“But how could you tell her, when you’ve never admitted it to me?”
A growl rumbles in my throat, and I grab his arm firmly. “We will not speak of this here. And I will not speak of this with you.”
Kairyn shakes his head. “Typical. You are more than willing to look into the future of Spring with me, but will never look to the past. Tell me, did you even deigned to pay your respects to Mother yet?”
When I don’t answer, my brother melds back into the dark edges of the party. I am left dancing with the fireflies.
43
Rosalina
Though this is the fourth fae party I’ve attended, each one feels like the first time. The realms are all so unique and wondrous.
“Hey, silly.” Dayton smirks at me. “You’ve got petals on your face.”
His rough hand rubs at my cheek, and I can’t help but wrap my fingers around his wrist. In the gentle glow of the stars, his hair looks like burnished gold, topped by a crown of flowers.
“It was a cake with edible flowers! How cool is that?”
“Very cool, Rosie.” He doesn’t take his hand away. “Are you done eating your cake so we can dance?”
The prickling sensation of being watched travels over me, and I scan the party. Hovering beside a lily pond is the acolyte from the temple. She’s not dressed in her robes, instead wearing a blue gown that falls above her ankles. Pink daisies cover the gauzy fabric of her dress, and a matching crown adorns her short, brown hair.
Wrenley. Dayton had told me her name. “You should ask her to dance.”
“I don’t feel like dancing.”
“You literally just asked if I was finished with my cake so we could dance.”
Dayton puts a hand behind his head, raising the hem of the nearly transparent shirt high enough that I can glimpse the toned muscles of his stomach. “Changed my mind.”
“Day…”
Farron has wandered off, but he wouldn’t be any help in this matter. I think he’s convinced himself Dayton will never find his mate and we’ll be able to keep him forever.
If only.
“Rose.”
I shake my head, and even though the words taste like ash in my mouth, I say, “Come on. You saved her from the river. She gave you a precious shell from her necklace that is similar to yours. You have to try.”
Dayton grinds his teeth and reaches for his sweet lavender wine. “Is that really what you want?”
Of course not. But I grip his arm hard enough to spill his wine. “We can’t be selfish. I can’t keep you. Summer needs this.”
His teal gaze locks on mine as he drains his drink and tosses the lily pad goblet into the water where it unfurls. He makes no move to leave.
“Fine. If you won’t talk to her, I will.”
Dayton shrugs as if he couldn’t care less.
“Think of your people, Day,” I whisper. “Of your little sister, Delphia. Wrenley might not be your mate, but you’ll never know if you don’t try.”
Twisting through the party, I make my way to the acolyte. “Pink or blue?”
She turns to me slowly, raising a brow. “Excuse me?”
“Which color is your favorite? Your dress would say both.”
“Oh,” she says, and her full lips curve into a smile. “Black.”
“Black?” I echo.
Wrenley’s smile grows further. “Yes. It is during the darkest night we can most clearly see the light of the Above. The light of our blessed Queen.”
I almost catch an air of sarcasm to her words, but she’s an acolyte. Perhaps it’s a practiced phrase.
“We haven’t been properly introduced.” I hold out my hand. “I’m Rosalina.”
Wrenley looks down at my outstretched palm before delicately shaking it. “You helped with the goblins.”
“As much as I could. I’m glad you’re all right.”
She picks at one of the flowers on her dress. “The Summer Prince’s appearance was truly fate.”
Fate? “Yes. Your necklace is beautiful. Dayton told me your father collected the shells for it.”
Her blue eyes widen. Such a bright color, distinct and familiar at the same time. “My father,” she murmurs. “Yes, he had a market stall selling trinkets in Hadria. It’s where my mother met him. Convinced him to move to Spring, but he brought a handful of shells to always remember Summer. That’s what my necklace is made of.”
There’s a hitch of pain in her voice, the same hitch of pain that catches in mine when someone asks me about my mother. “My father is an archeologist,” I explain, “so he had trinkets from all over the world.”