Page 56 of Prince of Flowers
The two of us stood like statues. I drew breath in one moment, and he exhaled in the next, the silence in the room so stifling.
“I don’t expect you to believe me, Locke. Not after all this. But I never lied about my feelings for you.”
“Stop it. That’s all irrelevant right now.”
And there I was, lying to him myself. The lump in his throat bobbed as he swallowed, not out of fear. Only sadness. But how could I trust him?
“Everything, Sylvain. Tell me everything.”
His gaze went to my lips, then up into my eyes once more. Sylvain sighed.
“I lied because you would have mistrusted me even more. The Autumn Court, we’re the darker aspect of the fae, right next to the Court of Winter. It’s what everyone knows. I thought if I presented myself as someone from the lighter half, then — you don’t believe me, do you?”
“You’re doing the talking right now,” I said, so unconvincing to my own ears, my hand gripping the dagger so close to shaking. “So talk.”
“Locke, you have to understand. I came here to investigate what your people knew of the Withering, come to find out that it’s only just spread to your world. How would you have treated a fae of the Autumn Court, knowing that some accursed plague is sapping the life from your forests?”
He had a point there. I would have suspected him on the spot, no question. But the anger still coursed through my blood, the betrayal too fresh.
“Tell me, then. Are you even a prince, or are you pretending about that as well?”
“Does all that really matter anymore?” His words came sullen, glum. “If I showed you proof, you still wouldn’t believe me.”
And he was right again.
“The Withering is true. My feelings for you are true. I need to help my people, Locke, but I will return.”
He took his chance, slowly raised his hand to meet mine, edging my dagger away from his throat. My arm dangled at my side, defeated, useless. I couldn’t hurt him like that. I could never.
“Lochlann, listen to me. I want to be by your side, if you’ll have me. I won’t be gone long. You need only call, and I’ll answer.”
I said nothing, my insides a storm of confusion, anger, hurt. He brought my hands to his mouth, pressed his lips against my knuckles, like he was too afraid to kiss me.
“Summon me, summoner,” the Autumn Prince said, his voice trembling. “And I will tear through the walls between worlds to fight at your side.”
I wanted to tell him the right things, to say I believed him, that yes, of course he could earn my trust again. Instead my gaze fell on the floorboards, the dagger slipping from my fingers, clattering onto the wood.
Sylvain sighed, footsteps padding away from me. He paused and lingered at the doorway. Maybe he was waiting for me to say something, to wish him well, to give him words of reassurance. But I couldn’t bring myself to look at him, my chest in a painful twist. The door creaked, and he was gone.
Too much said. Too much to process. Overwhelmed, alarmed, I did all I could to put things as they were again, retrieving the dagger, placing it back in its sheath. I pushed on the knob, made sure the door was shut.
Air. Fresh air. I needed to breathe, to clear my head. I rushed to the window, parted the curtains, threw the glass open.
The breeze blew in, not the brisk chill of night that I’d expected, but something balmy, and vaguely perfumed. She made her presence known on the wind. This time, she didn’t reveal herself.
“Ah, sapling. Is this a bad time?”
“Hello, Aphrodite.” I sighed, leaning my forearms against the windowsill. “Yeah. Bad time. I guess you could say that.”
Not just a bad time, I wanted to tell her. The worst, and could she please just go and leave me to my thoughts? But that wasn’t the sort of thing you said to powerful, ancient beings who were known for being vindictive, who thought that turning humans into random animals was hilarious.
“I only meant to ask about the Withering, sweet sapling, but it seems so insignificant, does it not? Right now, I mean, compared to the withering of your heart.”
My fingernails dug into the windowsill.
“Oh, goodness, no. Did I strike a nerve? Why, I only meant to tease. I know what dwells in your heart, Lochlann Wilde. You’re wondering whether your princeling lingered for power, or for love. You’re wondering if he’ll ever return again.”
I massaged my temples with the tips of my fingers. “Aphrodite. Please. Why are you tormenting me? Aren’t you supposed to be the goddess of love?”
