For a moment, I consider letting Leah back into my bed; consider getting lost in her for the night. But then morning would come, and I still would not have an answer for her.
We would be right back where we are now, except maybe it would be a little worse, because, for those few hours, I know she would be dreaming of our mating ceremony.
So instead of giving in, I tell her, “Not tonight,” and leave her to her rage.
* * *
Every time I close my eyes, I am haunted by visions of a woman with hair the color of a lilac bloom and eyes the shade of clover. There is no sense wasting away abed when sleep alludes me, so I dress and head back to the forest, hoping something emerges that I can kill.
Foolish on my own? Undoubtedly.
But it is a risk I am willing to take.
Our first hunt cannot come soon enough.
We will be gone most of the summer, returning in the fall with enough to feed our people through the harsh winters that only seem to affect this side of the canyon.
Instead of taking the path pitted with footprints leading north, I follow the southern trail that curves deeper into the heart of the woods. The trees creak and groan and moss swallows the base of every trunk, silencing my footfalls.
With my dagger in my grip, I venture farther than I normally would, down to where the river meets the silty bank. A few years ago, I would not have been brave enough to go this far without the others, but tonight I feel reckless.
Restless.
Haunted.
Across the lazy water, silver strips of moonlight fall upon a glen. I am about to turn away when something small and iridescent catches my eye. If I did not know any better, I would say it was a flower, but flowers do not bloom in our forest.
Flowers need sunlight to survive, and this land of shadows has too little. My father used to say the Seelie stole it from us, but he was as bitter as he was cross, so I imagine he was full of shite.
The icy water barely registers as I step into the river, crossing the slippery stones carefully until I reach the far shore.
Not only are they flowers, but also, they are as silver as the buckle on my belt.
The urge to kill fades as I kneel to pluck one by the stem, carrying it back with me to camp.
I should probably give the bloom to Leah as an apology for making her wait so long for an answer. But that would be an answer in and of itself.
For once a meal is offered, the male accepts with a gift of his own.
Maybe Leah is right in demanding our union. She is a strong female, the fiercest in our clan. Maybe I should give her what she wants. It is not as if anyone else will be lining up to mate with me after she stabbed Robyn. I have a duty to our people, to the Unseelie, to bring offspring into this cruel world, lest our line be eradicated.
The longer I stare at the flower, the more my chest aches.
Leah would not appreciate the gesture, only the outcome.
Would Kerris think this flower is beautiful?
Probably not considering it is as devoid of color as everything else this side of the bridge.
What if she understood?
Maddox’s teasing comment from earlier drifts through my mind.
What if Kerrisdidgive me that box for a reason? It seems impossible, but still, I wonder…
* * *
Before my destination registers, I am already mounted on Nyx and riding along the trail of bones toward the bridge where River and Rynan have taken first watch.