Page 33 of Destined for the Fae King

Lysandir clears his throat. “I don’t think I saw red in your notebook. Or orange for that matter. Averse to the court colors?”

Changing the topic…right.But if it will erase the weird feeling moments ago, I’m for it, so I roll with it.

“There was plenty of gold,” I say. “I love the way it shimmers. But you’re right about the red. In the human world, red is typically used to point out errors or mistakes. I’ve always found it a little jarring to use when taking notes.”

“Ah, most unfortunate for our court to be the color of error.”

I shrug. “Or maybe humans are the weird ones using red that way.”

He hums in agreement, casting a glance down my form them back up again before straightening in his seat and turning back toward the table. “Now, where were we?”

Ah, yes, because we were discussing the Unseelie. Probably a more useful topic than my choice of pen colors.

Lysandir leans forward, his long hair sweeping over one shoulder, the crimson strands catching the light and almost glowing the color of red wine. It’s apparent that he’s at ease here, comfortable in a way he was not in the council chamber, where he sat straight and still for most of the session. Not that I was staring at him of course, but he was hard to miss since he was squarely in my line of sight.

On the topic of sight…

“When you see the future,” I ask, “can you pick what you see?”

Asking the question flipped a switch, changing him from calm and relaxed to stiff and serious all in a breath. “It’s not quite that easy. Some visions come to be on their own, unbidden. Other times, I can meditate on a question and seek wisdom from themagic that flows through all of Faery, but I do not always get an answer. Even when I do, it’s often vague at best, a momentary vision or even just a feeling. That can be helpful in some things, but when it comes to complex questions like our enemy’s plan, I have been able to glean little.”

“Ah, sorry to pry. I just thought maybe that would be more helpful than a book, but I suppose if it was, you’d have done it already.”

The tension eases out of him, and his lips quirk up in a half grin. “Smart girl. Histories don’t give exact answers either, but they do let us know what’s happened before and can give us hints toward the future that can often help more than any vision.”

The way he says it, the pride that resonates in his voice, isn’t just that of someone repeating a saying. It means something to him—history, books, all of it.

“You enjoy studying the past,” I surmise.

“I do. I enjoy learning quite a bit. Most of the time, I end up doing it alone, but it’s nice, having someone to discuss things with who is actually interested in them.” He gestures to the book and my notebook, to us.

“Your brother isn’t interested?”

“Does my brother seem like the studious type to you?” He arcs a brow at me.

No, I can’t see Vasilius spending his time in libraries. Or reading at all really. The idea of Vasilius curled up with a book just doesn’t work. “He’s mentioned he likes more active pursuits like dueling and hunting.”

Lysandir nods. “Exactly. He can appreciate books when they serve his purpose, but generally, if something needs to be researched, it’s left to me or a member of his council.”

“There’s no one else you can study with? Close friends or lovers?”

My gosh, I did not just say that aloud. Lovers?I could smack myself in the forehead. What business of mine is it who he spends time with? None at all. But the question just slipped out, and there’s no taking it back.

“No current lovers.” He draws out the response, humor dancing in his eyes and his head tilted to the side in question, letting his hair slide around his pointed ear.

Of course he’d choose to respond to that part first. I could sink through the floor right here and now.

He glances away. “I gave my heart to someone long ago, and she has yet to return my feelings.”

“Oh.” It’s a pitiful reply, but from the way his voice drew quiet at the end and he wouldn’t quite look at me, it’s clear he doesn’t want to talk about it. Though it would be interesting to know who claimed such a man’s heart and why she doesn’t return his affection, especially given that he’s a prince and quite pleasant to look at.

“As for friends…” He shrugs, glancing back my way. “I have a few who are close, but it’s not something that comes easily for me, not when I know that many would try to become my friend simply for the privileges it offers.”

My traitor heart aches for him. “You think they’d befriend you just because you’re a prince?”

The smile he gives me doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “I know they would. Still, I have managed to find some. Unfortunately, they don’t share my love of books.” When I don’t immediately reply, Lysandir asks, “So, what do you like to do, Mira? When you’re not writing colorful notes?”

He shifts in his chair, his leg brushing mine, and I nearly jump out of my skin. My heart kicks up its rhythm, and my ribs feel like they’re both expanding and crushing in toward my spine at once.

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