Page 7 of Fairies Never Fall

“Yep.” He doesn’t clarify. “It’s strong, so just a finger.”

He picks up a coaster, but I’m faster. “I got it.”

I don’t know why, but I want to be the one to hand it over.

Orion shrugs. “If you’re sure.”

I take the drink back down the bar to where Lysander is waiting. His brilliant blue eyes stay cool as I approach. The urge rises in me to shake up that expression.

“Here you go.” I slide the drink over, leaving my hand on the glass a split second longer than I need to. Maybe I want to prove that touching a pleb won’t sully him. Or maybe it’s just that he’s undeniably gorgeous, and I’m curious if his hands are as soft as his eyes are guarded.

His hand brushes mine, and yep. Soft as silk.

His mouth falls open. Something flashes in his eyes — uncertainty, or… fear? He snatches the drink up and flees in a rush of floral cologne, disappearing between the tables.

“What the hell?” I mutter.

When the waitress calls in a second order for the same sugary drink, I grab the maraschino cherries before Orion can. I’m not gonna let a guy like that rattle me. Kill ‘em with kindness, as my mom used to say.

4

LYSANDER

The human touched me.

I clutch my drink. No one touches me. A fairy’s skin is poison, and touching it without a barrier means a quick death for almost any monster. If it had been anyone else, my magic would’ve worked its way to his heart and the beating muscle would stop from the shock of it.

But no. As a human, he’s immune.

Slowly, my fingers unclench. Human or not, I was careless — seeing him again shocked me so badly. Why is a humanhere, of all places?

Why this human?

I’m still not used to a world where anyone would willingly come close enough to touch me, whether by accident or otherwise. My mother wasn’t affectionate like that, and Elsabeth took after her. Our staff were trained for their own safety. For the most part the monsters of Greenriver give me space, but here in Syril’s club they’re packed cheek by jowl, and when I cross the floor I have to pay close attention so I don’t accidentally brush a hand, a feather, a stray tail.

The human’s dark head moves around the bar. There’s no amulet around his neck, so he must see us as just like him. Heleans over the counter to chat with a gargoyle, the metal in his face glinting. He flashes a broad, white smile at the customer and starts mixing another drink. My heartbeat picks up. He’s so animated, soalive.

When the gargoyle leaves, he looks across the floor, our eyes meeting. His fierce stare pins me in place.

When his attention is drawn back to the bar, I breathe out, suddenly remembering what Elsabeth used to tell me.Don’t get too close to them — they’re dangerous.

This human doesn’tseemdangerous, but my pulse rattles when he looks at me.

I sink back into the booth and take a long drink, letting the riigan wine settle my nerves. I hate how everything makes me afraid. Before the azeroths found us, I took the feeling of safety for granted. I thought nothing of the comforting thunk of the pipes in our home, the shadows outside the windows, the clatter of kitchen staff downstairs. Now I sleep with the light on and can barely leave my room.

“Prince Lysander?” Orion’s voice startles me. The club is busier all of a sudden — I must have lost track of myself. I should escape upstairs. He sets a plate down, giving me a wry smile. Even the sparks leaping from his eyes seem sympathetic. How embarrassing. “Best eat and get back to your room. It’s only gonna get more packed.”

I keep my hands under the table. “Thank you.”

“You’ll be alright?”

“I’ll go up as soon as I’m done.”

Orion puts another drink in front of me and whisks the old one away. He disappears into the growing crowd. Lifting the glass to my nose, I guiltily breathe in.

It smells like him. The human.

My lips press to the cool glass, the sugar dissolving under my tongue. Did he touch here? Can I feel his phantom fingertips?

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