“What realm did you say you grew up in again, Lady Rosalina?”
Right. My childhood must be very different from hers. Wrenley looks about my age, but with fae, you can never really tell.
“Is Ez’s lavender wine strong enough for me to see double?” Dayton waltzes up, holding two goblets. “Or are there truly two fae beauties standing before me?”
He’s dripping in charisma and charm, the same way he was when I first met him. He hands us both a drink. A part of me is thankful for the interruption in my awkward conversation. Another part of me feels sick to my stomach.
“Are you enjoying the party, Wrenley?” he asks.
She turns her full attention to him, voice breathy and soft. “Oh yes, it’s wonderful. Prince Kairyn was very kind in giving us the night off. Rosalina was telling me of her childhood.”
“Right,” I say. “You said you grew up in Spring?”
“Yes,” Wrenley replies. “But we spent much time in Summer. I particularly enjoyed my trips to the Byzantar Isles.”
Dayton smiles, a genuine one, remembering his home, and launches into a tale of the place. I take the opportunity to make an exit and let the conversation continue between them.
Every part of me aches to look back at Dayton, to see if he’s watching me. But I don’t turn around.
I need to let the Summer Prince go.
44
Rosalina
Looking around, I search the grounds for Farron. Last time he disappeared at a party, he ended up destroying an entire library of priceless literature. Though I’m not surprised he hasn’t returned yet; he’d seemed fascinated with the plants around the clearing, and I don’t doubt he’s wandering around with an armful of samples.
I catch sight of someone else, though. Marigold twirls under Eldy’s arm, her face completely lit up. Their love deserves a second chance.
I take a moment to glance up through the treetops to the starlit sky. Are you looking at the same stars as me, Kel? Our bond brought us together earlier. Surely, there will come a day when our separation—be it physical miles or emotional—will be a thing of the past.
The party continues before me like something out of a Midsummer Night’s Dream. Unlike the wild celebration that occurred in the Below or the formal ball in Winter, this event seems more casual, like a gathering. Some fae are downright subdued. I wonder what Ezryn thinks of all this. I hadn’t wanted to leave him earlier, but I also didn’t want to stay on his arm all night; I’m only holding him back.
“Lady O’Connell, you look ravishing.”
Kairyn stands beside me, nearly blending in with the dark shadow of the tree. My heart thumps against my chest, and I startle.
“Prince Kairyn! You scared me.”
“Apologies. I merely wanted to compliment the Lady of Castletree on her beauty.” He takes my hand and bows, lowering the cold edge of his helm to my knuckles. “Though I doubt she wants for praise. You seem to be followed by one prince or another wherever you go.”
I give an awkward laugh. “Are you enjoying the party?”
“More so now that I’ve come across you.” His voice is deep, yet I can’t help but feel that he lacks the confidence of the High Princes. Like he’d rather be anywhere than socializing. “I was hoping you would indulge me in a dance.”
My ears prick as a haunting melody seems to grow louder, drifting across the breeze. “Of course, I would be honored.”
He nods stiffly, as if he didn’t expect me to say yes. Then holds out a hand. I take it, seeing how small my own is against the black expanse of his leather glove.
In a whoosh, he pulls me into the soft grass being used as a dancefloor. My bare feet find purchase, and with my hand in his, the other on his shoulder, I realize just how short I am in comparison. I’m not used to feeling short—at least when I’m not around the four princes of Castletree—but Kairyn has me feeling positively miniature.
We move in rhythm to the music—or close enough to a rhythm. Kairyn’s movements are more march than dance. Nothing like my waltz with Caspian last winter, when the very air had seemed to carry us.
“It’s a beautiful necklace you wear,” Kairyn says.
I look down at the moonstone rose. “Thank you. It belonged to my mother.”
“Did it? And how did she come by it, if I may ask? I tend to be … a collector, of sorts.”
The words are on my lips: She found it on an archeological dig. That’s what Papa and I had always believed. But it’s obvious my mother was hiding her true nature all along. Could it have been a gift from the Queen?