottles and the verdant glint of Nether cider in our glasses, the air thick with distrust and intrigue.
The dryer finally dings, and Seth stands up to retrieve his shirt.
“I’m supposed to take you straight from here to Wintermere. An emergency meeting is planned between the seven crowns.” He rubs the curve of his jaw. “Elio thought it best to summon them before paranoia completely settled in.”
“Elio doesn’t know about your insane proposal, does he?”
“No.”
“Good. He’s not a big fan of arranged weddings.”
“Funny coming from a man who’s had dozens.” Seth huffs out a laugh. “But that’s all in the past. He’s in love now, and his new wife is a doppelgänger of my cousin Iris, did you hear?”
I tip my chin in affirmation.
“She’s quite something.” A secret smile touches Seth’s full lips, his eyes cast down, and I get the feeling he’s fond of thiswoman. Maybe even enamored with her, which irks me, given the circumstances. Iris was gorgeous, of course, but her affair with Elio’s brother ended with her dead, and the fallout dragged everyone involved into decades of misery.
I send a discreet sliver of magic forward, probing Seth’s heart, searching for the depth of his affection, but he’s harder to read than most. Storm Fae keep their emotions hidden behind the clouds, their magic shielding them from scrutiny. I catch only brief, shallow glimpses of his emotions, not enough to hold onto. It leaves me unsatisfied, unsure if he’s hiding the truth or if there’s nothing deeper to find.
“Do you have a thing for Elio’s wife?” I tease, still unsure how to interpret the faint traces of jealousy emanating from him. “That’s dangerous territory to tread.”
“Not a crush, no.” He tilts his head. “But I envy their marriage. Elio’s a lucky bastard. He’s known true love not once, but twice.”
“His first marriage wasn’t so lucky, trust me. As much as I loved Iris, she really destroyed him. Spring folks worship true love, swear by it even, but how many of us manage it in our lifetime? Very few, and the rest are stuck longing for something they’ll never have.”
Seth quiets down even more. “Is that why you crafted love arrows strong enough to pierce a Fae’s heart? Are you a romantic?”
“I crafted the arrows because it had never been done before. Because I had to prove myself at every turn. No one could accusemeof being a romantic.”
“Don’t you see how flawed it was, in hindsight, to manipulate your peers?”
“We manipulate mortals’ feelings every day, and they don’t live meaningless lives because of it.”
“When the archer does their job right. Otherwise, it’s not a gift, but a curse.” He pauses for a moment. “And mortals don’t know they’re being manipulated. That counts for something.”
I shake my head. He’s totally missing the point. “I didn’t mean for anyone to steal my arrows and use them for their own greed. I was matching consenting couples, which is entirely different from an arrow thief swindling an unsuspecting Fae king into marriage. My arrows were designed to ease the loneliness of arranged unions, but like all powerful tools, they can be misused. I shouldn’t have been blamed for what Rye did, and if Freya hadn’t been scheming against me—if my lieutenants had any backbone at all—I wouldn’t have been banished.
Seth devours me with his eyes as though he finds my rant… delectable. “You’re so passionate. I’ve known quite a few princesses, but none seem to spark the same fascination?—”
“I’m no princess,” I interrupt him. “I wasQueen.”
The corners of his mouth quirk, but he doesn’t argue. He leans back on his stool, swirling the last of his cider, watching me.
My stomach flip-flops. It’s been years since I’ve gossiped with a Spring Fae, let alone one as powerful and objectively attractive as Seth.
“How come you’re named Devine and not Heart?” My exile started before he was born, and I never understood why Freya refused him her surname.
Seth waves dismissively. “Oh, it was all part of her strategy. She pretended I was the illegitimate child of her mortal lover, Garrett Devine, hoping to protect my real father’s reputation and marriage. Mortal lovers and their bastards are not so unusual in Spring, as you must know. They don’t count, so to speak.”
“What made her change her mind?”
He rubs his jaw, looking more defeated than pensive. “She admitted to me being a full-blooded Fae when my Storm magic manifested. The Royal Academy doesn’t invite half-Fae to their trials and requested proof of parentage. With me being a dual-wielder, my mother decided to put my future above her lover’s need for secrecy and admitted publicly to the affair.”
I nod, remembering all too well the elitist rules of the academy. “You think she acted out of love? I always thought she was too proud not to show you off, or that she hoped to destroy Thorald’s marriage in the process.”
