Page 17 of Blossoms and Bloodlines
She tapped to open it.
And then froze.
No way.
Beth,
I apologize for intruding on your evening and for getting your number from Elara without asking. I won’t use it again unless you allow me to. But there are things I need to say for the sake of honesty, and maybe just to clear my conscience.
You know Bryn.
My family knew him, too. Not well, he was never close, just alwaysaround. Lingering. Finding reasons to be near us. A few years ago, he went out with my cousin Aureth. Nothing serious, simply a few dates. She ended it. Said something felt off. Atthe time, she couldn’t explain it, only said that being around him made her uneasy. The day after ending it, she remembered going to him, sleeping with him, and promising him a future together in the High Family. Except the memory was hazy. Fragmented. Distorted. What stuck with her was the certainty that her emotions hadn’t been entirely her own.
It was subtle. Magic often is when used like that. His affinity, as you may know, is emotional manipulation, and he’s good at it.
We couldn’t prove anything, it was her word against his. She was young, and she might have not loved him, but she trusted him. It left a scar that I don’t think ever fully healed.
After that, I told Bryn plainly: if he was seen near Aureth—or anyone else in my family—there would be consequences. So yes, I made sure he stayed away and I don’t regret it.
I’m telling you this because I don’t think you know the full picture. Bryn presents himself well. He’s charismatic, friendly, and approachable. That’s part of what makes him dangerous. If he could manipulate a young, gifted elven, imagine how easily he could sway a human.
Now, about today.
You might not believe this, but I don’t get much time off. My responsibilities, my rank, they swallow most of my hours, and most of my company comes from politics or duty. This afternoon with you in the garden, just talking, working, existing, was the first time in longer than I care to admit that I felt like just an elf.
You didn’t care about what I am. You weren’t impressed, or intimidated. That is rare. And I wanted more of it. More time with you.
I realize now that I misread things. I thought, maybe, you might’ve wanted to spend time with me, too.
Your message was clear, though, and I won’t make the same mistake twice.
Unless you want me to.
Wishing you peace and good sleep,
—Gael
Beth read the message once. Twice. A third time, just to make sure.
Damn it.
She sank back in her chair, pushing away her plate of tacos, suddenly not hungry anymore.
She barely knew Bryn. They’d talked a few times, usually about town stuff or her garden, as he’d mentioned he was into gardening too. She’d caught hints of interest from him now and then, but he never acted on it. And even if he had, she would’ve said no. He was nice, easy to talk to, but there was no spark, no pull. Just friendly conversations, and that was all it had ever been.
She blew out a big breath as she realized it was time to get real.
The reason she’d defended him, why she’d gotten so angry at Gael, had nothing to do with Bryn.
It was abouther.
Because once upon a time, Beth had made an oath. She would never be weak again. She would never be under someone’s thumb again. No one would ever dictate what she could and couldn’t do. Who she could and couldn’t love.
And now here came Gael with his glacier-blue eyes, unshakable presence, and all the damned nobility she’d been rebelling against her whole life, saying she’d been wrong about him. That he wasn’t like the others. That maybe she’d hurt someone who hadn’t deserved it.
It messed with her.
She stared at the phone for a long moment. Then, sighing, she found the number and tapped out a message.
