A shock of white in my periphery catches my attention. Sebastian’s sitting on the stoop just outside the courtyard, his big hands sharpening the tip of his staff.
My stomach always goes wild at the sight of him—not just a little flip-flop, but a full-on tumble down a hill that never ends.
Unlike my cousins, I was too busy surviving my adolescence to have crushes or worry about falling in love. But then Sebastian moved in next door, and the first moment I saw him, I felt something different . . . in my stomach. In my lungs. All along my skin.
The first time he smiled at me, it was as if my chest opened up, as if my heart were trying to reach out and grab him. Somehow I got around my awkwardness, we became friends, and I got to see him almost every morning. We didn’t spend a lot of time together—just enough that he became a bright spot—and his smile got me through my fair share of hard days.
He’s not smiling now.
I lower myself onto the stoop beside him, tucking my knees to my chest and wrapping my arms around my legs. I sit there for long minutes. He sharpens his staff to a deadly point, and I watch. We let the birds in the courtyard do all the talking.
I’m not good at feelings. I’m good at working and doing, and the only person I’ve ever been any good at sharing my emotions with is Jas. No one else has ever mattered enough to be worth the effort.
“I’m sorry,” I finally say. It’s not enough, and it only brushes against what I want to explain—that we’re running out of options, that I love how much he values our safety, that I’ll do everything in my power to come back home—if only because I desperately want to see him again.
Sebastian lifts his head, and those sea-green eyes seem to see right through me. He searches my face. “Do you have any idea how dangerous it is for humans in Faerie?”
“Sure I do, but—”
“So don’t go.”
My fingers itch to reach out and touch him. To stroke the side of his jaw or grab his muscled forearms. He’s never hinted that he has the same feelings for me that I harbor for him, so I’ve never allowed myself that sort of connection with him. I’ve never had the courage to risk rejection, keeping my feelings secret from everyone—even Jas. “If our debt gets much worse, we’ll never escape it. Even now, it would take . . .”
He squeezes his eyes shut. I know he hates that he can’t help us. He’s given us money before, but he’s only an apprentice. He doesn’t have the resources to make a dent in what we owe to Madame V.
When he opens his eyes, he studies me for a long time. So long that my cheeks heat. My skin tingles. My breath comes short as I wait for his soft lips to find their way toward mine.
“Just hold off a little longer,” he finally says. “Just hold off until I can help. Someday I’ll end your contract. I’ll free you from her.”
I know he believes it, but—
“I promise we’ll be safe,” I say. It’s not the promise he wants, so I stand and wipe my sweaty palms on my pants. I was foolish to think he might kiss me, foolish to focus on that when we’re arguing about something so important. “I have to go get ready for work.”
There’s something in his eyes I’ve never seen before. Desperation.
I walk away because I understand that emotion all too well.
I’ve taken three steps when he says, “What if he’s not what you think?”
I stop and turn back to see him stand. “What?”
“Prince Ronan. What if you end up . . . what if you realize you could like him?”
I shake my head. “Bash, I’m not going in hopes of becoming a faerie princess. I’m not that girl.”
“But if he isn’t what you expect . . . if he’s better than you’ve let yourself believe?”
I fold my arms. “Are you worried I’m going to fall for a faerie?” Are you worried I’ll forget you? Because I promise I won’t. I couldn’t.
“Abriella . . .”
“What?”
His throat bobs as he swallows. “Just promise me you’ll do everything you can to be safe. If you go to the ball, you’ll be under the queen’s protection, but if you wander off her land, that protection no longer applies.”
“I know how it works, Sebastian. I promise.”
With a single step, he closes the distance between us. He touches my cheek with two fingers and tucks an errant lock of hair behind my ear. I’m entranced by the sensation of his rough calluses against my skin.