Bloomin’ hell is right.
“He is…” Her words drift away.
He is everything I’ve ever wanted in a mate. “I told you, didn’t I?”
I didn’t think it possible to care for Ever more than I already did, but I was wrong.
So bloody wrong.
Most of the guests have abandoned the square, including the musicians. Those who remain no longer dance or laugh but sit hunched over their drinks or desserts, watching the Unseelie fill their jugs through narrowed eyes.
Ronan seethes from a bench near the fountain. Ivee joins him, but he never seems to look away from the Unseelie. When the jugs have all been loaded back into the carts, they don’t leave straightaway. Instead, they sink onto the edge of the well and the carts and stare right back.
I mill around somewhere in the middle, next to my aunt’s booth, still laden with pies. You could cut the tension in the air with a bread knife. Is this how Beltane is to end? With a bloomin’ staring contest? “This is ridiculous.”
I’m not going to stand here and let these ignorant people make our guests feel unwelcome. Enough is enough.
Giving an unmarried, Unseelie food is akin to courting him…
I grab a pie and fork, bringing them over to where Ever sits, one foot braced on the edge of the well’s low wall and his elbow resting atop his knee.
“Here.” I hold out the pie and watch his slashing brows lift toward the dark hair sweeping across his furrowed brow.
Behind me, a vicious curse echoes through the square. Ronan launches to his feet, his face contorted in fury and his hands bunched into fists.
It’s a good thing I don’t care. Let him see what it’s like to have someone ignore his requests.
Ever blinks down at the pie, then back up at me. “Did you not hear your cousin?”
“I did.” This time, I understand exactly what it means to offer him this gift.
He accepts the pie and the fork, holding my gaze as he takes a bite. The muscles in his sharp jaw flex in the most enticing way as he chews, and when he swallows, the bob of his throat makes my knees weak.
Behind him, Maddox sniggers. “Tell Nia Quill that I prefer blueberry,” he says with a flash of those sharpened teeth.
“My least favorite fruit,” Nia shoots back from a few paces behind me.
Gryffin glances up at the clock tower above the library, his scowl deepening. “It is nearly midnight.”
Meaning Wednesday is almost over.
The Unseelie seem to rise in unison—everyone except Ever. He clutches his pie plate against his chest, as if anyone who tries to pry it off him would lose their arm. Only when the plate is empty does he set it aside. When he stands, he moves with purpose, and I wait with bated breath as he reaches into his saddle bag and withdraws four silver flowers.
“Why are there so many?”
His lips twitch. “One for every day I was gone.”
My heart skips around in my chest, beating with the knowledge of exactly what this means.
I have made him an offer of courtship; one he has just accepted.
When I take the flowers from him, his gaze drops to my lips, and I know in my pounding heart that he isn’t going to kiss me in front of all these people, but oh, how I want him to.
“Come to the bridge tomorrow night?” he whispers.
All I can do is nod and watch as he mounts his horse and leads the group of Unseelie into the darkness.
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