Page 20 of Sanctuary

"You mean Gambol? Moonbeams, no," I said with a dismissive laugh. "He would make a terrible advisor. We grew up together, and he owns a bakery in Mistvale. He's great at bread and pies, but not so great at making sweeping policy decisions. He barely remembers to put his shoes on before he leaves the house most days."

Fife lifted a dark eyebrow at me. "And you know all about his morning routine? Spent many mornings observing his dressing habits, have you?"

I rolled my eyes. Were we really having this conversation right now? Was the male who I'd seen kissing someone else really worried that I might have dallied with some of the townsfolk? "Have you lost your mind?" I blurted out. “What is wrong with you?”

He arched a black brow at me. “The man reeks of duplicity. Anyone would be daft to see him hovering around their mate and not be…concerned.”

"Fife," Adder said quietly, his deep voice barely audible above the chatter around us. Even he seemed slightly perplexed about Fife's pointed, surprisingly possessive words. "Now is not the time or the place."

Fife huffed and looked away, jerking the cuffs of his jacket straight and taking a deep breath before meeting my eyes again. When he did, I noticed that the tips of his perfectly pointed highborn ears were flushed pink. Embarrassment? Anger? It was difficult to tell with him.

"You're right, of course. I apologize, Lady Katrina. I don't know what's come over me," Fife said with a stiff little bow. "Maybe a dance will set my mood to rights." Grabbing Adder's hand, he dragged the stoic silver-haired male out onto the dance floor.

I stared after him in complete confusion, not sure what had even happened just now.

"Ignore him," Mirri advised, as he offered me a bit of cheese from a small plate of snacks he'd grabbed from the table.

I sighed. "I wish I could," I muttered to myself, accepting the sweet fae's peace offering, trying to ignore warmth that fluttered through me when Mirri leaned in to press the morsel to my lips like we were lovers.

Bach looked like he was about to say something, but we were interrupted by a woman who came asking for a dance. I finished my cheese and took her hand gratefully, letting her pull me into a sweeping number that required all of my focus, resolutely pushing Fife's strange behavior and Mirri’s distracting attentions from my mind.

Chapter 11

When the most recent dance finished, I made my way out of the indoor area and into the cooler, darker garden space. I needed some fresh air. And besides, this really was my favorite place to be during gatherings like this. It was magical out here, with fireflies emerging from the shrubs and flowers to add their blinking lights to the wild splendor of the night. I skirted the dance floor and found a semi-sheltered alcove with a stone bench, where I could observe the gathering without being a target for anyone wanting to talk business or claim the honor of a dance with the steward. I needed a moment to breathe.

I watched the mesmerizing swirl of dancers through the screen of a climbing rose bush that arched up and around my seat. But it wasn't long before the soft scuff of footsteps pulled me from my trance-like state. A compact, graceful silhouette filled my vision, and I blinked to focus on the here and now.

"May I join you, lady steward," Fife said softly, all hints of teasing or snark gone from his pretty voice.

I nodded silently, at a loss for what he could possibly want from me now. "Gambol really is just a friend," I said stupidly. When really, I shouldn't care what he thought, even if the man I danced with was a previous lover. Which he absolutely was not. I had never been interested in him that way. And Gambol would laugh 'til he cried if he heard Fife's suspicions.

Fife sighed. "Something about that male doesn’t sit right with me. But I believe you. And it's really none of my business anyway, is it? No one ever said you had to be loyal to your new mates. There was no talk of commitment between us. And…we are fae, after all. Indulgence is in our blood, but I acted like a stuffy human fresh off the ship from over the sea."

I shrugged. He was right, of course. He was also involved with Adder, though he didn't know I knew about that. I didn't think. Then again…maybe he thought I knew already, because of the night we all spent in the forest under the wild moon. Had they been open with me then and I just didn't remember because of the moon magic and the cleric brew I'd guzzled that night?

