I think about how I’ve somehow fallen for two faerie princes—romantically, completely, and simultaneously. But unlike Pretha, I shouldn’t trust either one.
By the time we head downstairs, rain is tapping against the window in a steady rhythm. A look outside reveals Finn, Kane, Juliana, and a group of fae I don’t recognize all standing around and talking in the rain. None of them seems the slightest bit concerned about the drizzle wetting their clothes or the droplets of rain rolling down their faces.
Pretha opens the door for me and nudges me onto the front stoop.
“And then he said he would—” Finn stops in the middle of his sentence when he spots me, and his eyes trail over me, from the short red curls Pretha pinned out of my face all the way down to the hem of the red dress that sweeps the damp wet stone of the stoop. His face is solemn when he lifts his gaze to mine. “Good morning, Princess. You are absolutely stunning, as always.”
My stomach does a giddy flip at those words, even as I realize that they’re more for the crowd that’s waiting here than they are for me. Even so, some visceral part of me desperately wants to believe them.
He steps forward and takes my hand, drawing me out from the overhang and fully into the rain.
“Are you ready for our trek up the mountain?”
“We’ll be soaked through,” I say, tilting my face up toward the sky. I don’t mind, truly, but suddenly the idea of hiking through the rain at his side, of pretending to be a couple, makes me feel far too vulnerable—as if the rain might wash away the last of my willpower where Finn’s concerned.
Perhaps that’s ridiculous after last night, but at least last night there was no one watching us, no one trying to dissect what we feel for each other.
Juliana steps forward. She’s dressed in a shining yellow and gold dress that reminds me of the sunshine, and she has marigolds woven into the curls pinned off her neck. One chunk of curls, I notice with a shameful flash of satisfaction, is a great deal shorter than the rest. “A gentle rain during Lunastal is considered a blessing by Lugh,” she says, handing a basket of flowers to Finn, who accepts them wordlessly.
He takes a handful of flowers from the basket before placing it on the porch and standing to face me. “May I?” he asks, combing two fingers through a curl that’s broken free of the pins.
“It’s tradition,” Pretha says behind me. “To allow your partner to put flowers in your hair. You’ll wear them to the top of the mountain and then bury them at the door to your tent.”
“It is believed,” explains a horned male I’ve never met before, “that by burying the flowers at the door to where you’ll share a bed, you ask the gods to bless you with fertility and a healthy pregnancy.”
My eyes go wide, and flames of embarrassment lick my cheeks. Finn’s eyes dance with amusement as they meet mine. I almost swat the flowers right out of his hands and ask him what he’s thinking, but I can’t with all these people watching.
“May I?” Finn asks again, stepping even closer.
I nod, not sure what else I can do. It’s not as if there’s any risk of this ritual resulting in pregnancy anyway, so I nod, and Finn places the flowers in my hair, one by one.
The air is chilly in the rain, but Finn’s body is warm, and his big fingers are gentle, almost soothing, as he uses the pins to form miniature rosebuds and mums into a crown atop my head.
“It looks beautiful,” Pretha says when Finn steps back.
“Truly lovely,” Juliana agrees, and I wonder if anyone else notices the disapproval in her tone.
Kane grunts and nods. “Appears our prince has finally found something he’s good at.”
Finn cups my jaw for a beat. “She makes it easy,” he says roughly before stepping back.
When his hand is gone, I long for it to return.
Chapter Nineteen
Our “celebratory” hike up the mountainside was more like an endless slog through mud and rain. The good people of Staraelia don’t allow inclement weather to prevent their celebration of Lunastal, so even when the rain was coming down so hard and cold that it felt like being stabbed with a million tiny needles at once, we trudged forward. Finn was quieter than usual on the trek, always by my side but touching me only to offer help over particularly steep terrain. Every so often I’d catch him staring at me, as if he was trying to figure something out.
I like to consider myself tough, but by the time we reached the top of the mountain, I nearly whimpered in relief. I’ve let my training lapse in my weeks in the Wild Fae Lands, and I could barely keep up with these happy, sun-kissed fae from Staraelia. Perhaps instead of helping at the infirmary and school at the settlement, I should’ve worked the fields.