Page 129 of Curse the Fae

Lark leans into Cerulean while reexamining the satyr. “You know, I thought I’d hate you less once you proved yourself worthy of Juniper, but I was wrong. I hate you more.”

“Jealous?” Puck taunts with a mischievous grin.

“You know it. But don’t get used to that. I’m the sister. I’ve got dibs.” Lark points at me. “That goes for you, too, missy.”

I blow her a kiss. “You’ll always have me.”

Elixir grunts. “I would not compare the woodland to the inside of a sandwich. It is degrading.”

“Ah, but that’s where the meat is,” Puck replies. “That’s where you find the good stuff, and it’s the midpoint, which is why I nominate my turf as the new meeting point. I’m tired of risking a nosebleed in The Fauna Tower, and there’s no way in hell I’m wearing these leathers down in your muggy snake pit.”

“So, take ’em off.” Lark quirks a brow. “I dare you.”

Puck swings his gaze her way. “Luv, you don’t want to get into a stripping contest with me. You’ll lose.”

“Reckon I won’t, but I’ve had enough games to last me a lifetime.”

“For Cerulean’s sake, I hope you mean outside of bed.”

Lark’s mate sniggers while I interject, “What about allies?”

“We have a few,” Lark says. “A cantankerous moth, a jumbo centaur, and a handful of other accomplices, plus a menagerie of fauna.”

“What about Foxglove?” Juniper adds, then notices her lover’s sudden, deadly glare. “Give her a chance, Puck.”

“For you, and only for you,” he concedes, all traces of mischief gone from his expression. “But it’s really Cypress who needs to give the nymph a chance. He’s the one that bitch shot.”

“Is Cypress a forgiving soul?” I ask.

“Guess we’ll see,” Puck answers.

After that, there’s not much else to discuss without fainting from exhaustion and hunger. Elixir designates the nearest safe landscapes and vacant chambers for everyone to claim, most of them close to The Drift of Swans and The Mer Cascades.

Before disbanding, Elixir squints toward Juniper, his pensive gaze straying over her. Thankfully, neither she nor Puck notice. When Elixir catches me watching him in confusion, he clears his throat. “For the eternal wild.”

The saying is a balm to my soul. We repeat the farewell to one another, then split apart. As we do, my sisters corral me to the sidelines flanked by bulrushes.

“What—,” I begin.

“We know that look,” Lark interrupts, planting her fists on her curvy hips. “Don’t do it, Cove.”

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t give him up,” Juniper clarifies in her smoky voice. “Your love broke that spell. And the way you two looked at each other during the flood? It was like…”

“Like you wanted to rip each other’s clothes off and swear eternal devotion,” Lark says flatly. “That is, if Elixirhadbeen wearing clothes at the time. Anyway, you’ve barely spoken since then, despite all the fuck-me looks you’ve been tossing each other.”

“We have not—”

“Yes,” Juniper states. “You have. And for once in my life, I insist you disregard practicality. If you’re in love, be in love. Period.”

A lump forms in my throat. “It’s not that simple.”

They know why. Lark and Cerulean are mated, and Juniper has a chunk of Puck’s immortality, but the curse prevents Elixir and me from having any such fortune. Eventually, our ages will show, and he’ll outlive me.

Besides, if Lark and Juniper stay here, someone needs to be with Papa. I won’t leave him alone.

“Hon.” Lark tucks a strand of teal behind my ear. “Papa would want you to be happy. And you can visit him with us whenever you want. As for the rest, who gives a shit? Reckon there are no guarantees in either world. Might as well grab your sexy Fae—the bloke’s got one hell of a naked body, by the way—and keep ’im for as long as you can.”

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