His response was barely more than a whisper as he stared reverently at the painting. “When I found out one of us was to marry a fae, I went searching for anything and everything I could find on your people. There were very few books left from when the fae occupied this island, most of the records having been destroyed along with the histories of magic. I found this in a dusty old attic.” The barest hint of a smile crossed his lips. “This was how I imagined you. The wings. The ears. The hair. All of it.”
I hadn’t thought of what it would’ve been like for him to meet us for the first time. He must’ve been as nervous as me—perhaps more so since we had magic on our side.
“Were you disappointed when you realized I didn’t have wings?” Although faeries and fae weren’t the same, people often confused the two. There were still clans of winged faeries around Iodale and Airren, but they were becoming more rare with each passing decade.
His startled chuckle warmed me to my toes. “No, Roisin. I was not disappointed.” Sighing, he started back toward the main entrance. When we reached the sofa, he paused, as if trying to decide if he should stay or go. It surprised me how much I wanted him to stay.
“I need to apologize for last night.” I still couldn’t believe I’d had the gall to speak to him so terribly. “I was horrible and I’m sorry.”
“You have been horrible to me for years.” Wincing, he flexed his gloved hands. “Why are you bothering to apologize now?”
Flickers of embarrassment burned my cheeks. I may have been horrible to him, but he had been horrible to me as well, and he had never once apologized. “Never mind. I take it back. I’m not sorry anymore.”
He caught my wrist before I could run for the door. “Don’t go. Please. I didn’t mean it like that.” He let me go just as quickly, scrubbing a gloved hand down his black breeches, a faint blush creeping along his jaw. “I just . . . I don’t understand what differentiates the way you treated me last night from the way you’ve been treating me for the past four years.”
Leaving wouldn’t solve anything. So I sank onto the sofa and spread my hideous green skirt to hide the fact that I hadn’t bothered with shoes. “You are my husband now.” Whether we liked it or not, we were stuck together. “I am trying. All I ask is that you do the same.”
I expected him to tell me off. To call me names and tell me what I could do with my apology.
He simply nodded and said, “All right.”
Something akin to hope swelled in my broken heart. “That’s it? All right?”
He tugged on the ends of his gloves, sinking onto the cushion next to me. “I would like to try as well.”
When he stretched his hand again and winced, I remembered Lowri’s story and the way he’d cut his palm before he left me. If the pain tightening his mouth was any indication, it must be frightfully sore. “Show me your hand.”
He shoved both hands behind his back like a child caught with stolen sweets. “No.” His brow furrowed. “Why?”
“I heard you got into a fight.”
His gaze flicked to mine, dark eyes searching. “He deserved it.”
“I have no doubt.” Although I considered Lord Kerrington a friend, he was not without his faults. I held my hand toward Caiman. “Let me fix it. It’s the least I can do.”
The way his nose wrinkled and eyes narrowed—he looked genuinely horrified. “I don’t want you to fix it.”
She is a monster.
An abomination.
“Does my magic disgust you so much that you’d rather be in pain than let me touch you?”
A wrinkle formed between his eyebrows. “Why on earth would you think that?”
“It doesn’t matter.” This was a lost cause. We were a lost cause.
“Dammit.” He ripped off his glove and held his bandaged hand toward me. “Here.”
I’d been prepared for the bandages, blood, and bruised knuckles. What I hadn’t expected were the vicious scars dimpling the back of his hand, stretching across his forearms, and disappearing beneath his shirtsleeve.
My heart sank as I took his hand in mine, tracing the deep pits and grooves and gnarled bumps of poorly healed skin. “What happened?” These scars hadn’t been there when I had grabbed his hands and walked with him through the gardens years ago.
“I almost beat Alrec in a race . . . until he . . . he pushed me into a bonfire.”
My breath caught. The Alrec I knew never would’ve hurt someone like that.
The man you loved was a fallacy.