"You don't have to explain yourself to me," I said finally. "I know how you feel about me. So, what does it matter? I am thankful for your help with the projection spell tonight, though," I rambled. "And for the way all of you put aside your feelings to stand beside me like real mates for the sake of the stewardship."

He sighed again, this time sounding even more exasperated than before. "Do you really?" he demanded. "Know how I feel about you?" He scoffed. "How could you possibly know that?"

I turned toward him to find him watching me with sharp, earnest green eyes that glowed faintly in the low light. "Don't I?" I snapped. "You've obviously been furious at me ever since our bonding. You made it very clear you were angry that day, and ever since then, you've been a complete—" I stopped myself before I could start calling names. That certainly wouldn't help matters.

But Fife just arched his brows at me and finished my sentence for me. "A complete bitch? A jackass? A thorn in your side? A snotty child? Go on. I certainly deserve all those labels, and more." When I was silent, he huffed a laugh, one corner of his bowstring mouth curving up into a wry grimace. "I know. Believe me, I do. And I came to apologize. Though I’m doing a shit job of it.” He rolled his shoulders and straightened his spine. “I've been accused of being a bit…overdramatic, when my ego is bruised."

I shook my head, at a loss for what to say. On the one hand, he was right. He'd been a complete ass, and I wasn't sure I was done being angry with him for that. He needed to grovel. But on the other hand, I was tired of all this petty resentment. And it couldn't be easy for him to admit his failings like this. I sighed. "Fife, you've been so much angrier than the others. I just I know things between us haven’t been ideal but…I don't know why you hate me so much."

He reached for me then, slowly, giving me a chance to pull away or smack him for trying. But I let him take my hand in his, and let myself silently revel in the wonderful feeling of his powerful aura brushing up against mine.

"I don't hate you, Kat," he whispered. "I never have. Though I know you have plenty of reason to think that. And to hate me. I just…." He ran his free hand through his hair, messing up the artful tumble of glossy black curls. "I've been so caught up in my own hurt. And I let it make me act like a fool."

He sighed, looking down at our clasped hands. His thumb stroked over the back of my hand, and he seemed…smaller somehow. Like all the confidence and swagger had gone out of him. "At first, I didn't know what to feel about all of it. I only knew I was furious. But that's only because I was wounded." He huffed in a self-deprecating manner. "Or because we were all wounded. I like to give Bach a hard time, but the truth is, I'm just as protective of my friends—of my family—as he is. It doesn't make how I've behaved any more acceptable, but I've slowly been able to understand what I'm feeling and…it was never anger. Not really."

I squeezed his hand in encouragement, sensing he had more to say. I didn't want to open my mouth and interrupt this moment of honest communication after all this time of awkwardness and hostility.

"When I was growing up, my gifts made me attractive to others. And I learned pretty early on that people expected me to always be charming and agreeable. So, I learned to pretend. I can put on a mask and be flirty or charming when I need to. When it's expected of me." He shook his head. "Which is all the damned time." The note of bitterness that crept into his voice surprised me. I knew he was the golden child of the steward of Astra. But I had never stopped to think that he might not actually like being the golden child….

"Over the years," he continued, still looking at our hands, seemingly oblivious to my realization, "I've had countless other families try to negotiate with my mother for my bonding. Because of my magic. My looks. Because I was the heir of the beloved steward of Astra." He waved a hand dismissively, as if it should be obvious that there were a dozen reasons someone might want to buy him like a trinket. It might sound arrogant on the surface. But…I had to admit, the it had nothing to do with his over-inflated ego. It was just a fact. Any highborn would give a fortune to snap up this young, beautiful, well-connected highborn magical powerhouse.

"My mother never agreed, of course," Fife continued. "She never hounded me about it. Because luckily, she loves me. She saw those proposals for what they were. Shallow interest. Those people didn't know me, and they didn't care to know me. They only wanted what I could give them. Power. Influence. A position. A pretty mate to show off to their peers. They didn't want a true mate. They wanted someone to use."

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