“May I have my face back?” he asked.
I hadn’t realized I was still cupping his chin. I jerked away, scrubbing my hand down my skirts. My skin buzzed as though I’d run my hands through a field of nettles.
Midir. Midir. Midir.
The blue book on the side table. The one about faeries. I’d definitely read something in it about Midir. I flipped through the worn pages until I found the story. Midir had been the ruler of the faeries and otherworldly creatures that plagued this island.Bloody hell. Rían wasn’t just fae.
Rían was a faeprince.
Pity the girl from Graystones who loved a heartless prince . . .
Impossible.
“Now, back to that wish,” he drawled, long fingers tracing the scrolling pattern on the settee.
I had tried coming up with a wish but to no avail. Where did one start? Should I wish for something to not only benefit me but my sister as well? Or could I be selfish and wish for something for myself this once? “I haven’t decided on one yet.”
His fingers stilled. “I’ve given you a week.”
I gestured to the bouquets of flowers surrounding me on all sides. “I’ve been a little busy.”
Rían rolled his eyes toward the chandelier. “Don’t tell me you’re actually considering marrying any of the pillocks who’ve called. The last man practically pissed himself when he kissed your hand goodbye.” With a flick of his wrist, he was no longer the ambassador but Sir Henry Withel, down to the man’s hooked nose and deep-set eyes. “Now, I’m not a woman,” he said in Sir Henry’s nasally voice, “but I’m fairly certain that is not an attractive quality in a husband.”
How did hedothat? Could he be anyone he pleased? A terrifying thought.
“At least none of them threatened me with a knife.” Although at the moment, the prospect of choosing one of them seemed almost as devastating.
He flicked his wrist again and was back to being the curly-haired ambassador. “It was just a little knife.” He snagged another cake, a small chocolate one topped with cherries. “And I only showed it to you because you were being contrary.”
Little knife, my foot. “So it’s my fault you threatened to slit my throat, is it?”
“Did I threaten you?” Powdered sugar dusted his lower lip when he bit into the cake. “I distinctly remember asking if you could imagine what it would do to your throat, not saying I had any plans to do it.”
“It was implied.” I wet my own dry lips. Rían’s lips didn’t look dry. They looked soft and supple and would probably taste like chocolate and cherries.
“Implications don’t hold up in court, my dear.” He grabbed a serviette from the table to clean the sugar and crumbs from his hands. “If you want to kiss me again, all you have to do is ask.”
“I’d rather see your dagger.”
He snorted. “That could be arranged.”
Fairly certain he wouldn’t stab me in my own parlor, I slid next to him, bracing my hands on his shoulders as I rose to my knees. Panic flashed in his eyes when I leaned forward until our breaths mingled.
“Rían?”
Hearing his breathing catch did strange things to my stomach.“Yes, Aveen?”
I secretly loved the way he said my name, with the slightest lilt that made my heart stop.
I brushed his soft curls from his ear. “Get out of my house.”
He caught the back of my neck with one hand, holding me steady as he grazed a featherlight kiss against my racing pulse. “I’ll be back.”
He vanished. I fell facefirst onto the cushion.
“What are you doing?” Keelynn said from the doorway.
How long had she been standing there? Had she seen Rían?