Page 49 of Fairies Never Fall

“Maybe a bit.” I worry my lower lip.

Ezra tugs it free, smoothing the skin with his thumb. My lip tingles. “I noticed. You’re distracted.” His thumb drifts down my jaw and I have to force myself to pay attention.

“I’m nervous about it,” I admit, the confession falling out of me.

“You’ll do amazing.” His lips quirk with an easy smile. “I might not be one of you, but I can see how much everyone cares about you — and admires you.”

“I don’t know about that,” I mumble. Admires me? Impossible.

“Do you want me to pledge?” His voice comes out soft.

I freeze. My whole body goes hot, then cold. Ezra, pledging to me? Promising his loyalty? Desire seizes me with startling strength. I open my mouth, but nothing comes out.

Ezra grabs my hands. “Hey, breathe. You can tell me no. It was just something Plato said.”

“Yes,” I blurt. “Yes, I want that.”

Ezra’s eyes crinkle. “Okay then. I’ll be there.”

He leans in, and my desire turns towant, choking me til I’m breathless. His broad chest presses me into the wall and his lips find mine.

Oh yeah. Kissing.Why don’t we do this every day? Every moment of every day, even. His mouth is firm but gentle, stirring my body. His big, warm hand cups my jaw and I feel safe. His eyes are shut and his dark eyelashes flutter so close to my face it makes my pulse pound. The pressure is gone as quickly as it came.

“See you later, Lysander.” His mouth quirks.

I stare after him, heart hammering.

I fiddle with the collar of my robe, feeling ridiculous. The outer robe covers me all the way from my neck to the ground, with slits for my wings to poke out. It’s an impeccable summer-sky blue — it doesn’t escape me that it’s the same blue my skin turns when I’m embarrassed. Or aroused. The metaphor is painfully transparent.

Under the robe are a pair of thin pants that cling to my legs. The velvet is so soft that the feel of it under my palm gives me goosebumps.

“It’s not too much?” I ask Syril, stepping out of the room.

They shake their head. “You look lovely, darling.”

Syril wears an elegant, floor-length black silk gown with a neckline that plunges to a crisp point over their perfectly smooth chest. White silk flowers burst in sprays from the center of the dress and wind around their ribs, and gold filigree ripples down the tight black sleeves. They look every inch a shadowfey, but the crown of blossoms rising above their dark hair is unmistakably wildling.

“Come.” They hold up an arm wreathed in protective shadow and I let my fingers rest on it carefully. The touch of their shadow is distant, like being caressed by water.

Even protected they can’t hold contact for long, so in the hallway we separate. At the end of the hall we turn right onto a balcony that overlooks the main hall of the chalet. A roar of voices rises up to meet me.

Gathered below are more monsters than I’ve seen in my lifetime combined. Suddenly I’m sick with nerves. It feels like every monster in the city and then some have gathered for the Greening. Though I’m covered from the neck down in ashapeless garment, when hundreds of eyes turn upward, I feel more exposed than I ever was in a sheer bodysuit on-stage at The Sanctum.

Maybe I can’t do this after all.

“This way,” Syril murmurs, sparing no time for my crisis.

Trapped, I follow. Then, as we cross the floor, monsters parting to keep their distance from my toxic skin, I see fauns, harpies… even a scattering of naga, all watching us pass with wide eyes. The King’s Oath isn’t about me — it’s about my people, who’ve been without a king for so many years. Whose families have suffered because of the azeroths, just like mine has.

I clench my fists into the fine satin robe and lift my head, my blood calming.

Syril leads me to the far end of the hall, where a curtain hides another, smaller room. As soon as we pass through the first set of curtain silence descends, and I shamefully sigh in relief.

“You thought I would make you sit in the main hall.” Syril is amused.

“Well —” I wince, but they wave it off.

“Breathe easy. I know how wildlings are — I’m practically one myself.” Their eyes gleam.

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